Page 36 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

She pauses and glances over at me, uncertainty in her green eyes. “I made a call from the courthouse this morning and got the money where it needed to go.”

I nod slowly and take another sip of my beer. “And what did you tell the person on the other end of the line?”

“Nothing about you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I understand what the NDA means. I won’t tell anyone who you are, where we are, or that we did this.”

Won’t tell anyone.

For some reason, the thought ofno oneknowing where she is or why raises my hackles as much as Ronald did Whiskey’s. The dog sits next to her in front of the stove, leaning against her thigh, staring up at her adoringly while I debate whether I should even ask.

“What about your job? What about your family? Won’t there be people wondering where you went, worried?”

She squeezes her eyes closed, her pain palpable and radiating from her in a way I recognize all too well. “No one is looking for me. You don’t have to worry about that, either…”

Her assurance should be enough to release the knot from my stomach, but the way she speaks about no one looking for her makes this entire situation worse.

I left the world behind intentionally, fled here to protect myself. Since the moment I arrived, I’ve relished my solitude. Needed it to survive what had been done to me. But Lyla craves human interaction and affection.

Shewantssomeone to miss her, to be looking for her. She may say she didn’t want a husband, but she wantedsomethingother than that fifty thousand dollars when she came up this mountain.

Something I can’t possibly ever give her.

She pulls the pan from the stove and turns off the heat, then forces a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes as she turns toward me. “Dinner’s ready.”

I glance down into the pan. “What did you make?”

One of her slender shoulders rises and falls. “A stir-fry, of sorts. I found rice in your pantry and what Ithinkis pork and some vegetables in your fridge. I didn’t have what I needed to make anything even remotely resembling a proper sauce, but”—she shrugs again—“it will have to do.”

The way she tries to downplay what she’s created from whatever random crap she’s found in here doesn’t sit right with me. “It looks a thousand times better than anything I’ve ever made for myself, and it smells delicious.”

She moves over to the table and sets the pan on a pot holder, then grips the back of the chair for a minute, staring down before she looks over at me. “I know neither of us wants this, but since it has to happen, I’m going to have to figure out how to live here, and you’re going to have to figure out how to live with me, as roommates.”

The word makes me flinch. “Yeah, roommates.”

“I can cook. I can clean.” She motions absently toward the side of the property where I keep the livestock. “I can learn to help you with the animals and whatever else you need done.”

I snort as I make my way over to the table and pull out the chair opposite her to take a seat. “You don’t know the first thing about taking care of animals on a homestead.”

“No, but I know about taking care of other human beings.”

Her words come sharp and with a bite to them that makes me pause with my beer bottle halfway to my mouth. It’s the first real crack she’s shown in her armor. There’s something in what she said, a hint about why she’s here, but she doesn’t offer anything more. And I don’t dare press her and risk damaging this fragile truce.

Lyla returns to the stove, grabs a pot of rice, and brings it over to the table. Setting it down, she takes her seat, Whiskey settling under her feet. “So, we’re on the same page?”

I down the rest of my beer and set the empty on the table, peeling at the label. It isn’t much—more of an uneven, rolling log we’re both trying to walk across without falling into the raging rapids of uncertainty threatening to sweep us away, but it’s as much of a bridge as we’re going to get right now.

“We are.”

Roommates.

Absolutely.

Positively.

Nothing more.

ChapterSix

LYLA

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