Page 209 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

Lawrence’s mouth curves—not a smile. Not really.

More like satisfaction.

“I can make your ex regret every cent he stole,” he says softly. “I can make sure your son’s future is secure. I can make sure you’re not scrambling while you rebuild your life.”

I stare at him, wine forgotten.

“And what do you get?” I whisper.

His gaze darkens, just a shade.

“You,” he says.

The word hits me like a slap.

Heat. Anger. Shock.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means,” he says, voice roughening, “I’m a man who gets what he wants. And I want you. You’ll be safe, provided for, and under my protection.”

I should be furious.

I should throw my drink in his face.

But I’m sitting here in the aftermath of a wedding where a man looked at a woman like she was his whole world, and I’m so tired—so tired—of being the woman who holds everything together with duct tape and grit.

I swallow hard. “So you’re offering me what? A business deal? A?—”

“A proposal,” he corrects, eyes steady.

My breath catches.

“God,” I mutter. “You’re insane.”

His voice drops lower. “You’d be surprised how often that’s been said to me.”

I stare at him for a long moment, my heart doing something stupid in my chest.

Then I pick up the card.

Turn it between my fingers.

Set it down again.

And meet his eyes like a challenge.

“Let me get this straight,” I say slowly. “You’re telling me you can ruin Mike Stevens, restore my son’s college fund, and keep me from drowning, and all you want is me.”

Lawrence doesn’t blink. “Yes.”

I laugh once. “That’s the most arrogant thing I’ve ever heard.”

“And yet,” he says, calm as sin, “you’re still sitting here.”

My throat tightens.

Because he’s right.