Page 86 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

Thatcher’s gaze hardens. “Then you tell her the truth.”

I swallow. “The truth? Shit, I’m not sure?—”

“The truth,” he interrupts, “is that you wanted her. And you got scared. And you tried to shove her out before she could leave you first.”

The words hit so close to home I can’t breathe for a second.

Thatcher steps closer, lowering his voice.

“You don’t get to decide where she belongs, Greyson. You only get to decide whether you’re brave enough to ask her to stay.”

My pulse pounds in my throat.

I look back toward the Lunchroom door, toward the warmth and the noise and the woman sitting in there with her hurt and her fire.

My palms sweat inside my pockets.

Thatcher claps a heavy hand on my shoulder—one firm squeeze.

“Go,” he says. “Before she really does decide you’re not worth the trouble.”

And for the first time in a week, I move—not to hide.

To fight for something I actually want.

Chapter 16

Clara

A day passes.

Then two.

I keep telling myself I don’t care.

I keep telling myself I’m busy.

I keep telling myself I’m not watching the window like a lovesick idiot waiting for a man who made it very clear—very clear—he didn’t want me.

But when I got here this morning, his truck was out there.

I know it’s his because it’s the only one in the lot that doesn’t have a McCrae logo painted on the side.

Everything else looks like it belongs to a hardworking, well-organized family business.

His truck looks more like it belongs to a man who fights the world.

Every time the door opens, my stomach jumps.

Every time it closes, and it’s not him, I feel ridiculous for hoping.

I’ve been coming in daily to help Willow with prep work.

Not because I’m trying to earn a place here—okay, maybe a little—but because she’s pregnant and exhausted and morning sickness has been chewing her up even now that she’s hit the second trimester.

And honestly?

I’m happy to do it.