Married to the Alien Mountain Man (Cowboy Colony Mail-Order Brides, #5)

by Ursa Dax

“I am sorry if I am being too harsh,” I said with a small sigh as I seated myself beside her. I stretched out my legs in front of me, rolling my stiff right ankle. “Perhaps I am not in the best mood today.”

BABY?? He’s so sweet

She stood at least two heads shorter than me, and yet it was as if she’d suddenly grown larger than any other thing around us. More imposing than the towering mountains. More dizzying than the searing breadth of the sky. My vision became a dark, opaque tunnel with only her visible at the centre.

This disembodied voice, as far as I could tell, was not a male voice. That was good. I did not stop to analyze why, exactly, I thought it was good this pretty pilot was not travelling with a male.

Did I say there was something wrong with him? I take it back. This is the best alien murderer with a possible concussion that I’ve ever met. I love you, you weird, mouse-eared, dark-haired, jolly green stranger!

JAYA!!!! FINAL WARNING - never speak to my baby son like that ever again

“My name is Oaken,” I told her in gentle tones. “I may be a prisoner of this world, but every day I try my best to be a decent sort of man. I may not have many credits to my name. I may not have parts for your ship. But I have walls to put around you. Food on my table to share with you. I can’t give you much. But I can give you a place here. And I can give you time. The time you need.”

MY SHAYLA

That twinge of earlier guilt very rudely turned into a full-on cramp.

YOU SHOULD! He’s a baby

“Don’t let Garrek hear you say that,” Warden Tenn said, casting a furtive look around to make sure my cousin hadn’t heard.

I was ninety-nine percent sure the guy was a weirdo. I was one hundred percent sure that he was also a total sweetheart.

“Oaken got married?!” he cried, his gaze swinging wildly between Magnolia and me. “And I was not invited?!”

MY OTHER SHAYLA

“I can walk on my own, Oaken,” I protested drowsily. “I know,” he murmured against my hair. And then, in the last moments before I fell asleep, he softly added, “But you don’t have to. Not while you’ve got me.”

Tasha had seemed really nice and helpful so far. But if she had said something mean to Oaken… We were going to have some words, she and I.

“I think you are beautiful. And I would very much like to perform cunni-linguine on you.”

OAKEN, PLEASE

“I worry,” he said, stepping in close behind me. So close that I felt the heat of his chest through the shirt on my back. “I worry that… That you might get blisters one day, out on some other world without me. And I won’t be there to carry you home when you do.”

My home was the most important thing to me. But my home wasn’t a ship anymore. My home was a person. And that person was Oaken.