Chapter 1
Willow
I grew up in a small town outside Chicago and thought going into the city would be my biggest adventure. Boy, was I wrong.
If only my dad could see me now, taking a bus across the country to marry a guy I don’t know in two weeks. That alone would probably kill him if he weren’t already dead.
When my dad lost his battle with cancer, his savings didn’t cover all his medical bills and funeral costs. I paid those expenses by selling our house, which effectively left me homeless. After what happened at the funeral, I needed to get out of town fast.
I stayed in a women's shelter for a week, and my friend Aspen allowed me to crash at her place. Like me, her mother had just passed from cancer, and she was looking for a way to make some money to keep her house.
She ended up selling her virginity in an auction at Club Red. I think about her and wondering how it's going. I decided to look into the mail-order bride website one of the ladies mentioned at the women's shelter.
So, I'm on my way to meet Bennett, my future husband. We’ve talked through email, and I know he lives on a mountain in a small town called Whiskey River in Montana. Apparently, it's not easy to meet girls, and with his friends all married, he decided to take an unconventional approach to find a wife.
I figure a tiny, hard-to-find town on a mountain is the perfect safe place to let my guard down for the first time in months.
After signing the contracts, Bennett sent me enough money to get to Whiskey River, cover my food and costs along the way, and have plenty left over.
I had no idea that mail-order websites still existed outside the Old West novels my dad liked to read. But I guess it's a different type of dating, like the reality TV show where they get married before they even meet.
The photos I have of Bennett will be the only way I'll recognize him once I arrive at the bus stop. With Whiskey River being such a small town, we agreed to meet a few towns over to avoid drawing any attention to ourselves.
When I look into his dark brown eyes in the photos, they appear kind. My dad always said a person's eyes were a window to their soul. But let's be honest, he's not bad-looking. His hair is a bit long, and his muscles tell me he's accustomed to hard work—as I'm sure any mountain man is.
Though I was nervous about living on the mountain, Bennett assured me he didn’t need me for the hard work, and the house would be my domain. I’ll cook, clean, and decorate while he provides for us and our future family.
My nerves kick in as the mountains come into view. Not for the first time, my thoughts race with uncertainty. Is there a way to do this without marrying a stranger? Nothing comes to mind.
I distract myself by reading one of the books I picked up for a quarter at the local library sale before heading out of town.
At last, we reach my bus stop, and I look out the window, trying to spot Bennett. It’s easy to recognize him. He’s taller than most people and sticks out in the crowd. He looks exactly like his pictures as he stands there with his arms crossed, staring at the bus with a blank expression.
Maybe I can stay on the bus to the next town, get a different ticket, and email him an apology in a few days. But my dad taught me always to follow through when you give your word. So I stand, gather my bag, and make my way to the front of the bus.
Bennett can't see into the bus because the windows are tinted, but I can see him, and his eyes are glued to the bus door. I hesitate for a second before stepping out to meet him.
The moment our eyes lock, his expression softens, and his arms drop. He makes his way over to me, offering an awkward smile. "Willow."
It’s not a question, so I simply nod.
"Bags?"
I nod again.
We walk over to where they're unloading bags from the extra storage area on the bus. When I see mine, I reach for it, but he places his hand on mine. He picks up my bag as if it weighs nothing, puts his other hand on the small of my back, and carefully guides me to the parking lot.
Even though he's awkward, I find it adorable, and it helps to settle my nerves. He leads me to a well-used truck covered in dirt, but the inside is clean when he opens the door.
He places my bags in the back before helping me into my seat, closing the door once I'm buckled in. He walks to the driver’s side, giving me a minute to take a deep breath and recenter myself.
"Ready to head home?" he asks once he’s in his seat.
It’s hard to think of a place I've never seen as home.
"Yes. I’ll be happy to get there," I say, summoning a smile.
He puts the truck in gear and navigates onto a small two-lane highway as we head out of town.
"Will you tell me about Whiskey River?" I ask, wanting to know more about where I’ll be living.
"I think you'll like it here. The people are friendly. We have a small downtown area with a few stores, including a bakery and a café. The town has a few events throughout the year, which we can go to if you like. I know it's not Chicago, but I promise we can find you plenty to do here, too," he says, glancing my way.
So basically, it's the typical small town. It’ll take some getting used to, but it's a fair tradeoff if it means not looking over my shoulder constantly.
"If I wanted Chicago, I would have stayed there. Small-town life seems perfect right now, and I can't wait to see Whiskey River." I offer him a smile, and he seems to relax.
Once we get close to Whiskey River, Bennett lets me know, and we drive down Main Street. Right in front of us is a huge mountain you can see when walking down the street. Downtown has a cute mountain town vibe with rustic wood and stonework. Main Street has everything from a thrift store to a little grocery store, a café, a bakery, an outdoor store, the bank, and more. It doesn't take long to drive through before we’re heading toward the mountain.
"Come winter, it'll be harder to get into town. But the upside is we’ll be able to do winter sports if that's something you're interested in," Bennett explains.
"I've always wanted to go sledding, but I've never been."
"Not too far from the house is a great hill perfect for sledding.”
As we continue up to his place, I take in the fantastic views of the mountain and the scenery below. We turn into his driveway, and it's still a long way up to his cabin. When we break through the trees, I gasp in wonder.
His house looks like a resort with a breathtaking vista of the mountains in the background. It reminds me of the upscale rustic ski lodges you see in magazines, with its pretty porch and large windows to take full advantage of the views. On one side of the house is a garden, and on the other are outbuildings and what looks like a large barn.
"This is your house?" I ask in shock.
"Yes. I wanted to take advantage of the view." He seems a little nervous again.
"It's stunning. I was seriously picturing a little cabin in the woods."
When he smiles this time, it's a full, genuine one. My heart skips a beat at how beautiful this man is when he smiles.
He gets out of the truck, grabs my bags, and opens the door for me. Taking a deep breath, I take my first step on the mountain I’ll be calling home.
