Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 39414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
I let my gaze travel down her body slowly—hoodie, leggings, the curve of her hips, the way she’s breathing like she’s trying not to breathe.
Then I bring my eyes back to hers. “You answered a bride ad, Ellie.”
Her face burns hotter. “I answered an ad for a place to stay.”
“You didn’t call it that on the phone.”
Her lips part, then close. She exhales, frustrated. “I was desperate.”
The word hangs there, raw.
It makes something ugly tighten in my chest. Not because she’s weak—Ellie’s never been weak. Because I hate that someone put her in a position where she had to come to me like this with a backpack and a shaky hand.
I keep my voice steady. “And now you’re here.”
She lifts her chin. “And now I’m here.”
Good. There’s that spine.
I step back and gesture around. “Kitchen’s yours. Fridge is stocked. You want coffee, it’s in the tin by the stove. Don’t go past the treeline behind the cabin. If you hear anything outside at night, you wake me up.”
She squints at me. “You think something’s out there.”
I hold her gaze. “I know there’s something out there.”
Her mouth tightens. “So what, you’re just… what? Armed and ready and—”
“And capable,” I finish.
She huffs. “Of course you are.”
“You want to ask why I posted the ad again?” I say, watching her. “Or you want to ask the real question?”
Her brows knit. “What real question?”
I take a step toward her, slow, deliberate, the way I move when I’m trying not to spook a scared animal.
“Why you came to me,” I say.
Her throat bobs.
“I didn’t come to you,” she snaps, but her voice isn’t sharp enough to cut. “I came to… an address.”
“Mm-hm.” I nod once. “And the address turned out to be mine.”
“Yeah.” She squeezes the backpack strap like it’s a lifeline. “Lucky me.”
I let a beat pass. “Why didn’t you call Wade?”
Her eyes flicker, just for a second. Then her mouth sets. “Because my brother would try to fix it. And I don’t need fixing.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“I know what you said.”
“Then answer it.”
She stares at me, shoulders tense, stubbornness and fear doing a slow dance behind her eyes. “I’m having… difficulties,” she says finally, tight and clipped like she’s throwing me a bone she resents.
I nod like that’s enough. “Okay.”
Her gaze snaps up. “That’s it? No interrogation?”
“You tell me what you want to tell me,” I say. “When you’re ready.”
Her eyes narrow. “Why are you being… reasonable?”
I let my mouth tilt. “Don’t get used to it.”
She gives a short laugh that sounds more like relief than she wants it to. “God. This is so weird.”
“It is,” I agree.
She looks around again, like she’s trying to find her footing in my space. Her gaze lands on the table, where the printed copy of the listing sits folded beside my keys.
She points at it. “So you really wanted… a mail-order bride.”
I watch her finger hover over the paper like touching it might burn her.
“I wanted a wife on paper,” I say. “Discretion. Cover. Someone who can follow rules and make this place feel more…homey.”
“And you thought… strangers were a good idea?” she challenges.
“I thought the right person would show up.”
Her eyes flash. “So you were waiting for me?”
The question hangs between us, half accusation, half something softer she doesn’t know how to hold.
I take one step closer until I can see the pulse in her throat. “I didn’t know it would be you.”
“But it is.”
“But it is,” I echo, and my voice is rougher now.
Ellie’s breath catches. She tries to hold my gaze and fails for a second—her eyes sliding down to my chest, the way my shirt pulls over muscle, then snapping back up like she’s mad at herself.
“You’re staring,” I say.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Her cheeks flush deeper. “Stop talking.”
I lean in just enough that she has to tilt her head back. Not touching. Just close. Close enough to make her aware of my heat, my size, the fact that she is alone in a cabin with me and her body knows exactly what kind of danger that is.
“I’m going to talk,” I tell her, calm and unfiltered. “You’re going to listen.”
Her lips part again. She swallows. “Wyatt…”
“Yeah?” I murmur.
She holds herself still like she’s trying not to shake. “This doesn’t mean you get to… claim me.”
My mouth twitches. “Claim you.”
“Yes.”
I let a slow breath out. “Sweetheart, you walked into my cabin off a bride ad. I’m not claiming you.”
Her eyes widen slightly.
“I’m protecting you,” I correct. “There’s a difference.”
She licks her lips, and I track the movement like a starving man.
“And if I don’t want your protection?” she whispers, defiant, even as her voice trembles.
I smile, but it isn’t kind.
“Then you wouldn’t be here.”
Ellie’s breath stutters. She hates that I’m right.
I take a step back before I do something reckless, before my hands forget every promise I’ve ever made to Wade, before my mouth finds her throat and I lose my mind.