Wifed By The Mountain Man: A Modern Mail-Order Bride Romance Read Online Free PDF

I graduated college.
    I try to breathe, to stop blinking so manically. To hear what Reed is saying. I see his mouth open and close, but of course I can’t hear a single word because his child is screaming like a lunatic.
    He turns to the stainless steel double fridge and grabs a baby bottle, shaking it and inserting it in the baby’s mouth. That quiets the room really quickly.
    I walk over to him—across his great room filled with gorgeous skylights and dark hard wood floors—and try to register my complete shock. “What the actual fuck, Reed?”
    “Ever heard of earmuffs, woman?”
    I just look at him, confused, and he points to the baby’s ear.
    “You can’t swear in front of the kid.”
    “Seriously?” I look at him blankly. The filthy-mouthed man I just road-fucked is telling me I can’t cuss in front of an infant.
    I can’t even.
    Reed paces the room, holding the baby effortlessly—and damn . This rugged mountain man holding a baby is making my eggs drop one by one. I swear it’s like some sort of hormone injection, watching him give this baby a bottle. My uterus is literally expanding for our unborn children—and I don’t even want kids.
    Everything about this makes me dizzy. His ripped biceps, and penetrating eyes and … well, I already know what kind of cock he has. Basically, it’s all the things that make a woman baby-crazy. Or just crazy.
    “You want out?” he asks, not looking at me.
    “What? I—No. I just....” I’m sputtering. Because, honestly, I have a hell of a lot of questions that need answers before I can go anywhere. Also, I could use a drink. Something strong. “Do you have any alcohol?”
    He doesn’t think I’m serious. He sucks in all the air from the room as he sets the quickly drained bottle on the granite countertop. He looks pissed, but I’m starting to think that’s just Reed’s version of resting bitch face. He’s grumpy, or grumpier. The only time I saw him really smile was when I was sitting on his lap, naked.
    Maybe he needs more sex. But then again, he has a baby, so he had plenty of that at some point.
    Which reminds me: where is this child’s mother?
    He pats the baby’s back until she burps, then sets her in the swing. He turns the motor on, and it starts swaying back and forth. The swing is soft pink and covered in butterflies—and, yes, they referred to the baby as a she … but I still can’t believe it.
    Reed has a daughter.
    “Does Monique know you have a kid?”
    He sets his mouth in a line—a line that could go either way—and without a word he walks over to a well-stocked bar. I lean against the kitchen island, feeling beyond deceived.
    He grabs two glasses and pours a few inches of something amber in both of them. I watch him intently; his back is to me, and his broad shoulders tug at the seams of his flannel shirt. He’s clearly ripped. In the truck I only saw his cock; now I just want to see him completely naked. All of his skin, with his beard between my legs....
    He turns back to me, not offering me a smile, but handing me the glass. It snaps me back to reality.
    I mean, Hello, Amelia, get a freaking grip . I’m thinking about a round two with him instead of problem numero uno . The baby-sized problem.
    “She knew.”
    I snort. “Awesome. That’s so freaking awesome. I just love being lied to and manipulated into a marriage.” I take a sip of the beverage, scowl. Whiskey, neat—no, thanks. I’m a white wine or sangria sort of girl. I set the drink on the counter.
    Reed takes it and pours my booze into his glass. Classy.
    I roll my eyes as he tosses the whole thing back in one fell swoop.
    “Did you ask?” he says, smoothly, as if that battery acid had no effect on him whatsoever.
    “What? Well, no,” I huff. “I mean, that’s the sort of thing that she should have mentioned.”
    He shrugs. “This arrangement is a package deal.”
    “Where is her mother?” I ask.
    “Dead.”
    “Fuck. You’re a widower? How old is your