Chapter 4
4
Brock
"Should I, uh, carry you through the door, bridal style?" I ask, half jokingly, half awkwardly, when we reach the front door of my cabin.
"Why not? Give me the full wedding day experience." Schapelle grins, but when she realizes what she said, a pink hue dusts her cheeks. "Well, maybe not the full experience."
I nod. "Right."
Of course not, because this isn't a real marriage, it's simply a month-long arrangement.
I wasn't holding out much hope she'd even show up this morning. I wouldn't have blamed her if she hadn't. Marrying someone you don't know is…well, it's pretty darn crazy.
But the moment I saw her today, dressed in a lace mermaid dress with a halter top, my heart went into overdrive. Throughout the whole ceremony and on the drive back to my place, I kept saying to myself, over and over again, This is just a month-long arrangement.
I hear the words, I just can't seem to find a way to make them sink in. And while I may not be able to give her the full wedding day experience, one thing is certain: I am seriously indebted to her. So I can give her this .
An adorable squeak escapes her lips as I slip one arm under her legs and the other around her back, lifting her easily. She laughs softly, her hands resting on my shoulders as I carry her across the threshold. I can't help but smile, loving the warmth of her body pressing against mine.
Once inside, I carefully set her down.
She takes a few steps forward, her gaze sweeping from left to right. "Wow. This is not what I expected when you said you lived in a small cabin."
She walks around slowly, taking it all in. The cabin hadn't had much upkeep since its original build, probably in the 1960s, so I installed large glass panels to take advantage of the elevated mountain views and created an open-concept living area with a large fireplace, a modern, minimalist kitchen, and a built-in dining nook. Sliding doors lead out to a massive outdoor deck. The only thing left is finishing off the pergola.
I mentioned at the engagement party that she was welcome to stay with me for the month if she wanted. I got the sense that while she loved her parents, she was finding it a bit hard to concentrate on her work while living with them.
Again, I wouldn't have been surprised if she declined my offer, but she said she'd think about it. After our short ceremony this morning, she mentioned she'd like to see the place, if the offer still stood.
Oh, it stands all right.
But now that she's here, in my space, I'm suddenly overwhelmed. I never considered the very obvious implication that if she lives with me, she has to, well, live with me .
Me, who doesn't say a whole lot because I'm not much of a talker. Me, who lives a simple, quiet life where working on my cabin and tending to my veggies is about as exciting as it gets. Me, who's become an emotional ice block and isolated himself from the world and everyone in it.
She moves toward the hearth. "What's this?"
I cross the room, joining her by the mantle. "It's called Safe and Sound , by an artist named Harry Jackson," I tell her, looking at the bronze statue of a Native American figure that's caught her eye.
"You're an art collector?"
My throat tightens, and I avert my gaze. "Belonged to a friend," I mumble.
"Is there a story? With the artwork, not the friend," she adds a little too quickly.
I stare at the figure. Yeah, there's a story there, all right. But I focus on the piece, and not the person I inherited it from. "It's about safety and security, symbolizing the desire to guard loved ones or preserve a sense of stability," I say, reciting what I remember from the research I did when it was given to me. "Like the bond between people in a relationship, or two best friends, or a parent looking after their child, you know?"
I wince. Was that the wrong thing to say? If it was, she doesn't show it, shifting a little closer to me.
My fingers itch to put my arm around her, but I don't.
Being around Schapelle muddles my instincts, like a radar getting interference. I haven't talked this much in years, haven't felt so comfortable around someone so quickly ever, and haven't even thought about inviting someone to stay with me.
"It's really beautiful." She skims her fingers over the bronze. "I like it."
"Thanks." I blow out a breath, and when I glance toward the kitchen, I remember something. I take a small box out of the refrigerator. "I got you this."
"What is it?"
Schapelle is on the other side of the white marble kitchen counter, so I slide it over to her side. "A small token of my appreciation."
She lifts the box and opens it, her eyes lighting up. "It's a mini wedding cake."
"I just wanted there to be something…traditional about today."
She stares at the mini-cake for a few seconds then lifts those gorgeous eyes to me, her lips curving into a grin. "So you were confident I'd show up?"
"Not at all," I say. "If anything, I was expecting you not to. I'm a complete stranger who doesn't even have a phone."
"Which I actually love."
"You do?"
"Yeah. It's so '90s not to have a cell phone."
"Totally the vibe I was going for."
She laughs, and the sound wafts through the entire house. "Thank you. This is really sweet. I like that even though you weren't sure I'd come, you still bought a cake. Means you're an optimist."
Pressure builds in my chest. "Don't know about that."
She takes the mini-cake out of the box then rounds the counter to stand next to me. "Speaking of traditions…"
"What are you doing?"
She swipes her finger through the icing and smears it down my left cheek. "This."
The tightness inside me dissipates. "Oh." I keep my eyes locked on hers as I run my finger through the icing. "It's like that, is it?" She gives a big, smiling nod, like she knows exactly what's coming, and isn't about to back down. I like that about her. She's confident, fearless. "Well, then…" I glide my icing-tipped finger delicately down her right cheek. "Happy wedding day, wife ."
Her blue eyes sparkle. It's the last thing I see before her soft lips land on mine. She lets out a breathy moan as I wrap my other hand around her lower back and bring her body to mine. Sparks flare through my entire body, breathing new life into the shell of a man I've become.
The kiss ends. I cup the soft, round outline of her cheek in my palm, and she leans into the touch. Looking up, she cradles her hand over mine. A palpable energy hums between us, cutting through the noise and static, leaving my radar signal crystal clear.
For the first time in a long time, I know exactly what I want.
"So, does this mean you'll move in?" I ask, my voice husky.
"I was on the fence…" She grins. "But the cake tipped me over the edge. So, yeah. Let's do this, husband ."