Page 14 of Resisting the Lumberjack

"Can I stop you?"

"Probably not." He turns toward me on the hay bale. Knee almost touching mine. Firelight making his eyes deep and serious in a way the grin usually hides. "Everyone I've ever known has looked at me and seen the kid. The smiling one. The easy one. The lightweight. My whole life, Selene, people have patted me on the head and sent me for coffee. And you looked at me on Tuesday and saw the exact same thing. Too young. Too easy. Too much fun to take seriously."

Quiet voice. Steady. No self-pity, no anger. Just truth spoken by a man who's lived with it long enough that it doesn't sting anymore. It just aches. Low and constant, like the shoulder that took the hit.

"I have dropped more board feet of timber this season than any hand in the history of this ranch. Built that stage over there with my own hands. Cedar I selected, felled, milled, and sanded myself. I've pulled calves at three in the morning in blowing snow. Mended fence in a blizzard because the cattle would've broken through and scattered across the valley. Held this place together when the work got bigger than the crew and Gabe needed somebody who could carry it." His jaw sets. Not hard. Certain. "I am not a kid. I am not easy. And what I feel for you is not a phase."

The fire crackles. Wind pushes through the pines. Somewhere in the dark, Julian laughs at something Hunter's showing him, and Gwen's voice rises warm in response.

"I know you're scared. I know somebody taught you that wanting things is dangerous. That joy comes with a price and the safest thing is to not feel anything at all. But I'm not him. Whoever he was. I'm not him. And I'm not going anywhere."

My body decides before my brain finishes processing the request. Hands on his jaw, rough with stubble, warm from the fire. His mouth pulled to mine. The second our lips meet, one thing becomes immediately, viscerally obvious: boring was never what I wanted. Just the only thing I thought I was allowed to have.

He kisses me back like he's been waiting his whole life for this exact second. One hand cradles the back of my head, fingers sliding into my hair. The other wraps around my waist and pulls me in. Not rough. Not tentative. Certain. Placing me where he thinks I belong and letting me decide if he's right.

Apple cider and woodsmoke. Slow, deep, thorough. A man who takes his time with everything that matters. My whole body softens into his, tension I've been carrying for months releasing in a rush that leaves me dizzy.

When we break apart, his forehead against mine. Breath ragged. Hand still in my hair.

"You kissed me," he whispers.

"Don't make it weird."

Low laugh vibrating through his chest and into mine. "It's been weird since the sandwich, Selene."

My eyes close. His heartbeat under my palm where my hand landed on his chest again. Same spot. Always the same spot. Right over the center of everything.

The bonfire burns. The pines sway. Somewhere on the other side of the clearing, Anna catches my eye and raises her cider mug, and the look on her face says, I know. Welcome home.

Chapter Seven

Kidd

She kissed me.

Hay bale by a bonfire in a pumpkin field with the whole October sky overhead, she kissed me first. Her hands on my face. Her mouth on mine. And I kissed her back with everything I've been holding for four weeks of sandwiches and counter conversations and falling so hard and so fast that the impact hasn't even landed yet.

Now I'm driving her home because she said take me home in a voice that had nothing to do with directions and everything to do with permission.

One hand on the wheel. One hand on her thigh. Her fingers covering mine. Her thumb tracing a slow circle on my knuckles that's making it very difficult to keep this truck between the lines.

"Jake."

"Yeah."

"Take me home."

Not a question. Her voice has dropped an octave. Gone soft and serious and certain in a way I've never heard from her. Fingers curling around mine. Turned toward me in the passenger seat with eyes dark and decided.

My foot gets heavier on the gas.

Her cottage at the end of the gravel lane. Engine killed. Silence expanding between us like something with a pulse. Porch light on, everything else dark. Pines swaying overhead. My heart deep and steady. Not racing. Just ready. Like my whole body's been waiting for this moment and knows exactly what to do with it.

She looks at me across the cab. Porch light on her face. High cheekbones, dark eyes, that mouth that called me out over a turkey club and just took my breath by the bonfire.

"Haven't done this in a long time," she says quietly.

"How long?"