Page 26 of Unwrapped By the Grumpy Mountain Man
"No, I shouldn't," I agree softly. "But here we are."
We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of our reality pressing down on both of us. I know he feels guilty—he should—but guilt doesn't pay the mortgage.
"What about this place while you're gone?" he finally asks.
"I'll still come by on weekends," I promise. "Clean up, stock the fridge, check the mail. Nothing much will change except where I sleep."
"And that you'll be married," he adds dryly.
"Yes, well." I shrug. "Small details."
Dad shakes his head, but I can see the fight draining out of him. He knows as well as I do that we're out of options.
"I'd like you to be there," I say more gently. "At the courthouse on Tuesday."
He looks up, surprise flickering across his face. "Why?"
"Because you're my father," I say simply. "And despite everything, I'd like your support."
Dad studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighs heavily. "What time?"
Relief washes through me. "Eleven. Hudson's arranging everything with the justice of the peace."
He nods once, then pushes himself up from the couch. "I need to get some sleep. Early interview with the folks investigating the station tomorrow."
"Dad," I call as he heads toward his bedroom. "Thank you."
He pauses, back to me. "Your mother would kick my ass if she knew I was letting you do this."
"Mom would understand doing what needs to be done to save what matters," I say quietly. "She always did."
His shoulders tense, then drop. Without another word, he disappears down the hall, the click of his bedroom door echoing in the silent house.
I sink back into the armchair, suddenly exhausted. This is really happening. In three days, I'll be Mrs. Hudson Wilder, stepmother to three girls, living in a house on the mountain with a man I barely know but somehow can't stop thinking about.
I pull out my phone and text Hudson.
Me: It's settled. Tuesday at the courthouse. My dad will be there.
His response comes almost immediately.
Hudson: You sure about this, Goldie?
I smile at the nickname, typing back.
Me: Never been more sure of anything. For your girls. For my house. For us.
There's a longer pause before his reply appears.
Hudson: For us. Tuesday it is.
I press the phone to my chest, heart fluttering despite all my practical reasoning. This is just a business arrangement, I remind myself. A means to an end for both of us.
But as I head upstairs to my bedroom, I can't help wondering if maybe, just maybe, it could become something more. I think of the way Hudson looked at me in his kitchen, the electricity when our hands touched, the heat in his eyes when he said we could "revisit" the physical aspects of our arrangement...
Three days until I become Mrs. Wilder. Three days until I move into that beautiful mountain house with that intense, complicated man and his three daughters.
Three days until everything changes.
