Wifed By The Mountain Man: A Modern Mail-Order Bride Romance by Frankie Love Read Free Book Online

and pick up a wailing Hope from her crib. She’s learned to stand, and has started this thing where she just hangs on to the edge and can’t remember how to sit back down.
    With her in my arms, still wailing, I get her a bottle, which she refuses. Then I try a pacifier, which she spits out. The swing pisses her off, the lullabies are a no-go, and the biscuit I offer her gets chucked across the room.
    Precious.
    My eyes burn from exhaustion, and when I realize I’ve been pacing for an hour with a crying baby, I consider getting her in the truck and driving around until she falls asleep.
    “Reed?” Amelia whispers my name, and I turn to see the woman who’s here to be my bride. She’s in a see-through tank top and tiny little shorts that leave nothing to the imagination, and her face … she’s gorgeous even in the dead of the night. Her tousled hair and sleepy eyes look sexy as fuck. “Can I hold her?”
    I noticed earlier that Amelia didn’t once offer or reach for Hope all night. And I understand, I really do. It’s kind of an awkward spot: me watching her, and maybe she thinks I’ll be judging anything or everything she does right or wrong. But I’m not that guy.
    The truth is, maybe I’d be a more judgmental parent if I wasn’t so damn tired of doing this on my own.
    Her hands reach for Hope, and she looks at me for affirmation that it’s okay. I nod, my eyes closing as I stand there, leaning against the wall of the hallway. She pats Hope’s back, whispering soft words that soothe me more than my daughter.
    “Oh, sweet one,” she coos in a singsong voice. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. It’s gonna be okay. Close your eyes, you’re allowed to go to sleep, baby girl. Shhh, you’re allowed to rest.”
    Hope’s crying stops, fades to a whimper. Soon it’s heavy breathing, and I open my eyes, noticing the tight hold Hope has on Amelia’s hair. Her little fist is wrapped tight around a strand, but her eyes are closed, her head resting on Amelia’s shoulder. I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat.
    I’m not some fucking romantic, but the sound of Hope no longer crying is fucking glorious. It also makes me want to thank Amelia in a million different ways.
    She walks to the nursery and lays a now-sleeping Hope back in her crib.
    We tiptoe out, and once the door is closed, I pull Amelia into a hug.
    “That was amazing,” I tell her, then kissing her forehead. “Seriously. That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
    She laughs softly, “Reed, you’ve been alone far too long if a woman putting a baby to sleep is the thing that gets you hard.”
    “Oh, honey,” I tell her, pulling her closer. “Plenty gets me hard.”
    “Show me,” she whispers. “Show me how hard you can get.”

    * * *
    L eading her into my dark bedroom, I feel her body move against mine in the blackness of the night. It’s only dark a few hours a day this time of year in Alaska, and the dark has found us.
    “Let’s not talk about what happens next—with you, with Hope, with me,” I tell Amelia, pulling her into my arms at the foot of the bed. I want to fall into the sheets with her, and I want to disappear, and forget, and pretend for just one night that my life is as simple as it was before Hope showed up.
    I’m so tired.
    “Okay,” she murmurs, her hands running across my chest. Her fingers brush against my skin, waking something that’s bigger than lust and deeper than desire. Her body pressed against mine doesn’t feel like someone is pressing me into a corner. Amelia next to me gives me space to breathe.
    And damn, it’s been three months since I took a deep breath.
    “Let me feel you, Reed. Let me feel you in me.”
    “Oh, fuck, woman,” I exhale, lifting her chin with a finger, pressing my mouth on hers. All the air, the air I just found, escapes my lungs. It’s gone in that kiss, because she fucking takes my breath away.
    Which is a problem. I don’t have space in my life to start having