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“I’ll build us a bigger house,” I promise as I stand in front of the bed and start to lay her down. She clings to me and nuzzles into my neck. I love when she does that, and I think she knows it too.
“You don’t have to do that. I won’t take up much space.” Ainsley lifts her head up and smiles before kissing my cheek. I turn my head and capture her lips, kissing her properly until we’re both out of breath.
“I want more space for you to take up, firefly. I want you to take up every inch of my home, my life, my…” Damn, I almost said my heart. It’s true, but I’m already being so intense with my declarations of keeping her forever. “Just, all of me. I want you to fill up every part of me.”
My angel kisses my cheek again, and then yawns. I reluctantly set her down and pull the covers over her, kissing my sweet girl on her forehead after I tuck her in. I turn and look around the room, in search of an extra blanket I can take with me to the couch.
“Aren’t you coming to bed, too?”
“I can sleep out on the couch. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” The words feel like sandpaper on my tongue.
“Brewer. You’ve seen me naked and you offered to build me a house. I think you can sleep in bed with me, don’t you?”
I can’t help but grin at her feistiness. Each new part of her personality she reveals to me only has me falling harder for her. Falling? No. I tripped and landed on my ass right at her feet the moment I saw her.
I strip out of my t-shirt but leave my pants on. I don't miss the hungry look in her eyes as she takes in my bare chest. When she finally looks up at me again, Ainsley licks her lips, making me groan.
She scoots over and pats the space next to her. I don’t waste any time crawling in bed and settling in behind her, spooning my body around her much smaller one. I wrap my arms around my perfect firefly and pull her close, holding her while she drifts off to sleep. For the first time in weeks, I fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.
CHAPTERSIX
AINSLEY
Ican’t remember the last time I woke up naturally. Usually, my mornings start with Penny, my maid, dragging me out of bed and getting me dressed for whatever Mom and Dad have scheduled for the day. Every moment of my life has been planned out for as long as I can remember.
Breakfast is at six every morning, then it’s off to tutoring until lunch. I either have tennis lessons or piano lessons in the afternoon, usually followed by a fancy dinner with Dad’s business partners or a stuffy, boring party. At the end of the day, Penny scrubs off my makeup and peels off whatever awful dress my mom made me wear, and then ushers me into bed so we can start the whole process over again.
Something is different today. Why hasn’t Penny snapped at me to get my butt out of bed yet? I roll over and peek an eye open, expecting to see my fluffy white comforter and pink throw pillows. Instead, I see forest green sheets and a thick wool blanket.
And then it hits me.
I’m home.
My true home. With Brewer. This realization has my body going haywire. My heart races, my stomach flips, and my core clenches in a way I’ve only experienced around my wild mountain man. He told me yesterday the best part about being up here on the mountain is that I can do whatever I want. What if I want to do Brewer?
I can’t help the giggle that falls from my lips. I know I’m blushing profusely as well, but I don’t care. Brewer said he liked it, which is good. I have a feeling he’ll have me blushing all the time.
My beastly yet cuddly Brewer isn't in bed with me, but I'm not worried. I know he's still here. I don't know how, but I feel his presence.
Sitting up, I look around the room for the first time. I didn’t get much of a tour yesterday, and honestly, I wasn’t up for it. Brewer knew that I needed a bath, some food, and sleep.
I don’t know much about cabins or homes or anything like that, but I do know that I love this place. It’s an actual log cabin - not the fake log cabin my parents have at the base of the mountain that we visit once or twice a year. That house is a mansion with a “rustic” exterior. Even then, it’s not that rustic. Having a fountain on the front lawn doesn’t exactly screamroughing it.
But Brewer’s home is beautiful. Authentic. Lived in. I can feel the love and happy memories in each hand-placed beam. I wonder where his family is. He said last night I’m the only one outside of his family who has been here. I get the sense he’s been alone for a while, and that thought has my heart clenching up painfully in my chest. Brewer has so much love to give, and I can’t believe I’m here and he seems to want to give it to me.
I'm pretty sure I never want to leave. Brewer talked about keeping me, and I believe him. I just want to make sure he knows I can pull my own weight around here. Granted, my extremely sheltered life didn't teach me much about the real world or how to take care of myself, but I can cook a damn fine meal if I do say so myself.
Despite my mom's many protests, I hung around the kitchen with our chef, Alonzo, as often as I could. He taught me a thing or two before my mom changed my schedule and made it so I never had free time before meals, thus bringing my culinary education to a close. Mother said it was unbecoming of a woman of my status to worry herself with preparing meals. That's what the staff is for. I scoff at the memory of her ridiculousness. She thinks we're royalty, but we're just rich.
The only person who can sympathize is my bestie, Shay. Her family is just as awful as mine, maybe worse. Her mom has been trying to hand Shay off to the most eligible bachelor ever since she turned sixteen. Even with the awful, traumatic attack last year, her parents won’t ease up on playing matchmaker.
Shay is the one person I’ll miss from my old life.
Frowning, I decide to find a way to reach her. Maybe I can convince her to leave her awful family in Seattle and move out here to Montana with me.
With that thought in mind, I stretch and hop out of bed, noting that I feel a lot better than I did last night. I'm still sore, but on the whole, I feel like a new person in more ways than one.
Making my way to the kitchen, I’m almost giddy with excitement at cooking for my Brewer. I look in the cupboards and small fridge to see what I have to work with. There's a bowl of eggs in the fridge, which is an odd way to store them, but whatever. I grab the eggs and set them on the counter next to a loaf of bread I found. I dig around in the cupboards for some seasonings and find little jars of herbs and spices, each with a hand-written label. I'll have to ask Brewer about that later.
