Page 79 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

I glance behind me into the cabin, even though I’m not going to find who he’s looking for. “He is not here at the moment, but he should be back soon.”

A slow grin spreads across the man’s face as he takes a few steps up to reach the porch, now only a handful of feet from me. “Then I guess that gives us time to get to know each other.” He extends a hand, flashing cufflinks with an engravedBon them. “Marty Bolton, and you are?”

One of his silver brows rises slowly. He’s asking, but something tells me he already knows. It’s the way he looks at me, picking me apart. Almost like a boxer entering the ring and sizing up his opponent to determine the best way to demolish him with the fewest blows.

I transfer my coffee to my left hand and accept his in my right. “Lyla.”

Another shudder overtakes me at the contact of his smooth palm against my own, and he leans in quickly, pressing a kiss to each of my cheeks before I can pull away.

What the fuck?

He pulls back and glances down into my cup of coffee as he releases my hand. “I see you have a cup of fresh coffee. May I trouble you for one?”

So casual, so smooth, the way he invites himself into the cabin withoutactuallydoing it.

What I wouldn’t give to have Whiskey here right now…

I never realized how safe the dog and Silas made me feel here on the homestead until they were both gone.

My unexpected visitor holds up his hands and offers an apologetic half-smile that doesn’t touch the frigid chill in his gaze. “Only if it isn’t too much of a bother.”

I glance behind him at the SUV, where a man sits in the driver’s seat, looking down at something and not paying us any attention.

Marty waves his hand backward. “Oh, my driver will be fine. You said Silas should be back shortly, correct? We’ll just wait for him and have a chat.”

I sure as hell hope he will be.

Whatever happened between Silas and his family, something tells me he won’t be happy to see his uncle here when he returns. But this may be my chance to find out what caused the rift and sent Silas up the mountain. I might figure out why this fake marriage was so important to him and Ronald.

I step out of the way to allow Marty to enter, and his shrewd gaze darts around the cabin, from the unmade bed to the low fire, the leather chair in front of it, then over to the small kitchen. Less than thirty seconds to see the entire place.

“Quaint. Not exactly how I expected my nephew to be living.”

The clear judgment in his observations makes me stiffen with the need to defend the way Silas lives. My fingers tighten around my mug while I try to remove the annoyance from my voice. “He loves it here. Living off the grid and on his own terms.”

He nods slowly as he follows me into the kitchen. I set my coffee on the counter and pour another cup from the French press for him.

“Sugar?”

“Black.”

He slowly lowers himself into one of the chairs at the small table that rattles unevenly underneath him. His eyes dart down to the legs and hand-hewn floors, and he smirks, like he finds it funny that his nephew would walk on anything other than imported Italian marble.

I hand him the mug, and he accepts it, his fingers brushing against mine in a way that sends another chill through me. Lowering myself into my seat opposite him, I grab my coffee and bring it to my lips.

“So, Lyla”—he grins—“tell me what you’re doing up here with my nephew.”

I almost choke on my coffee, but I manage to swallow it down before I answer him. “I don’t think that’s really any of your business.”

He recoils slightly, like he isn’t used to people not answering his questions, then chuckles. “I guess you’re right. It isn’t. But it’s been a while since I’ve seen my nephew. So, I’m obviously quite interested in what’s been going on in his life. A beautiful woman like you, and he’s keeping her a secret, living up here like this?” He raises a shoulder and lets it fall casually, though the way he’s sitting tells me this is anything but a casual visit. He takes a sip of his coffee, keeping his eyes on me. “You have my mother’s ring on a very important finger.”

Fuck.

I quickly pull my left hand from the mug and put it under the table on my thigh, but it’s far too late to hide it.

Marty smirks. “You’re married?”

Answering him feels wrong, like admitting it will be throwing Silas to the fucking wolves, but I can’t very well deny it when he’s already seen the multi-carat evidence.

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