Page 32 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

“Are you okay?”

Silas’s first words in over an hour since we left Millsburg and our “I dos” behind us make me flinch—loud and gravelly in the tight space, like he’s barely reining in something he really wants to say and feigns concern instead.

I open my eyes and glance over at him. Our gazes meet for one moment—long enough for me to see heisgenuinely asking before he darts his attention back to the road as we approach the turn-in for his place.

The fact that he seems like he might actually give a shitshouldmake me feel better, but the man could just as well be wondering if I’m going to be “up” for consummating the marriage when we get back to the cabin.

Swallowing back my unease and the bile threatening to make its way out, I nod. “Yeah, the bumpy road is just messing with my stomach.”

Seems plausible.

A good explanation.

Better than telling him I’m freaking the fuck out about having to have sex with my new husband.

Silas doesn’t appear to be the kind of guy who will take it easy on me—ever. He’s already proven how demanding he is, how he expects me to walk on eggshells around him inhisspace and not ask questions about why he’s doing any of this, to simplyacceptthis is my life now and roll with it.

Which means a roll in the proverbial hay I am so not ready for.

I tighten my grip on Whiskey’s fur as Silas takes the turn into the woods that leads back to his property.

He snorts, as if my discomfort is somehow funny. “You get used to it.”

“I guess I’ll have to get used to a lot of things.”

Like his grumpy, shit attitude toward everything, especially me.

Still, it comes out a little harsher than I intend, and he doesn’t miss the bite in my voice. His hands tighten on the wheel, the ink that covers them drawing my attention. The man hasn’t been in a room with me long enough for me to examine any of the swirling tattoos that cover every exposed inch of his skin. I take the opportunity to zero in on a brightly colored parrot on his right hand—so out of place on a man who seems to only see things in black and white.

And I’m not helping anything with the way I just snapped at him.

I bite my bottom lip, and for a split second, I almost apologize. The only thing that stops me is the confidence that I won’t be able to get through it without bursting into tears.

For so many reasons.

Before the last month, I prided myself on always being strong, of facing anything life threw at me with a smile and positive attitude. But the last few weeks have battered and bruised me beyond what I ever thought I could survive—and it isfarfrom over.

It’s just beginning.

And the only reason I’m here is because I got myself into this situation. Iknewsex was going to have to be on the table for anyone to give me fifty grand.

I shouldn’t take it out on Silas, especially when it seems as though he has his own very complicated reasons for this, far beyond anything Carly could have anticipated when she was explaining the typical mail-order bride arrangement to me.

But I did what had to be done, and now, I have to live with all the consequences—even the gruff, tattooed, angry one sitting on the other side of this massive dog who now acts as the only buffer between us.

Thank God for Whiskey…

We return to our uncomfortable silence, and Whiskey sits up as we finally approach the small clearing in front of the cabin. Silas pulls the truck around the side of the house, and I finally see more of the property.

A barn sits back in the trees, surrounded by fenced-in livestock pens that hold a cow, goats, chickens, and what looks like a horse in the far field.

He has a whole farm up here—probably so he doesn’t have to go into town.

How long will I be stuck up here without any other human interaction exceptthisman?

Silas turns off the truck, opens his door, and climbs out with a huff, Whiskey jumping down after him. My husband dips his head to peer back in at me, his long, sandy hair hanging around his face, giving him an almost angelic appearance if it weren’t for the tattoos covering every inch of exposed skin. “You coming?”

I tighten my grip on the door, using it to ground myself so I don’t say or do anything to make this situation worse.

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