Page 78 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

What if you need more money? What if the attorney comes back and says he needs more?

The five million I’ll get if I stay in this marriage for five more years would take care of a lot. It would set me up for life. I don’t need anything extravagant, enough to take care of the basics—because if the attorney does his job, I’ll need to be thinking about more than just me.

I’ve tried not to dwell on what’s happening so many miles away, the things out of my control and in the hands of people with far higher pay grades than I’ll ever have. I’ve done my best to think about the here and now, the things Icancontrol.

But Silas Bolton isdefinitelynot one of them.

I huff out an annoyed breath and check on the water. Now that it’s finally boiling, I pour it into the French press and send up a silent prayer for meeting Carrie Ann yesterday. The rest of the day may have gone to shit after some of the best sex of my life, but at least I got some decent joe out of it. Simply knowing I’m about to get a caffeine kick from it lightens my mood a bit.

It seems up here, the simple things are what I’m going to have to cling to in order to survive.

I press down the plunger on the old-fashioned brewer and let it sit while I grab a mug and sugar. The aroma starts to fill the kitchen, and I pour myself a cup, taking a long, deep inhale of the fragrant steam.

Man, I could really go for another cupcake from the bakery.

But I have to take what I can get up here.

Which means attitude from Silas, unconditional love from Whiskey, and this cup of coffee I can sit and enjoy while I contemplate the inner workings of that man’s head.

I settle into his big chair in front of the dwindling fire and take a sip as I stare into the low flames. Even with the heat still radiating from it, I shiver and snuggle down deeper into the old leather.

It feels so empty without him here, knowing he isn’t on the property hiding from me somewhere like he did last night. I’ve gotten used to his presence, as cold and unwelcoming as it can be sometimes, but I can’t do this anymore.

I won’t dance around the man who seems to want to run from happiness.

When I first decided to do the mail-order bride thing, I thought it would be a death sentence when it came to actually finding someone Iwantedto spend my life with, but somehow, over the tumultuous days I’ve spent with Silas, I had started to believe it could actually happen for us if he gave it a chance…

I take another sip of my coffee and start to set my cup on the small table next to the chair, but the sound of wheels on the gravel outside makes me freeze.

He’s back already?

My stomach flip-flops—unsure whether I actuallywantto see Silas and have the inevitable confrontation with him or whether I want to enjoy the quiet for a few more minutes before everything implodes.

You can’t avoid it any longer.

I push out of the chair and make my way over to the door, tugging it open before he can run off and hide from me again. But it isn’t his big truck pulling in front of the cabin. A black SUV comes to a stop near the bottom of the porch steps, its darkly tinted windows hiding the occupants.

Who the hell is this?

The rear passenger door opens, and I glimpse silver hair.

Ronald’s back? With a driver this time.

Only, the man who steps out in expensive Italian loafers and a perfectly tailored suit isn’t Ronald. Familiar blue eyes assess me, the same ones I stared into while I was riding Silas yesterday.

This man must be a Bolton.

He buttons his suit coat and offers me a smile that sends a shiver down my spine. I take a half-step back so I’m fully inside the cabin, should I need to slam the door closed in his face.

Something about the man screamsrun, and I’m prepared to do just that in a fucking heartbeat.

“Hello.” His smooth voice holds a hint of icy chill that tells me everything he says is carefully chosen and well-practiced. “Good morning.”

“Uh, hi.”

He approaches the porch but stops at the bottom of the stairs. “I’m looking for my nephew, Silas.”

Nephew?

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