I honestly didn’t know why I did it. Was it the thought of losing the cabin and the land? No. I had enough money to start over wherever I wanted to. Maybe the look in her eyes that said she might need this as much as I did, for whatever reason.
I took her hand. Her fingers were warm, her grip surprisingly firm, and I was aware—too aware—of the softness of her palm against my rougher one. I let go faster than I should have and she noticed that too. “Thank you for agreeing to be my wife.”
She laughed. A soft sound that told me more about her than she probably thought. “Thank you for needing a wife, mountain man. Let me know when I need to be here for the wedding. And... Thorne.” She paused at the door, glancing back. “For what it’s worth, you’re broodier in person than in the profile photo.”
She winked and walked out, her hips swaying in a way that made my teeth ache. She was gone before I could figure out whether I wanted her to stay or leave.
The office felt too quiet without her.
“Well,” Kate said smugly. “That went well.”
“Don’t,” I warned.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“I’m thinking she’s perfect for you.”
“She’s—” I stopped. What was she? Pushy. Direct. Funny in a way that caught me off guard. Completely unimpressed by my silence or my general unwillingness to engage.
“I hate you,” I muttered, but couldn’t stop looking at the door.
“You love me. And you’re welcome.” She handed me the folder I’d refused earlier. “Her full profile. You might want to actually read it.”
I took it, but I didn’t open it. Not yet.
Because something told me that once I did, once I knew more about Maddie Cooper than just her smart mouth and her surprising directness, I was going to do something stupid.
Like actually think this insane plan might just work.
CHAPTER TWO
Maddie
I was late for my own wedding.
Not fashionably late. Not a grand entrance late. Actually, genuinely, stuck-in-traffic-because-I-took-a-wrong-turn late.
My phone had died twenty minutes ago, right after it had sent me down what turned out to be the wrong highway exit, and now I was speed-walking up the courthouse steps in boots that were definitely giving me blisters, one hand on the railing so I wouldn’t fall flat on my face, and completely out of breath.
This was fine. This was totally fine. Every bride showed up to her wedding looking like she’d just run a marathon, right?
I hit the top step and there he was. Thorne.
Standing outside the courthouse entrance like some kind of brooding statue, wearing dark jeans and a button-down shirt that looked like he’d actually ironed it. He looked unfairly good—like a mountain god carved from granite who just happened to be wearing denim. The man was a wall of muscle.
His eyes locked on me, and I watched something flicker across his face. Surprise, maybe. Or concern that his bride had shown up looking like a disaster.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped, stopping in front of him. “I’m so sorry. I took the wrong exit and then my phone died and I couldn’t call and—” I gestured vaguely at myself. “Is this okay? The dress? Iwasn’t sure what to wear to a courthouse wedding and I figured white was traditional but if it’s too much I can—do you have a flannel shirt I could borrow? Would that be more appropriate? I’m rambling. I’m sorry. I’m just really nervous and—”
“Maddie.” His voice cut through my panic, low and steady. “Breathe.”
I breathed, but it didn’t help. Not when he was looking at me like that. His jaw was tight, but his eyes were doing something that made my stomach flip—a dark possessive heat that made me feel like he was already tasting me.
Now where had that thought spring from?
“The dress is fine,” he said finally.
