Page 14 of The Mountain Man's Irresistible Bride
“Morning,” she says softly.
I turn. She’s wearing one of my flannels, oversized and hitting mid-thigh. Her hair is still damp, skin flushed, lips pink. She looks like a dream.
“Coffee?” she asks.
I nod, and she moves to the cabinet like she’s lived here for years. The silence stretches as she fills the kettle and scoops grounds into the press.
I force myself to speak. “Last night can’t happen again.”
She doesn’t flinch. Just nods, lips pressed tight.
“This marriage is for Wren. Nothing’s changed.”
Except everything has.
She sets the mug down with a soft clink. “Right.”
Her voice is light, but I know I’ve hurt her. Before I can say another word, Wren walks into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. She pauses, glancing between us.
Her brow arches.
Juniper doesn’t miss a beat. “Morning! Hope you like cinnamon rolls. I made them last night.”
She gestures to the covered pan on the counter.
Wren blinks. “You bake?”
Juniper grins. “I’m a woman of many talents. Cinnamon rolls are just one of my superpowers.”
Wren snorts, but her lips twitch. She grabs a plate and helps herself.
I watch the two of them from the doorway, feeling like a stranger in my own home. Except… it doesn’t feel like mine anymore. It feels like ours. The kitchen smells like cinnamon and sugar. There’s laughter. All I can think is how right it feels.
Later that afternoon, I’m finishing the living room build when Wren wanders in, sketchbook tucked under her arm.
“Need help?” she asks.
I pause. “Sure.”
She puts the sketchbook down and picks up the other end of the beam I’m bracing. She’s strong for her age. She looks so much like her mother. I swallow that thought.
We work in quiet, the rhythmic thump of the hammer filling the space.
“Juniper’s cool,” she says suddenly.
I grunt. “Yeah.”
“She’s weird. In a good way.”
I glance at her, and she shrugs.
“She leaves notes in my sketchbook. Little quotes and stuff. Also, she doesn’t freak out when I’m quiet.”
I nod again, throat tight. “She makes this place feel less empty.”
I don’t know what to say to that, because she’s right. Juniper filled every room the moment she walked through the door.
Later that night, I find Juniper on the porch, curled up under a blanket, sipping something from a mug. She doesn’t look at me as I sit beside her.
