Page 8 of The Mountain Man’s Curvy Bride (Mountain Man Sanctuary #3)
Daisy
The morning sunlight dances through the cabin windows as I hum happily, tackling my latest mission—cleaning out the back closet.
It probably hasn't been touched in years, judging by the dust and cobwebs I've already uncovered.
I'm armed with a broom, dustpan, and fierce determination, eager to bring order and cleanliness to every corner of our cozy home.
"Daisy, you really don't need to do that," Wes grumbles from the doorway, arms folded across his broad chest, eyebrows knitted into an adorably grouchy expression. He's been trying to deter me from this project since breakfast, but I remain undeterred.
"It's fine, Wes," I say cheerfully, waving away his concerns as I tug open the closet door wider. "This closet needs attention, and I'm just the person for the job."
"It's full of old junk," he mutters, stepping closer as if to physically block my progress. "Nothing interesting in there."
I pause, turning to smile at him sweetly. "Then you won't mind if I get rid of some things, right?"
He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Just—be careful, okay? There's no telling what's hiding in there."
"Yes, sir," I tease gently, turning back to my task. Despite his protests, Wes remains nearby, watching me closely as I dive into the clutter.
Deep down, I know part of my determined busyness stems from the lingering sting of last night.
Offering myself to Wes, only to have him gently reject me, left me feeling foolish.
My cheeks warm even now, thinking about how I must have looked, hopeful and vulnerable.
Yet, I'm determined not to let embarrassment get the best of me.
If Wes isn't ready, that's okay. I'll focus on being useful, making this cabin into a true home.
The silence stretches comfortably between us, broken only by my occasional exclamations of surprise as I uncover old books, dusty knick-knacks, and piles of forgotten clothing.
Every so often, I glance over my shoulder to find Wes's gaze fixed steadily on me.
His eyes follow my every move, making my skin tingle pleasantly.
Though he might not see me as more than a convenient partner in our unusual arrangement, I can't help but feel adored under his watchful attention.
After several hours of dusting, sorting, and rearranging, I step back triumphantly, hands on my hips as I admire my work. "There! All done."
Wes moves closer, peering over my shoulder into the now neat and organized closet. "I barely recognize it," he admits grudgingly. "You've got a knack for this."
"Thank you," I reply warmly, genuinely pleased by his praise. "Now, time for fudge."
"Again?" he asks, raising an eyebrow, though a hint of a smile tugs at his lips.
"Yes, again," I say firmly, brushing past him toward the kitchen. "The town seems to love it, and it's keeping me busy."
He trails after me, leaning against the counter as I gather ingredients, his gaze softening slightly. "You know, Daisy, you don't have to prove anything to anyone here."
I pause, looking up into his dark, sincere eyes. "Maybe not, but it feels good to contribute. To feel like I belong."
"You do belong," he says quietly, his voice earnest. "More than you realize."
My heart skips a beat at his words, hope blossoming anew inside me. Even if he doesn't see me as I wish he would, at least he's starting to accept me into his life. That alone is worth more than anything.
"Thanks, Wes," I whisper softly, feeling a warm flush spread across my cheeks.
We fall into comfortable silence as I work, melting chocolate and stirring ingredients together.
Every now and then, I glance up to catch Wes watching me intently, his expression unreadable yet gentle.
Each time, my pulse quickens, and I find myself wishing desperately that one day soon, he'll truly see me—not just as a companion or convenient partner, but as someone he could genuinely love.
As the fudge sets and the sweet aroma fills the cabin, I turn to find Wes still leaning against the counter, a small, genuine smile on his lips.
"Smells amazing," he murmurs appreciatively.
"Wait until you taste it," I reply playfully, offering him a small piece I've saved.
He steps closer, taking it from my fingers and popping it into his mouth. His eyes close briefly, savoring the taste before opening again, warm and appreciative. "Perfect, as always."
My heart flutters wildly, and for just a moment, standing there in the cozy kitchen with Wes, everything feels right.
Maybe someday soon, he'll feel it too.