Sloane squeezes my hand. “She sounds amazing. I’d love to meet her properly.”
“You will,” I promise, pulling her closer. “She already likes you. Called this morning to invite us for dinner tomorrow night when you were in the bathroom. Said she’s making pot roast.”
We stand there for a long time, just looking out over the land. I feel her leaning into me, her warmth seeping through my jacket, and something deep inside me settles even further.
“What about your family?” I ask, voice low. “You haven’t said much about them.”
She sighs softly. “Not much to tell. My parents divorced when I was twelve. Dad moved to California for work, and we barely talk. Mom remarried and now lives in Florida. We call on holidays, but it’s just polite. Surface level. I’ve been on my own for a long time.”
I turn her to face me, cupping her cheek with my big hand. “You’re not on your own anymore. You’ve got my mom and me. She’s already planning to adopt you.”
Sloane’s eyes shimmer with emotion. She rises onto her toes and kisses me, slow and sweet at first, then deeper. I kiss her back, pouring everything I feel into it, the joy, the protectiveness, the growing need to keep her safe and happy.
When we break apart, I rest my forehead against hers. “Come on. Let me show you the mill.”
We ride down to the lumber mill. I park the ATV and take her hand as we walk through the yard. The whine of saws fills the air, but I keep her close, explaining how the logs move through the process — debarking, milling, drying, grading. She asks smart questions, her marketing brain already turning, and I find myself smiling at how naturally she fits here.
By the time we head back to the cabin, the sun is high and warm. We’re both dusty and wind-blown, but the easy rhythm between us feels even stronger.
Back at the cabin, we shower together. The water is hot, the steam thick. I wash her hair with slow, careful strokes, then run soapy hands over every curve, memorizing her body. She does the same to me, her small hands exploring my chest, my arms, my cock until I’m hard and aching again.
We don’t make it out of the shower. I lift her against the tiled wall, her legs wrapping around my waist, and slide into her in one deep thrust. She moans my name, nails digging into my shoulders as I fuck her slow and deep, water cascading over us.
“That’s it,” I growl against her ear. “Take your husband’s cock. Feel how deep I am inside you, wife.”
She whimpers, hips rocking to meet every thrust. “Feels so good.”
I don’t. I fuck her against the wall until she comes hard around me, crying out my name. I follow right after, burying myself deep and filling her with a low groan.
We dry each other off lazily, stealing kisses, then collapse onto the couch in front of the fireplace. Sloane curls against my side, her head on my chest, one leg draped over mine.
“Tell me more about your family,” she says softly. “I want to know everything.”
I stroke her hair and talk about the time my dad taught me to drive the logging truck when I was fourteen, about how my mom still bakes my dad’s favorite pie every year on his birthday, even though he’s gone. Sloane listens intently, asking gentle questions, sharing little pieces of her own life in return.
The more we talk, the more I realize how much I want quiet mornings, shared showers, afternoons on the land, nights where I fall asleep with my wife in my arms.
As I hold Sloane close, listening to her soft laughter, I know I will do whatever it takes to keep her here.
Chapter Seven
Sloane
Town gossip spreads fast as we walk hand-in-hand through Pine Peak. Every person we pass offers a smile, a wave, or an outright congratulations. Forrest’s big hand envelops mine completely, warm and steady. I keep stealing glances at him, this giant of a man who moves through his hometown with such easy confidence and genuine kindness that my chest feels too full.
“Well, if it isn’t the newlyweds!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together. “Forrest Kane, you went and got yourself hitched faster than a summer storm rolls in. And you, younglady, Sloane, right? Come here and let me get a good look at you.”
I laugh as she bustles around the counter and pulls me into a surprisingly strong hug. Earl shakes Forrest’s hand with a firm grip before turning to me with a twinkling smile.
“Betty’s been telling everyone who’ll listen that our favorite lumberjack finally found his match,” Earl says, giving me a wink. “Heard you two caused quite the stir at the courthouse last night.”
Forrest rubs the back of his neck, but his grin stays wide. “Might have played a small part. But mostly it was this one right here lighting up my whole night.”
He pulls me closer, his arm sliding around my waist. The casual possessiveness sends a warm shiver through me. Betty insists on gifting us a jar of her famous peach preserves and a fresh loaf of bread. Earl adds a bag of locally roasted coffee beans. Their kindness feels genuine and welcoming.
We leave the store still laughing, the gossip following us down the street. Pine Peak seems delighted by our whirlwind story, and that collective warmth chips away at the last stubborn edges of my morning panic.
Halfway down the block, Rosie spots us from the doorway of Peak Tavern. She jogs over with two to-go cups in her hands.
