Page 6 of The Mountain Man's Curvy Bride

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.

6

Daisy

The morning sun peeks through the cabin windows, painting soft golden patterns across the quilt as I stretch lazily, waking up to the delicious scent of freshly brewed coffee drifting through the open bedroom door. It's been days since Wes and I started sharing the bed, and while we're careful to keep to our own sides, I won't deny I've become increasingly aware of his comforting presence beside me each night.

I slip out of bed, wrapping myself in a cozy robe before padding into the kitchen. Wes stands by the stove, his broad shoulders and strong back making my heart flutter with a warmth that's rapidly becoming familiar.

"Good morning," I greet him cheerfully, inhaling the aroma deeply. "Coffee smells amazing."

He glances over his shoulder, lips quirking slightly into what I've come to recognize as his version of a smile. "Morning. Sleep okay?"

"Wonderfully," I reply, stepping up beside him and reaching for a cup. "The bed-sharing idea was genius."

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