Page 37 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

Apparently, despite us coming to what I thought was a relatively friendly agreement about our predicament last night over an awkwardly silent dinner, Silas would still rather spend his time with the animals than with me.

I stare at the empty chair where he slept last night, trying not to remember what he looked like with the fire flickering in front of him, illuminating his strong, angular features. The way, even in his sleep, his brow furrowed and he flinched like something was chasing him, something he didn’t want to catch him.

He’s running; I’m trying to hold on.

The irony of the situation isn’t lost on me—thathismoney—that he never wanted to touch—might be keeping me from losing the only thing I really give a shit about in this entire world.

As comfortable as Silas’ warm bed is this morning, I owe it to him to try to help in any way I can around here. No doubt it’s a lot of work for him to run this homestead alone. If I’m going to be here, I can’t sleep my days away, only getting out of bed to cook and do what little cleaning the small space requires.

It’s been so long since I haven’t had a job thatnotdoing anything feels wrong. And helping him can only make things easier.

Theoretically.

I throw back the covers and pull on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that I dig out of one of my small suitcases—likely the only type of clothes I’m really going to need up here.

And we’re going to have to talk about that…

My thorough examination of the cabin yesterday after he ditched me revealed only the single small dresser that holds his basic clothing—consisting mostly of a hell of a lot of flannel and jeans—and no closet to actually hang anything in.

Not that I would need something fancy up here, anyway.

I stare at the lacy white sundress I wore yesterday, where it’s draped over the end of the bed and release a heavy sigh. The next time we go into town, I’ll see if there’s a thrift store or somewhere else I can get rid of the stuff I won’t need and grab more jeans and workwear, since that’s apparently what my life is going to be like.

Not that it’s necessarily a bad thing.

Working hard never scared me before, and I’m not above getting my hands dirty to be useful to my newroommate.

I pull my hair back into a ponytail and step out into the warm spring morning. Unlike on the ride up here, the pervasive piney, woodsy scent of the air doesn’t immediately make my stomach revolt. Birds chirp and soar through the blue sky. Leaves rustle in the light breeze. An energy permeates everything—the world coming back to life after being in a winter slumber.

Something tells me it isn’t pleasant up here once the temps drop and snowflakes start flying, and being cooped up in this cabin withthatman for months on end won’t be, either.

Despite the tiny fissure in his hard exterior last night, the wall is still there. It might always be. Towering between us. Preventing him from telling me why he’s so closed off and volatile.

It’s only been two days—two very stressful and confusing ones—but somehow, it feels like Silas will go out of his way to keep me locked out forever.

That’s going to make for a very lonely marriage for both of us.

That sense of dread that won’t stop lingering in my head at the thought of this potentially being forever tries to push its way to the forefront again, but I will it back down.

Just keep reminding yourself of why you’re doing this.

Love.

I step out onto the porch, closing the door behind me as I inhale another lungful of the fresh mountain air.

A quick scan of the small clearing makes it obvious why Silas loves it up here. Though wilderness certainly has never been my thing, it would be impossible not to see the stunning beauty of the endless towering trees and understand the benefits of the unpolluted air.

But there’s no sign of Silas or Whiskey.

Without having explored the property yet, I have no idea where to search for the enigmatic man, but the barn seems like a safe bet.

I round the corner of the log cabin and get my first sight of Silas Bolton in his element.

He stands with his back to me, shirt off, axe raised high overhead before he swings it down, slamming it into a piece of timber propped up on a large stump off to the left side of the barn.

I stumble mid-step.

Holy hell…

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