Page 17 of The Mountain Man's Irresistible Bride
Later, as the night deepens, Elias disappears to grab something from the truck. I take the opportunity to join Wren at a hay bale ringed around one of the smaller fires. She looks relaxed, jacket zipped up, fingers toasting a marshmallow on a stick.
“You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”
She shrugs. “It’s okay. Better than being in a group home.”
My heart tightens at the flatness of her voice. “You’re not there anymore. You’re here, with family.”
She glances at me, brow raised. “You’re not family.”
The words sting more than they should.
But then she mutters, “Not yet,” and my breath catches.
I don’t respond. Just offer her a Graham cracker and chocolate. We build the s’more in silence. Small wins. That’s how we’ll get there.
I go looking for cider and pass by one of the fire pits. Elias is standing with the same man from earlier, talking low.
“She seems sweet,” the man says. “Didn’t think you’d go for a mail-order wife, Boone.”
“Wasn’t about me,” Elias replies. “It’s just for Wren.”
My heart stops…just for Wren.
I step back, heart pounding, cider forgotten. The night feels colder now. Harsher. I slip away before he sees me, before I break.
I was just fooling myself.
I wander toward the parking lot, trying to hold it together. My eyes blur with tears, but I blink them away. I won’t cry here where someone might see.
I sit on the tailgate of Elias’s truck, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders. It doesn’t help. I’m chilled to the bone.
I’d let myself believe this was something more. That the kisses, the touches, the way he looked at me meant something, but I was just convenient. And my heart? Apparently, that was never part of the plan.
Behind me, the music shifts to something more upbeat. Laughter and clapping echo from the field. I close my eyes. I don’t belong here. Not if he doesn’t want me for real. Not if I’m just playing house in someone else’s life.
Chapter Ten
Elias
I should feel good this morning. The firewood is stacked high, the storm’s passed, and the cabin smells like cinnamon and pine. But I don’t, I feel like shit.
I’m in town, without Juniper, and it doesn’t feel right. I’m halfway through loading supplies into the truck when Dottie corners me behind the general store. She steps out of the back door like she’s been lying in wait, arms crossed, apron dusted with flour, and a scowl that could level mountains.
“That girl has been walking around with her heart in her hands since the day she arrived,” she says, voice low and fierce. “And you, Elias Boone, are doing a damn fine job of stomping on it.”
I open my mouth, but she holds up a hand.
“Don’t even try it. You think the whole town hasn’t noticed the way she looks at you? The way you look at her when you think no one’s watching? You might be able to fool yourself, but you’re not fooling us.”
“It’s not that simple,” I mutter.
“It never is,” she snaps. “You think love is some neat, easy thing you can schedule around your grief? You think you’ll get a perfect moment when you feel brave enough? You won’t. You either grab it while it’s there, or you lose it. And right now, you’re about to lose the best damn thing that’s happened to you in years.”
She steps closer and pokes a finger into my chest.
“Fix it. Before she walks away for good.”
I rub my jaw, feeling the weight of her words. She’s not wrong. I’ve been hiding, telling myself I don’t deserve more, telling myself I can’t want her, but I do. I think I’ve known that since the day she arrived with her bright eyes and ridiculous purple suitcases.
