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Sam
The sprawling ranchstretches out before me, an endless sea of green pastures and rolling hills under the vast blue Montana sky. My heart races as the pickup truck rumbles up the long dirt driveway, kicking up clouds of dust. This is it—my new home, my new life. As a bride to a man I barely know.
The truck lurches to a stop and the door opens. Colton Westbrook stands on the other side, his tall, broad frame filling the doorway. My breath catches. He's even more rugged and handsome than his photo—all chiseled features, sun-bronzed skin, and piercing blue eyes that seem to see right through me. I feel his gaze rake over my curvy figure as I climb out of the truck, suddenly self-conscious in my yellow sundress.
"You must be Samantha," he says, his deep, gravelly voice sending shivers down my spine. "Welcome to Westbrook Ranch."
"It's Sam," I manage with a shy smile, tucking a stray auburn curl behind my ear. "Thank you. It's beautiful here."
He nods curtly and grabs my suitcase, his arm muscles flexing under his white button-down shirt. I follow him up the porch steps to the sprawling farmhouse, my legs trembling slightly, though from nerves or anticipation I can't tell. The man is built like a mountain—solid, strong, immovable. And he's my husband now. The thought both thrills and terrifies me.
As we step inside, the rich scent of leather and pine envelops me. It feels like home already, cozy and inviting. But the silent tension crackling between Colton and me fills the air with a strange energy.
I glance up and find his blue eyes fixed on me again, swirling with some unreadable emotion. Desire? Regret? I look away quickly, my cheeks flushing hot. What have I gotten myself into? Can I really do this—be a wife to this quiet, intimidating cowboy?
I take a deep breath, willing myself to be brave, to have hope. This is my chance for a new beginning, for love and family and belonging.
I just pray I'm strong enough to grab it.
Colton
"Let me show you around." I tear my gaze away from Samantha's soft curves and lead her through the house, my pulse beating faster than a spooked stallion. Lord Almighty, she's a vision. When she stepped out of that truck in her little yellow dress, mile-long legs stretched out, red curls tumbling down her back, I could barely breathe. I almost regret this whole mail order bride scheme. How am I supposed to focus on the ranch with her around as a distraction?
"The barns are out this way." I guide her out the back door, struggling to keep my eyes ahead as she follows behind me. Her bright green eyes are too damn inviting, drawing me in like quicksand. I have to keep my distance if this is going to work. I have a ranch to save and no time for romance.
"Do you have many horses?" Her musical voice breaks the tense silence as we enter the stables. I nod and point out the stalls.
"'Bout twenty right now. Used to be more, before..." I let my words trail off, unwilling to unpack the grief still looming over this ranch like a dark cloud.
Sam just smiles softly. "They're beautiful. I've always loved horses." She reaches out to stroke a white mare's nose and I'm mesmerized by her gentleness, her natural ease around the animals.
Dragging my eyes away, I clear my throat and head out of the stable. "I'll show you the rest."
We walk along the fences and I point out the different pastures and equipment, hyper aware of her presence beside me, the way the sun illuminates the hints of red in her hair, the sweet floral scent that wafts my way when she turns her head. It's unnerving. I'm used to hard work, sweat and dirt, the simple routines of ranch life. I don't know what the hell to do with a woman like Samantha. Especially one I have to call my wife.
One who’s way too pretty for a thirty-five-year-old man like me. There’s no way I could ever be good enough for her. I don’t know what situation caused her to sign up for a mail-order bride service, but I know she has to be desperate to agree to something like this.
What I can’t figure is how is a pretty thing like this not already married to some young buck? Why did she agree to marry some stranger like me?
I can only pray this marriage of convenience doesn't unravel everything I've been working for. And that I can keep my growing desire for this captivating woman locked down deep, where it can't burn us both to cinders.
Sam
The scrape of forks against plates echoes uncomfortably loud in the stillness of the dining room. I sneak a glance at Colton, his eyes fixed intently on his meal as if the mashed potatoes might reveal the secrets of the universe. The air feels thick, weighted with all the words we're not saying.
I clear my throat. "This is delicious. Did you make it yourself?"
Colton grunts, sparing me the briefest of glances. "Mhm. Not much of a cook but I get by." He shovels another forkful into his mouth.
"Well, I'd be happy to help out in the kitchen. It's the least I can do." I aim for lightness but it falls flat in the oppressive quiet.
His eyes flicker to mine, stormy blue depths unreadable. "You don't need to do that. I didn't bring you here to be my maid."
I flush, stung by his dismissiveness. "I know that. I just...I want to contribute somehow. Earn my keep."
Colton sets down his fork with a sigh. "You're not a burden, Samantha." His voice gentles a fraction. "I wouldn't have agreed to this arrangement if I didn't think it would be mutually beneficial."
"Beneficial. Right." The words feel brittle on my tongue. Is that all I am to him? A business transaction?
