Page 208 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

“Oh, I’ve been watching you a long time, Kelly McCrae,” he says, “And I don’t like bullies or gossips.”

I stare at him.

My sarcasm tries to rise. My defenses try to snap into place.

But the truth is, no one has ever offered me protection like it’s a given.

Like it’s an entitlement I should’ve had all along.

I swallow, jaw tight. “What’s the catch?”

His gaze holds mine, unflinching.

“The catch,” he says, “is that you stop trying to do it all alone. You let someone help.”

I laugh, breathy and bitter. “Someone meaning you.”

“Someone meaning me,” he agrees easily.

That ease is dangerous.

That confidence is dangerous.

Because for one horrible second, my brain supplies an image of what it would feel like to have someone like Leonard J.T. Lawrence on my side.

Not Mike’s parents.

Not lawyers.

Not paperwork.

A man who knows how to build things—and destroy them.

I hate that the thought makes my stomach flip.

I hate that I’m… curious.

I sit back, crossing my arms. “And what exactly do you propose?”

His eyes flick to my mouth. Then back to my eyes.

Slow.

Measuring.

Like he’s reading my limits.

Then he says, calm as if he’s ordering coffee:

“An arrangement.”

I blink. “An arrangement.”

He nods once. “Permanent. Beneficial.”

My pulse is loud in my ears.

“Beneficial how?” I ask, even though my brain is screaming at me to stand up and walk away.