Page 8 of Out on a Limb

No, I don’t need a wife. I’ve survived this long without one just fine.

But sometimes you’ve gotta make the big bet. That’s what life is all about, right? Swinging for the bleachers.

“People do it.” Nudging the refrigerator door closed, I stroll forward a few steps. Jana’s still shaking her head at me, wide-eyed with shock, her body swamped by pale blue button-down pajamas. So fucking cute. What I’d give to unwrap her like a homecoming gift… but I’m getting ahead of myself. “Strangers get married for green cards and inheritances and shit like that all the time.”

My squatter fiddles with the tomato as she stares at me, turning it over and over in her hands. And Christ, she looks good with her short, black hair all rucked up and messy from sleep. Want to ruffle that spiky bedhead with my palm, then kiss down her elegant neck until she squirms.

“So you need a wedding on paper.” She wets her lips and speaks slowly. “Like—like a marriage of convenience. A fake arrangement.”

I shrug, fighting another grin. “Sure.”

That’s step one of this master plan, anyway.

And I’m not fending off laughter because this is all a joke for me or anything—I’m serious. Dead serious. My whole body is tensed up as I wait for Jana’s answer, muscles clenched and gut aching with fierce hope, but I’ve always responded to high-pressure situations with humor; always cracked jokes to let off steam.

I want this. Even though I only met this woman a few scant moments ago, I want this so fucking badly. Every cell in my body screams out for it, like I’d be working against the mysterious forces of fate to walk away now.

I want Jana Kumara in my cabin.

Jana Kumara in my bed.

My ring on Jana Kumara’s finger.

Yeah. Fuck. I’ll do anything.

Jana huffs and strides past me to the kitchen again, the tomato gripped firmly in one hand like she means business. “You’re exhausted, Stig Hansen. Dehydrated too, and your blood sugar is probably low. You need to eat something and rest. You’ll regret all this crazy talk in the morning.”

Pans clatter and cupboards thump as the woman I only just met—and instantly proposed to—sets about making me an omelet. Her shoulders are bunched up around her ears, and when I prop myself against the counter next to her, Jana shoots me a wary look.

Not like she’s scared of me. Like she’s scared of my proposal; scared that she might actually be tempted. Honey-brown eyes dart along my body from head to toe before whipping away, and her hands tremble as she cracks an egg. A dark flush spreads over her cheekbones.

My fingers drum against the counter, and I fish for the right words to sway her.

“You like this cabin, don’t you?”

Jana rolls her eyes, beating the eggs together in a bowl. Her body shifts under her pajama shirt as she works, and fuck, my mouth goes dry.

Can’t look away from her. Can’t get enough. If I’d known Jana Kumara was in Starlight Ridge this whole time, I never would’ve gone away.

“Real estate is not a good reason to marry someone,” she says now, like she’s reminding herself. Tomatoes sizzle in the pan, softening up and releasing their juices, and my stomach clenches on nothing, growling loud enough to rattle the cabin walls.

“What is a good reason?” I ask.

Jana snorts, pouring the eggs into the pan. A loud hiss fills the air. “Love, you maniac.”

“Well, we’ll build up to that.”

That blush darkens, but the look Jana gives me is pure scorn. Adrenaline spikes in my veins, and god, I could hike another twenty miles after meeting this woman.

This is what I’ve been missing my whole life. This is the sensation I’ve been chasing for so long, searching every nook and cranny of the wilderness.

Pure, unadulterated thrill.

“It’s just on paper,” I remind her. For now. “And you get to live in the cabin, plus half my assets and all that other marriage stuff.”

“I don’t want your assets—wait, where will you live?”

I nod at the curtain-covered windows. “Out there. Though if you let me in to shower sometimes, I’d be grateful. So would anyone who brushes past me in the grocery store.”

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