Page 192 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

“But they’re everywhere.”

His jaw flexes.

“I know.”

I look at him then—really look.

He’s calm on the outside, but I can see it in his eyes.

That old instinct to vanish.

To retreat up the mountain, lock the gates, disappear into his workshop until the world forgets he exists.

And I can’t blame him.

Because the world doesn’t feel like admiration right now.

It feels like entitlement.

Like people are lining up to take pieces of him.

To demand access.

To turn the man I love into a story they can monetize.

And me?

I’m suddenly not just Clara.

I’m the fiancée.

A plot point.

A photo.

A headline waiting to happen.

My blog inbox is exploding.

My Instagram is full of comments from strangers who have never read a single thing I’ve written but suddenly have strong opinions about my body, my dress, my ring, my right to stand beside him.

Half of them are cruel.

Half of them are creepy.

All of them feel too close.

Greyson leans across the console and presses his forehead to mine.

“You okay, Trouble?” he murmurs.

I swallow hard.

“I’m trying to be,” I whisper.

He kisses me—soft, grounding.

Then he sits back, eyes sharpening with that quiet, lethal focus he gets when he decides something.