Page 16 of The Mountain Man’s Untamed Bride (Mountain Man Sanctuary #4)

“Full Circle”

Scarlett

Early December in the Colorado mountains was no joke.

The first real snowfall had transformed Bodhi's wilderness sanctuary into a scene straight from a storybook winter.

Four months after my dramatic arrival, I was still discovering new things to love about mountain life—like the way snow dampened all sound in the forest, or how morning sunlight turned ordinary frost into diamonds.

I tapped away at my laptop in what used to be the Raccoon Suite, now my office with its view of snow-capped pines.

The satellite internet connection Bodhi had installed after the Langley incident had proven its worth.

After three weeks of remote job hunting, I'd landed a position with Heartland Harvest, a digital marketing agency focusing exclusively on small farms and local food producers.

My current project involved creating an Instagram strategy for a family-owned maple syrup operation in Vermont.

"Boosting engagement by thirty percent," I muttered, reviewing my analytics. "Take that, corporate sugar brands."

The front door opened with a blast of cold air, followed by the familiar sound of Bodhi stomping snow from his boots. He'd been in town helping Mabel reinforce her storage shed before the next snowstorm hit.

"How's the maple campaign?" he asked, appearing in my doorway with a paper bag that smelled like Mabel's cinnamon rolls.

I saved my work and spun to face him. "Converting the masses to artisanal breakfast condiments, one hashtag at a time."

He laughed, the sound still rare enough to make me pause and appreciate it. The semi-feral mountain man who'd greeted me with suspicion four months ago had softened around the edges—not tamed, exactly, but more willing to share his territory.

"Mabel says dinner at Flint and Josie's is still on for tonight," he said, setting the bag on my desk. "Weather's holding until tomorrow."

"Like wild horses could keep Josie from hosting," I replied, reaching for a cinnamon roll. "She's been planning this dinner since we missed their Halloween party."

"Probably announcing another baby," Bodhi suggested, leaning against the doorframe.

"I doubt it. Josie swore after the twins that she was done expanding the Hawthorne empire.

" I took a bite, not bothering with the dainty manners my mother had drilled into me since childhood.

"Besides, she's been asking weird questions about our cabin layout.

I think she's plotting some kind of renovation ambush. "

He watched me with a half-smile. "You have cinnamon on your chin."

"Goes with the powdered sugar on my shirt," I replied, making no move to fix either situation. The old Scarlett—the pastor's perfect daughter—would have been mortified. The new Scarlett, mountain woman in training, had better things to worry about.

Bodhi had changed too. His beard was still formidable but now slightly trimmed.

He ventured into town regularly without looking like he was plotting mass destruction.

Most surprisingly, when we'd visited my parents in October, he'd managed actual conversation with my father that didn't end in thinly veiled theological debates.

The visit had gone better than I'd expected.

My father, humbled by his resignation and the Richardson scandal, had made genuine efforts to connect with Bodhi.

My mother, while still sliding me the occasional brochure for Atlanta-based jobs, had at least stopped suggesting that mountain living was a "phase" I'd outgrow.

"What time did Josie say dinner was?" Bodhi asked, breaking into my thoughts.

"Six," I replied, licking frosting from my fingers. "Which gives us several hours to kill."

The gleam in his eyes told me exactly how he thought we should spend that time. Some things definitely hadn't changed.

***

"To friends and second chances!" Josie declared, raising her glass. The six of us—Flint and Josie, Bodhi and me, and the Kovacs, Mabel and her husband Harvey—clinked glasses across the dinner table.

Their home embodied organized chaos—children's artwork covering the walls, half-finished projects on every surface, and the constant background noise of their younger kids playing somewhere upstairs.

It couldn't have been more different from the sterile perfection of my parents' home, yet it felt infinitely more authentic.

"And to successful matchmaking," Flint added with a wink in our direction. "I should've charged you a finder's fee, Wilder."

Bodhi snorted. "I should charge you for emotional distress."

"Right," Flint scoffed. "Because you're clearly suffering, sharing your cabin with a beautiful woman who can actually stand your moods."

"He still refuses to wear slippers indoors," I stage-whispered. "And Colonel has better social skills."

Everyone laughed, including Bodhi, who squeezed my knee under the table.

These dinners had become a regular occurrence—this found family accepting me without question into their tight-knit circle.

The irony wasn't lost on me that I'd found more genuine connection in this tiny mountain town than in my father's megachurch with thousands of congregants.

"Speaking of matchmaking," Flint continued, setting down his glass with a theatrical flourish. "I've been thinking of expanding my business ventures."

Josie rolled her eyes fondly. "Here we go."

"Mountain Mates: The Flint Hawthorne Method!" He spread his hands like he was revealing a billboard. "One hundred percent success rate so far!"

"Your sample size is one couple," Mabel pointed out dryly.

"Quality over quantity, Mabel," Flint countered. "Besides, I've got a knack for seeing what people need before they know they need it."

"Like that time you decided Harvey needed a pet snake?" Josie reminded him.

Harvey shuddered visibly. "Still finding shed skin in my workshop."

Dinner continued with easy conversation and frequent laughter. By the time we drove back to the cabin, the night sky was a blanket of stars, the air crisp enough to see our breath.

Bodhi and I settled on the deck he'd finished back in August, bundled in blankets against the December chill. The mountains loomed dark against the star-studded sky, and somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled.

"I should check on the hens once more," Bodhi said, but made no move to get up from where we were cuddled together on the outdoor loveseat he'd built.

"They're fine," I assured him. "Colonel's probably got them all doing perimeter checks and security drills."

He chuckled, pulling me closer. "We need to finalize our Christmas plans. Your mother's called twice this week to confirm dates."

"I know. She's already planning which church ladies to scandalize with stories of my mountain man husband."

The word slipped out before I could catch it. Husband. We hadn't discussed marriage, not once in our whirlwind months together. Bodhi went still beside me, and I felt heat rush to my face.

"I didn't mean—" I started, backpedaling frantically. "It's just what my mother calls you. Not that I think we're—I mean, we haven't—"

"Scarlett," he interrupted my stammering, shifting to face me. "Stop talking."

"Stopping," I agreed, mortified.

To my surprise, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, its dark blue fabric worn with age.

"I was waiting for the right moment," he said, voice gruff. "But since you brought it up..."

My breath caught as he slid from the loveseat to one knee in front of me, snow crunching beneath him.

"I've been carrying this around for two weeks," he admitted, opening the box to reveal a vintage emerald ring set in white gold that I'd admired in Mabel's display case when we'd first visited town together. I'd thought he hadn't noticed my lingering gaze.

I couldn't speak as he took my hand.

"I'm not good with words," he continued. "But I know what I want, Scarlett. A life with you, here in these mountains or wherever we end up."

"Bodhi—"

"Marry me," he said simply. "Be my wife, for real this time. No mail-order schemes, no escape plans. Just us, together."

"Yes," I whispered, then louder, "Yes!"

The ring fit perfectly as he slid it onto my finger. When he kissed me, I tasted forever on his lips.

Later, as we lay tangled together in the bed we now shared without question, I thought about the strange, winding path that had led me here.

I'd come to Promise Ridge to lose my virginity and gain independence from my family's expectations.

I'd found so much more—strength I never knew I had, work that fulfilled me, and a love I'd never dared imagine existed.

"What are you thinking about?" Bodhi asked, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my bare shoulder.

"About how badly my plan backfired," I murmured against his chest.

"Which plan was that?"

"The one where I was supposed to seduce you, lose my virginity, and move on with my independent life," I admitted. "Instead, I got stuck with a mountain man, a judgmental rooster, and a forever kind of love."

"Terrible outcome," he agreed solemnly. "My condolences."

I propped myself up to look at him. "Best failure of my life."

Snow began to fall outside our window, but inside, wrapped in Bodhi's arms with his ring on my finger, I'd never felt warmer or more certain. My grand escape plan had succeeded after all—just not in any way I could have predicted. I'd escaped into exactly where I was meant to be all along.