Page 9 of Kissing the Wrong Mountain Man

"Should I, uh, carry you through the door, bridal style?" I ask, half jokingly, half awkwardly, when we reach the front door of my cabin.

"Why not? Give me the full wedding day experience." Schapelle grins, but when she realizes what she said, a pink hue dusts her cheeks. "Well, maybe not thefullexperience."

I nod. "Right."

Of course not, because this isn't a real marriage, it's simply a month-long arrangement.

I wasn't holding out much hope she'd even show up this morning. I wouldn't have blamed her if she hadn't. Marrying someone you don't know is…well, it's pretty darn crazy.

But the moment I saw her today, dressed in a lace mermaid dress with a halter top, my heart went into overdrive. Throughout the whole ceremony and on the drive back to my place, I kept saying to myself, over and over again,This is just a month-long arrangement.

Ihearthe words, I just can't seem to find a way to make them sink in. And while I may not be able to give her thefullwedding day experience, one thing is certain: I am seriously indebted to her. So I can give herthis.

An adorable squeak escapes her lips as I slip one arm under her legs and the other around her back, lifting her easily. She laughs softly, her hands resting on my shoulders as I carry her across the threshold. I can't help but smile, loving the warmth of her body pressing against mine.

Once inside, I carefully set her down.

She takes a few steps forward, her gaze sweeping from left to right. "Wow. This is not what I expected when you said you lived in a small cabin."

She walks around slowly, taking it all in. The cabin hadn't had much upkeep since its original build, probably in the 1960s, so I installed large glass panels to take advantage of the elevated mountain views and created an open-concept living area with a large fireplace, a modern, minimalist kitchen, and a built-in dining nook. Sliding doors lead out to a massive outdoor deck. The only thing left is finishing off the pergola.

I mentioned at the engagement party that she was welcome to stay with me for the month if she wanted. I got the sense that while she loved her parents, she was finding it a bit hard to concentrate on her work while living with them.

Again, I wouldn't have been surprised if she declined my offer, but she said she'd think about it. After our short ceremony this morning, she mentioned she'd like to see the place, if the offer still stood.

Oh, it stands all right.

But now that she's here, in my space, I'm suddenly overwhelmed. I never considered the very obvious implication that if she lives with me, she has to, well,live with me.

Me, who doesn't say a whole lot because I'm not much of a talker. Me, who lives a simple, quiet life where working on my cabin and tending to my veggies is about as exciting as it gets. Me, who's become an emotional ice block and isolated himself from the world and everyone in it.

She moves toward the hearth. "What's this?"

I cross the room, joining her by the mantle. "It's calledSafe and Sound, by an artist named Harry Jackson," I tell her, looking at the bronze statue of a Native American figure that's caught her eye.

"You're an art collector?"

My throat tightens, and I avert my gaze. "Belonged to a friend," I mumble.

"Is there a story? With the artwork, not the friend," she adds a little too quickly.

I stare at the figure. Yeah, there's a story there, all right. But I focus on the piece, and not the person I inherited it from. "It's about safety and security, symbolizing the desire to guard loved ones or preserve a sense of stability," I say, reciting what I remember from the research I did when it was given to me. "Like the bond between people in a relationship, or two best friends, or a parent looking after their child, you know?"

I wince. Was that the wrong thing to say? If it was, she doesn't show it, shifting a little closer to me.

My fingers itch to put my arm around her, but I don't.

Being around Schapelle muddles my instincts, like a radar getting interference. I haven't talked this much in years, haven't felt so comfortable around someone so quickly ever, and haven't even thought about inviting someone to stay with me.

"It's really beautiful." She skims her fingers over the bronze. "I like it."

"Thanks." I blow out a breath, and when I glance toward the kitchen, I remember something. I take a small box out of the refrigerator. "I got you this."

"What is it?"

Schapelle is on the other side of the white marble kitchen counter, so I slide it over to her side. "A small token of my appreciation."

She lifts the box and opens it, her eyes lighting up. "It's a mini wedding cake."

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