Page 7 of The Mountain Man's Irresistible Bride
“Didn’t know mountain lions lumbered.”
“They do when they’re grumpy.”
I scrub a hand over my jaw. “You didn’t have to do this.”
She shrugs. “She’s your niece, and this is her room. It should feel warm. Comfortable. I want to show her we care enough to make it nice.”
Her words hit harder than they should. I can’t remember the last time someone gave that kind of thought to anything in this house. Guilt mixes with frustration in my chest.
I walk into the room and inspect the wall. “You’ve got paint in your hair.”
Juniper grins. “Probably. I’m a menace with a brush.”
I step closer. “Here.” I reach out before I can think better of it and gently pick the dried paint from her hair. She goes still beneath my hand. Her breath catches. Her eyes lift to mine.
The silence stretches. My fingers linger longer than they should. I clear my throat and step back like I touched a live wire. I turn to leave.
She says behind me, “You don’t have to do it alone, you know.”
I pause.
She keeps going, quietly. “You take everything on your shoulders, like you’re afraid to let anyone help. This is my home now, too. Let me help you carry some of it.”
My throat tightens. I don’t know how to answer that, so I leave.
Dinner is quiet. Too quiet.
She makes soup and biscuits. I open a bottle of wine. She chats about Annie and the fall market and how she wants todecorate the porch with pumpkins. I grunt in all the right places, but my mind’s a storm.
I watch her over the rim of my glass. The way she dips her head when she laughs at her own jokes. The way she licks a crumb from her bottom lip. Everything about her is soft and bright and maddeningly beautiful.
Finally, she slams her spoon down. “This isn’t working.”
I lift a brow. “The soup’s fine.”
“I’m not talking about the soup. I’m talking about this. You stomping around like I’m invading your life, when we’remarried.”
“It’s not real,” I snap before I can stop myself.
She jerks back like I hit her.
“I mean—” I rake a hand through my hair. “It’s legal, but it’s temporary. You know that.”
She stands slowly, her eyes flashing. “I’m just a placeholder? A means to an end?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“But it’s what you meant.”
I rise to my feet. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t want a wife. I needed a name on a form so I could get custody of Wren.”
Her chin trembles, but she doesn’t cry. “And what happens to me once the judge signs off?”
I open my mouth, close it again. I don’t have an answer.
She steps toward me, her jaw set. “I’ve cleaned your filthy kitchen. Washed your laundry. Helped build this house, cooked your meals, and put up with your damn mood swings all for a teenager I haven’t even met. That has to mean something.”
The air crackles. Her chest rises and falls with each breath. I’m aware of everything. The fire in her eyes, the flush in her cheeks, the way her shirt clings to her curves. Her scent is embedded in my brain.
