Page 193 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

“Listen to me, I’ve been hiding for a long time,” he says. “But I’m not hiding from this.”

I blink.

“You’re not?”

His mouth curves, but there’s steel under it.

“No.” He squeezes my hand. “I’m choosing you out loud. Remember? That means I handle the noise.”

“But what if?—”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Clara.”

My throat tightens.

“Greyson…”

He brushes his thumb over my knuckles, right over the ring.

“They can push, they can try, they can want my attention all they like,” he says, voice low. “They don’t get it. Not unless I give it. And they sure as hell don’t get to touch you.”

The protectiveness in his voice sends a shiver through me.

Not because it’s possessive in a scary way.

Because it’s devoted.

Anchoring.

Because he’s not saying I own you.

He’s saying I’m with you.

And suddenly, with the chaos pressing in from all sides, that feels like the only thing that matters.

I exhale slowly.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He nods once.

Then he opens his door and gets out first, scanning the road like a man who’s fought bigger predators than paparazzi.

He comes around to my side and opens my door like I’m precious.

Like I’m his.

And even though the world is trying to turn our love into a spectacle?—

The second my hand lands in his?

The intrusion fades.

Just a little.

Enough to breathe.

Enough to step inside our life in Woodhaven and decide, together, what parts of it the world gets to see.