Page 5 of The Mountain Man’s Curvy Bride (Mountain Man Sanctuary #3)

Wes

It's been a few days since Daisy and I exchanged vows at the courthouse, and the reality of our arrangement is slowly sinking in. Slowly. Honestly, I’m still adjusting to sharing my once quiet and solitary cabin with someone so full of life and energy.

Daisy seems to be settling in just fine, though.

Better than fine, actually. She's taken to the cabin and the mountain like she’s always belonged here, humming cheerfully as she moves around my kitchen, making herself perfectly at home.

Today, the sweet aroma of chocolate fills the air, mingling with the warmth from the wood-burning stove. I glance up from my spot on the worn leather couch, where I've been half-listening to the lawyer drone on about my uncle's will.

“Yes, Mr. Walker,” the lawyer says in his usual monotonous voice. "The terms are very clear. You must remain married for one year before the inheritance will be fully transferred to your name."

"A full year?" I groan inwardly, pinching the bridge of my nose.

I had hoped it might be a few weeks, a month tops.

An entire year feels like an eternity, especially considering the last few nights I've spent tossing and turning restlessly on the couch, unable to sleep, my thoughts consumed by Daisy.

I glance toward the kitchen again, watching her stir a pot of fudge, her movements graceful and rhythmic.

Her long blonde hair catches the sunlight filtering through the window, shimmering like spun gold.

The fabric of her snug sweater clings enticingly to her curves, and I shift uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of the tightness in my jeans.

This living arrangement is torture—and not just because of the uncomfortable sleeping conditions.

"Mr. Walker?" the lawyer prompts, breaking through my distracted thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you," I mutter, forcing myself to focus. "One year. Got it."

"Excellent," he replies blandly. "Once the terms are met, the funds will be released, and you can move forward with your plans."

I hang up, sighing deeply. My plans. For years, I've dreamed of starting a dog ranch, a sanctuary and training facility nestled in these mountains.

A place where abandoned or rescued dogs could heal and thrive.

Something meaningful, something real. But first, there's the matter of surviving a full year of marital bliss—or whatever you call this bizarre situation Daisy and I have gotten ourselves into.

Daisy glances up from the stove, catching me watching her. Her bright blue eyes sparkle mischievously as she smiles. "Everything okay over there, Wes?"

"Fine," I say, clearing my throat. "Just finished talking to the lawyer about the inheritance. Looks like we’re stuck together for a year."

She lifts an eyebrow playfully, stirring the pot slowly. "Stuck, huh? Well, I suppose there are worse things."

I chuckle despite myself, drawn by her infectious optimism. "Maybe."

She pours the creamy fudge mixture into a baking dish, spreading it smoothly with a spatula. "Want to lick the spoon?"

My eyes widen slightly, mind racing to places that have nothing to do with chocolate. "What?"

"The spoon," she repeats, holding it out teasingly. "You know, taste test?"

Heat crawls up my neck, but I manage a gruff nod, standing to cross the room.

Her eyes follow me, amusement dancing in their depths.

Taking the spoon, I taste the sweet, rich chocolate, trying not to think about how close she stands, or the scent of vanilla and something undeniably feminine that clings to her.

"Good?" she asks softly, her gaze holding mine.

"Delicious," I murmur, voice thick. "You're good at this."

She beams proudly, looking pleased with herself. "Glad you like it."

I clear my throat again, stepping back slightly. "So, about this sleeping arrangement…"

Her brows rise curiously. "The couch isn't cutting it, is it?"

"Not exactly," I admit sheepishly. "I was thinking either I need to buy another bed, or…"

"Or we share," she finishes boldly, not even a hint of hesitation in her voice. "We're married, Wes. It's not a big deal."

"You sure?" I press, studying her carefully.

"Positive," she says firmly, her smile warm and inviting. "You're not sleeping well, and it's not fair to either of us."

I let out a relieved breath, tension easing from my shoulders. "Okay, then. We'll share."

She grins triumphantly, turning back to the fudge. "Perfect. Problem solved."

We spend the rest of the afternoon comfortably, Daisy chatting animatedly about recipes, the mountain, and her dreams of a cozy life here.

Her excitement is infectious, and I find myself relaxing more than I thought possible.

She fits into my world so effortlessly, it's as if she’s always been here.

As night falls, we prepare for bed, an undeniable tension crackling between us. Standing at the foot of the bed, Daisy looks up at me with gentle eyes. "I'll take this side, if that's okay."

"Fine by me," I say gruffly, heart pounding unreasonably fast.

We slip beneath the covers, careful to keep our distance at first. But the warmth of her body radiates toward me, her breathing soft and steady. I stare at the ceiling, wide awake, hyper-aware of every tiny shift and sigh.

"Goodnight, Wes," she murmurs sleepily, her voice soft in the darkness.

"Night, Daisy," I whisper back, feeling oddly content despite the turmoil inside me.

Maybe a year isn't so impossible, I think as sleep finally claims me. Maybe, with Daisy by my side, it might even be enjoyable.