Page 2 of The Mountain Man's Irresistible Bride
“Great,” I say brightly, setting my tote bag down. “So where do I sleep?”
He looks around, then gestures vaguely. “I can finish that corner. Put up the wall. I’ll sleep in the shop tonight.”
“You have a shop?”
“Out back. Not much, but it’s dry.”
“You don’t have to give up your bed, if that’s what that is. We can share, you know. It’s just a marriage of convenience, right?”
That earns me a long, unreadable look. Then he mutters, “I’ll sleep in the shop.”
Fine by me. I’m tired, overwhelmed, and still weirdly fascinated by the quiet storm of a man who is about to become my husband.
I spend the afternoon sweeping, dusting, and finding a few mismatched plates and cups in a box shoved under a workbench. The fridge has a half-empty jar of mustard, an expired carton of milk, and nothing else.
When Elias returns later with a bag of groceries, silent as a shadow, I’m already curled up in a blanket with a paperback from my suitcase.
“Thanks,” I say softly.
He nods and sets the bag down on the counter. We move around each other awkwardly, like two strangers who’ve been dropped into a play with no script.
“Do you always glare like that?” I ask as I slice cheese for sandwiches.
“I’m not glaring.”
“That’s definitely a glare.”
“It’s my face.”
“Your face needs to work on not glaring.”
For half a second, the corner of his mouth twitches. I consider it a win.
That night, I lay in the half-framed bedroom, listening to the wind rustle the trees and the sound of hammering from the shop out back. It’s not what I expected, but then again, nothing about my life has gone to plan lately.
And Elias Boone? Well, he’s not thrilled about me, but I’ve got time and determination. He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m not just staying, I’m about to make this place a home.
Chapter Two
Elias
I didn’t want a wife, but I needed one for a legal solution. Just a signature on a piece of paper so I could secure guardianship of my niece, Wren, without the state breathing down my neck. She’s fifteen and so bright and tough. She’s hurting more than she’ll admit after losing her mother a few months ago. The last thing she needs is to be bounced around by people who don’t care about her.
This was supposed to be simple, but then Juniper Lancaster showed up on my porch with her bright clothes, too-big smile, and way too much cheer for someone walking into a half-finished cabin with a stranger she’d agreed to marry. She’s got this glow, like sunshine in human form, and it’s blinding.
I already know what happens when I care too much, when I try to build a life around people instead of wood and nails. People leave. But Juniper? She’s staying, at least for now.
She said it with her chin tilted and her hands on her hips like she dared me to tell her otherwise, and instead of shutting it down, I let her. Which might’ve been my first mistake.
Today, we drive into town for the ceremony. Judge Peterson agreed to sign the paperwork quietly, no big fuss—just me, Juniper, and the judge’s wife, as a witness.
Juniper’s wearing this soft green dress and boots that look like they’ve never seen mud. Her hair’s curled around hershoulders, and when she smiles at me, I swear the temperature rises ten degrees.
Judge Peterson gives her a warm hug, then turns to me and winks. “She’s prettier than you deserve, Elias.”
“Don’t I know it,” I mutter, and Juniper laughs softly like she heard it anyway. The sound lodges itself somewhere deep in my chest.
I grunt something close to polite as we sign the papers, and Judge Peterson drones on about legal commitments and mutual benefit. Juniper nods solemnly, even though she looks like she’s trying not to laugh at how stiff I am.
