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Speaking of my sexy lumberjack, I should hurry and get ready for work since he'll be here in forty-five minutes to take me to the flower shop.

I rush through my daily morning routine, cursing my limited amount of time. What I wouldn't give to practice a little self-care in the shower to take the edge off the burning desire throbbing in my clit. But there's no time for that—Wyatt will be here any minute.

Grabbing a shirt and a pair of jeans from my closet, I hastily slide them over my favorite lavender lace bra and panty set. The color enhances my brown eyes and hair, making me feel beautiful, although I doubt Wyatt will ever see me in them.

Curse my life.

If my life were truly my own, I would act on this intense instalove attraction I've felt for Wyatt since the first day he walked into the flower shop. However, because of an arranged marriage, I'm promised to someone else, though it's not official yet.

That's why I ran away from home. I wanted a chance to experience a bit of freedom before marrying Arthur Webster the Third, or Artie, as he prefers to be called. He is soon to run for public office, and he needs a trophy wife who understands her role in the political world.

It's not the life I want. I want a simple life—living with a man I love who loves me back. Not a showpiece, used as a pawn in a world of power and deceit. Unfortunately, I was born into that life.

A knock on my front door pulls me from my impending doom. I glance at my alarm clock—Wyatt is right on time, as always.

I grab my coat and purse and head toward a future I can't have, waiting for me behind the door. It teases me just like my dream lover Wyatt teases me at night.

"Hi. "I smile at my sexy lumbersnack—you know the type. A man who works in the woods who is so damn sexy with washboardabs and dark, broody looks—one strong enough to throw his curvy woman over his shoulder and carry her to the bedroom.

Holding in a sigh, I pull the door closed behind me, turning the handle to ensure it's locked. Not that anyone in this small mountain town would steal from me; it’s more out of habit than anything else.

"Hi, yourself." Wyatt smiles, brushing a lock of hair out of my eyes as I fight the urge to turn my head and rub my cheek against his palm.

"We should go. I don't want to be late." I step out of his touch, hating how empty I feel.

Get over it, Sienna. Wyatt isn't meant for you. He's meant for a sweet mountain girl who will willingly warm his bed at night and give him a dozen children. Not some political princess caught in a game of lies.

Wyatt raises an eyebrow, as if I'm a puzzle he's trying to solve. It's a look I know well from him.

"Right," he finally says as we walk to his truck, the silence between us feeling almost unbearable for me.

I wish I could share all my secrets with him, especially the one where I confess my love for him. "It's just that it's Friday and you know how busy Fridays are," I say instead, trying not to let my sadness show.

Once we reach his truck, he opens the door and helps me climb onto the running board—a new addition to his vehicle, installed after the first day when I struggled to get in. At five feet three inches, it felt like scaling Mount Everest rather than climbing into the cab of a truck. Not that I minded having his hands grip my hips while he lifted me into the seat that first day.

"We're still having movie night tonight, right?" He holds the door as I scramble into the seat.

"Of course. It's a tradition." A tradition that began six weeks ago on Valentine's Day.

That night, it was storming so badly that I couldn't let Wyatt drive on the twisty mountain road leading to his cabin in the woods. Especially not after he helped me at the flower shop when my boss went missing while making deliveries on that same mountain road.

Fortunately, Blossom was rescued by Chance, and they finally acknowledged their true feelings for each other. Meanwhile, I push away a man who continually pursues me, regardless of how many times I reject him.

With a quick nod, he shuts the truck door and makes his way to the driver's side, opening the door. "Here. I picked up breakfast." He slides into the seat, closing the door with a click. He reaches for the plate on the dashboard that holds an Asiago cheese bagel from the local bakery, cut in half and slathered in cream cheese, and offers it to me to choose which half I want.

I choose the fluffy top half, knowing that if I try to take the flat bottom, he will shake his head and switch pieces. "Thanks." I bite into the delicious piece of heaven with a moan, feeling a glob of cream cheese sticking to my lips.

Innocently, I stick out my tongue, wiping the wayward cream from my lips. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch his gaze follow the trail of my tongue—the heat in his eyes seems hot enough to set the whole town ablaze.

It's a risky game, teasing him like this, but my pitiful little heart is going to take whatever scraps it can get with Wyatt.

Clearing his throat, he picks up his half of the bagel and motions to the two large fountain glasses of Pepsi sitting in the center of the council, as usual. Soft drinks are my weakness—or at least Pepsi is. It's something my parents always frowned upon. With all its sugar, it isn’t good for my weight.

Artie always makes little comments about that one guilty pleasure I can't seem to break—nor do I want to. But Wyatt indulges me in that guilty pleasure, even joining in each morning and never once complaining about the sugar content.

We finish our breakfast in comfortable silence, reminding me again of how perfect Wyatt is. He drives through our quaint little town as if we are a normal couple rather than whatever our relationship is.

Wyatt pulls in front of the flower shop, leaving the truck running and not bothering to park in his usual spot. He strolls around the front of the truck, leaving me feeling confused. This isn't howour day goes. He always parks the truck and spends the entire day with me in the flower shop. He's become such a fixture that some of the townspeople think he's an employee. It doesn't help that I've put him to work.

I try to push the panic aside as Wyatt opens the truck door. "I have a few things I need to take care of today. I'll pick you up after work for movie night." He leans in and kisses my forehead, which intensifies the panic inside me. A kiss on my forehead isn't how I pictured our first kiss.

He's given up on me—I've waited too long to tell him how I feel about him. I knew I should have left town weeks ago when I still had my heart intact. "Sure." I smile weakly as he steps back, takes my hand, and helps me out of his truck. "I'll see you later." I dash to the flower shop before I break down in tears.

Get it together, Sienna—this life isn't real. You knew it would end someday.