Page 4 of The Mountain Man's Irresistible Bride
Every time she laughs at something I say, I feel like the damn studs and beams aren’t the only things taking shape.
She gets in close. Measures twice. Cuts once. She talks about wanting to plant herbs outside, about curtains and paint colors, and a reading nook in the corner. She dreams out loud, and for some reason, I listen. For the first time in years, I listen.
She leans over to mark a beam, and her hip brushes mine—the air shifts. My hands freeze on the level I’m holding. I glance down at her and catch the faint rise of color in her cheeks. She felt it too.
I take a deliberate step back.
By sunset, the wall is finished, and she leans against it proudly. “See? Teamwork.”
I should keep my distance. I should remind myself she’s temporary. But when she smiles at me like she sees past the walls I’ve spent years building, I forget why I wanted space in the first place.
Because the truth is, I don’t want her here, I need her here. And that scares the hell out of me.
Chapter Three
Juniper
The fall market in Pine Hollow is the kind of small-town event you either fall in love with or run screaming from. Brightly colored booths, the scent of cider and kettle corn, and handmade everything fill the town square. Naturally, I want to go, and Elias thinks that’s a terrible idea.
“I have work,” he grunts from under the truck he’s been tinkering with all morning.
“You always have work.” I fold my arms and lean against the porch railing. “The walls are framed, the roof’s on, and we’ve got at least a week before Wren gets here. The living room can wait one afternoon.”
He pushes out from under the truck, grease on his cheek and suspicion in his eyes. “You just want caramel apples.”
“That, and to be seen with my grumpy husband,” I chirp, brushing my hair off my shoulder. “We are legally married, remember?”
His eyes narrow. “You’re up to something.”
“Oh, definitely.” I smile. “You coming?”
He scrubs a hand over his face and mutters something that sounds like a curse, but he grabs his flannel from the hook anyway.
Downtown is buzzing. Kids run past in puffy vests, leaves crunch under boots, and someone’s playing bluegrass near the bakery. The scent of maple, cinnamon, and roasted peanuts fillsthe air. People wave as we pass, curious eyes lingering longer than I’d like.
Dottie spots us from the front of the general store. She’s wearing a bright orange vest over her overalls, a mug of cider in hand.
“Well, well,” she calls out. “Would you look at this, Elias Boone in public with a woman.”
“I’m his wife,” I say brightly, looping my arm through his. “Surprise!”
Dottie barks out a laugh. “I had to hear it from Judge Peterson’s sister’s cousin’s neighbor. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard Elias say more than a word or two. He definitely didn’t tell anyone he was getting married.”
“He’s very chatty at home,” I say dryly.
Dottie eyes Elias with a smirk. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”
“I always do,” he mutters.
“You want cider or muffins?” Dottie asks.
“Both,” I say before Elias can open his mouth.
As we wait, a slender brunette with a messy bun and flour on her apron rushes over from the bakery booth next door.
“Juniper, right?” she says, beaming. “I’m Annie, I run the bakery. Welcome to Pine Hollow!”
“Thank you!” I smile back, already liking her.
