Page 59 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

Thatcher exhales. “Sure you’re fine. And yeah, I was bringing her anyway.”

He doesn’t go anywhere without his wife these days. Not since she told him they were expecting a baby this fall.

Can you believe that? Thatcher McCrae is having a baby.

I exhale and click the radio off before he can say anything else.

Then I stand there in the shed with the silence pressing in again, and I realize something that makes my chest go tight and my hands shake slightly.

This is the part I hate.

Not the storm.

Not the bear.

Not even the attention.

This.

The moment after warmth when you choose cold.

I turn back toward the cabin, jaw set.

Because I’m going to wake Clara up.

I’m going to get her dressed.

I’m going to get her off my mountain before she becomes something I start needing.

And if she looks at me with those luminous eyes and asks me to let her stay?

I’m just going to have to say no.

Even if it breaks something in me.

Chapter 10

Clara

Okay, so maybe—maybe—I was expecting something other than a “here’s your hat, don’t let the door hit ya” kind of goodbye this morning.

Because last night?

Last night Greyson was heat and hands and hunger.

He was a storm that didn’t ask permission.

A man who looked at me like I was the answer to a question he’d been trying not to ask.

This morning?

He’s ice.

Not the sexy Lumberjack Artist.

More like Abominable Mountain Man with a moral code and a grudge.

I wake up to sunlight and emptiness on the other side of the bed.