Billionaire Lumberjack’s Bargain (Lumberjacks in Love #5)

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

CAMILLE

P ulling onto the James homestead, my stomach knots violently, and I will the churning bile to stay down. I already had to delay leaving to come here by an hour due to the morning sickness that seems intent on making waking up an awful experience, and it wouldn’t make a very good first impression with Dalton’s grandfather if I puked all over him or his cabin.

I glance into the back at Davey bouncing in his car seat, clapping his hands excitedly as he takes in their two-story cabin and the land surrounding it. “Are you excited, Bub?”

He nods.

“Remember what I told you. We have to be on our best behavior while we’re here. Dalton’s grandfather is older, and I don’t know how he’ll react to having you running around wild in their house, okay?”

Davey bobs his head again. “Okay, Mama.”

Hopefully, I brought enough things to occupy him while we’re here.

I glance at the bag on the passenger seat filled with a few toys and snacks.

No matter how good he normally is, his energy needs to be channeled. And I can’t help but worry about how an unwell old man will react to having a rambunctious little one invading his personal space while I try to pry into his medical situation.

I pull up near the steps leading to the porch, throw the truck into park, and turn off the engine. Almost immediately, the cabin door swings open, and Dalton appears with a broad smile that makes those gold flecks in his eyes sparkle in the early morning light.

That relief I’ve felt over the last two days since he appeared as our savior floods back through me, releasing the tension I felt the entire drive here.

He actually looks happy to see us as he crosses the small porch and heads down two steps to where we’re parked. Before I can even move to do it, Dalton opens the door for me, the muscles in his bare arms flexing as he leans against it casually in what appears to be his favorite apparel—another unbuttoned, cut-off plaid shirt. “You made it.”

My lips pull into a smile I actually feel for the first time in months at the welcome reception. I nod, trying to avert my gaze from all the hard, exposed flesh that’s impossible not to see. “We did. Sorry we’re a little later than I had planned. How’s your grandfather this morning?”

His body goes rigid, his jaw locking as he glances up at the home that’s probably stood here for over a hundred years, given his family’s history with the area. Maybe longer. “Better than he has been…”

The pain in his expression is all too familiar.

It’s the same look I saw on the faces of so many families waiting anxiously for updates on my patients over the years when I was working in the ER. It’s the kind of anguish we were trying to get away from when we moved up here by separating ourselves from the disease and violence and all-around ugliness of the world, but I should have known it would follow us. There is no escaping the things life can do to you, whether you’re in the city or up on a mountain.

I slide out of the truck, only a sliver of space between us now, and I rest my hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I’ll do what I can. I promise.”

Dalton gives me a tight smile, then steps back, giving me room to get out. He opens the rear door and reaches in for Davey. “Hey, buddy.” After unbuckling him, he easily lifts him and settles him on his hip. “You want to meet my grandpa?”

Davey enthusiastically bobs his dark head, the morning sun glinting off the amber undertones the same way it does mine.

I give Dalton a wary look. “Are you sure your grandfather is going to be okay with him?”

Dalton offers a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I told him you were coming by because you needed a little social interaction after being alone for so long. It’s the only excuse I could think of for why you’d be here today. If he’s not okay with this little guy being around, Davey can help me on the property today while you deal with Pops. It’ll be all right.”

That isn’t the most comforting statement.

Edison James is well known for his isolation on the mountain, and I’m about to bring a tiny bull into his proverbial china shop.

I close my door, grab my bag from the passenger seat, and follow them up the steps.

Dalton pushes open the door, ushering me in before he closes the door and sets Davey on his feet on beautiful hand-hewn oak floors. “Hey, Pops?”

His voice carries across the lofted living room.

“Wow…” I scan the place, my eyes trying to take in everything at once, which is nearly impossible given the size of the cabin.

A two-story fireplace occupies the center of the main wall of the living room, towering up beside a second-floor landing that must house the bedrooms. The kitchen lies just beyond the stone hearth through a large opening that allows me to see partially in, and two other doors stand closed on either side of the large room.

The door on the left opens, and an old man appears, with hair as white as the snow that will be falling in a few short months, eyebrows to match. They rise over a pair of reading glasses, and he takes an unsteady step forward, grabbing the doorjamb to keep himself upright. “Who is this?”

Dalton approaches him while Davey clings to my leg, peering around at yet another stranger who has popped into his life so unexpectedly. “Pops, remember I told you this morning that Camille and her son Davey were going to come over for a bit today.”

He narrows his wise gaze on us, and I immediately squirm under his perusal.

Davey apparently doesn’t have the same discomfort with him as he steps out and waves and smiles. “Hi.”

Edison’s gaze lowers to him, but instead of an irritated scowl I expect to come, his lips curl into a bright smile, and he squats slowly, a motion that shows how unsteady he really is. “Well, hello there, little man. Come here so I can have a look at you.”

I toss Dalton a questioning look, but he just gives me a half grin. Like this is exactly what he expected to happen, despite what he said outside.

Davey rushes over to Pops and stares at him with wide eyes.

“How old are you, son?”

“Four…and a half .”

The added detail makes me hide a laugh.

Pops grins and pats him on the head with a shaky, weathered hand. “I bet you’re causing a lot of trouble for your mama, aren’t you?” He glances over at me with a smirk as he pushes upright, gripping the jamb again to get to his feet. Once he’s steady, he motions for us to come in farther. “I was just about to make some coffee.”

Dalton starts to follow him toward the kitchen. “I already did that, Pops.”

“Oh”—Edison stops and looks over at his grandson—“I guess you did, didn’t you?”

“And you had a cup.”

“Oh…” His brow furrows deeply. “Well, I guess I’ll have another one, then. Would you like one, Camille?”

I nod and move to join him as I mentally catalog the symptoms I’m observing. “Sure.”

Unsteady on his feet, just like Dalton said.

Clear memory issues, even about something that just happened this morning.

Davey trails Pops into the kitchen, and Dalton pauses and grabs my elbow, stopping me from following them. A little shock trickles through my arm at the contact, and his warm, rough palm encircles me carefully, easing me away from the opening more.

“That unsteadiness…” He presses his lips together firmly, his worry making lines crinkle around his soft eyes. “The man was always sure-footed and did just as much on this property as I did until a few months ago, but lately…”

The way he draws in a long breath makes my heart ache for him again. He’s spent months watching his grandfather decline, feeling like he can’t do anything about it, and now, he’s terrified of what I might actually find.

I wait for his gaze to meet mine so he can see how determined I am. “I know how worried you are, and I promise, I’ll do everything I can to figure this out.”

He nods, then glances into the kitchen, where Pops is showing something to Davey near the counter. “Try to do it delicately. He isn’t going to want to answer any medical questions and doesn’t like people prying.”

That isn’t anything new.

Most of my elderly patients didn’t want to be in the hospital, and many were reluctant to share what was going on with them openly. They take a special touch—delicate but also firm .

“I can handle your grandfather. Don’t worry.”

The corner of his lips curls, lifting some of the darkness clouding his face. “I know you can. Are you okay with me going out on the property? I won’t go too far. You’ll be able to call for me, and I’ll hear you if you need something.”

I peek into the kitchen again and find Pops helping Davey onto a chair at the table. “He seems okay with him now.”

Dalton grins, but it falls away quickly, as if he just realized something that took any of the initial joy from the moment. “That’s the age I was when my parents died. He probably thinks it’s me.”

Any humor or positivity I was feeling toward unraveling this mystery fades, too. “You think he’s that far gone?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

The pain in his voice matches the same I felt for months.

I lost Dave, but he’s been slowly losing the sole parent figure he really ever had. Apparently, the only family he has left.

“I’ll take care of him. I’ll call for you if I need something.”

He nods and releases my arm, my skin instantly pebbling with goosebumps at the loss of contact. “Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I think some of my old toys are still in the spare bedroom upstairs, last door on the left, if Davey wants to go exploring to see if there’s anything fun.”

“I appreciate that.”

Dalton stalks to the door, opens it, and turns back to me. “Camille…”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for doing this.” Another tight smile pulls at his lips. “I realize it’s asking a lot.”

It’s almost like he’s apologizing for needing my help, which is absurd, considering what he’s done for us over the last two days.

I shake my head. “It isn’t, not with what you’re doing for me.”

Another true smile appears, despite the heaviness that’s settled over him. “I’m glad we could help each other.”

“Me, too.”

I just hope I’m able to figure out what’s wrong with Pops and can do whatever he needs to get better.

Dalton slips out the door, closing it behind him, and I set down my bag and head into the kitchen.

Two mugs of coffee sit waiting on the table, and Pops slides another one in front of Davey.

“Whoa, what’s that?”

He looks up at me, brows raised. “Hot chocolate, is that okay?”

I release a relieved breath. “Of course. That’s very sweet of you.”

A grin pulls at his lined mouth, and he takes his seat next to Davey. I take mine on the other side, sticking my finger into the cocoa to test the temperature, but it’s perfect.

The old man knew exactly what to do.

I watch him as he takes a sip of his coffee, gnarled hands wrapped around the mug shaking slightly. My gaze immediately drifts to the slightly blue tint to his nails that wasn’t visible from across the living room.

No…

Could it really be that simple?

Hope floods my chest in a tidal wave that threatens to bring tears, but I try to force my voice to stay level. “Mr. James, can I ask you a question?”

He swallows and sets down his mug. “Please, call me Pops. Everyone does.”

I smile and nod, taking a sip of my own coffee even though I don’t drink it anymore since finding out I was pregnant again. “Do you have any feeling of pins and needles in your hands and feet at all?”

His astute gaze narrows on me. “Why do you ask?”

Be delicate…

“I noticed you were a little unsteady coming out of the other room. Sometimes that happens when you have that feeling in your feet.”

Pops rubs his stubbled jaw, looking up at the wood ceiling beams. “Now that you mention it, I do have that feeling sometimes.” He releases a little chuckle. “Don’t tell Dalton, but I’m getting old.”

I laugh and take another sip of the coffee I don’t intend to finish. “I won’t. It’ll be our little secret.”

Davey grins with chocolate across his face. “Can I be part of the secret?”

That draws both of our attention his way, and I exchange a knowing look with Pops.

A four-year-old is the last person to trust with anything you want kept confidential.

Pops chuckles low. “Guess I shouldn’t have said that in front of the kid…” He grins over his mug before he takes another sip. “Why did Dalton bring you down here, anyway? To help clean up the place?”

I glance around at the immaculate kitchen and out to the clean living room I saw when I came in. “Doesn’t seem like you need any help in that regard.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Dalton always fusses about taking care of everything.”

“From what I hear, you’re busy with the businesses.”

Pops nods. “That does take up most of my time.”

For the briefest moment, I almost consider mentioning our inability to pay the rent. It’s been months since he came to collect, and even if he had shown up, I wouldn’t have had it to give him. Dave always kept things running so smoothly on the homestead, including taking in horses to train—which he was so damn good at—to ensure we had an income. With him gone, I don’t have any way to replace that or ensure I can stay on their land.

But what Dalton said about his grandfather getting upset whenever he mentions the slipping memory leads me to bite my tongue instead.

“We stopped by because Davey needed to see someplace new. We’ve been up at our property alone for a while…”

Pops grins and ruffles Davey’s hair as he happily sips his cocoa. “Well, I’m sure we can find some things to entertain him today.”

As much as I may have wanted to do this all on my own, knowing Dalton is here, offering anything we need, and seeing Pops interact with Davey has renewed that bloom of hope.

There might actually be a chance I can stay in the only place Davey has ever known as home, and I might actually be able to help Pops and Dalton the way they are us.

* * *

DALTON

By the time I return to the cabin as the sun goes down, even walking up the two treads to the porch sends so much pain shooting through my back and legs that I have to grit my teeth and force myself to take the final few steps to reach the front door.

Shit .

I drop my forehead against the worn wood panel and take a long, deep inhale, trying to push the agony to that space in the back of my mind I usually manage to place it and lock it away there.

But this is different.

It can’t so easily be brushed aside the way most of my daily aches and pains can.

It isn’t something I could keep working through, even though I wanted to do at least another hour at the Bower property cataloging all the projects I need to tackle before winter.

I pushed too hard.

Did too much.

I shouldn’t have gone there this afternoon.

Now, I’m paying the price for overexerting myself and pushing myself past the limits I never want to admit are there.

I should have waited for tomorrow, after a good night’s sleep and the rest I know my body needs, but the state of Camille’s place has left me more panicked than I will admit to her.

There’s so much to do in so little time, especially when I’m splitting working hours between here and there.

Pops isn’t much help these days, and I have to ensure we’re ready as much as Camille is, so I didn’t want to waste any daylight. But now my body is protesting, and so is my stomach, since I only managed to snag a quick sandwich to eat on my drive over there earlier.

It growls as the scent of something meaty and rich reaches me through the closed door. My mouth waters, and I drag my head back and open the heavy wooden slab, worn by years of rain, wind, snow, and use, stepping into a sight that stops me in my tracks.

Pops sits on the floor with Davey, pushing a faded red fire truck that I recognize all too well.

A vise constricts around my ribcage so tightly that it robs me of my breath and ability to speak.

They both look up at me, and Pops smiles and lifts the old toy. “Look what I found.”

I swallow thickly and force myself to move, nudging the door closed behind me until I hear the click securing it.

Davey’s excited blue eyes widen even more. “Fire truck!”

“Yep, that was mine…”

The memories it brings only aggravate the pain still coursing through me, making all the broken things flare angrily.

Pops bringing it to the hospital for me…

Trying to distract me from the agony and all the surgeries that seemed never-ending…

And for some reason, seeing the little boy on the floor with it takes me back to those awful days with shocking clarity—as if it happened yesterday instead of almost two decades ago. Or maybe it’s the throbbing, searing torture that’s engulfing me now that’s doing strange things to my mind and making me relive the worst moment of my life.

After the last few days, getting the cow taken care of, exploring the property with Camille yesterday and examining the damage to the infrastructure, and today, handling everything on our homestead and then spending extra hours up at hers, I’ve reached my breaking point.

If I don’t get horizontal soon, I won’t be able to stand much longer.

I bend down to unlace my boots, biting back a groan as the movement sends another fiery shock up my spine. My hands shake, but I manage to untie them, pull them off, and set them next to the door.

When I return to fully standing with far more effort than it should take, Pops watches me with narrowed eyes, seeing far too much. “You okay?”

Far from it.

But the last thing I need to do is give Pops a reason to worry about me.

It’s why I’ve done my best to keep this from happening up until now. I’ve kept the pain in control. Moderated myself. Ensuring I wasn’t doing too much too fast.

That plan went out the window the moment my eyes met Camille’s terrified ones.

There isn’t time for carefully controlled progress. At this point, it’s nothing more than a mad dash to secure two properties before the snow finally falls. And up here, that could be as early as October, if we’re unlucky.

I grit my teeth, refusing to let Pops see how uncomfortable I am. “Yep, I’m good.”

Camille appears from the kitchen, her dark brow raised as she wipes her hands on the apron over her jeans and gray T-shirt. “Oh, you’re back.”

“I am.”

It comes out a little clipped, and I instantly regret the tone I let filter into my words. I’m not used to having to interact with anyone other than Pops, and even when I do go into town, I’ve never felt like this . Where my legs shake and it takes every ounce of strength I possess to stay upright.

Either she doesn’t notice, or she chooses to ignore it, motioning over her shoulder. “I just finished dinner, if you’re hungry.”

“I’m definitely that.”

And for the first time since I’ve met the woman, the smile that appears on her perfect pink lips lights her up entirely, her blue eyes shimmering like Caribbean waters, her high cheekbones and heart-shaped face framed by several strands of dark amber hair that have fallen away from the messy bun she tied at the back of her head.

My heart stutters, and I swallow again, trying to force the air I draw in through my suddenly dry throat. “Let me just go…uh, wash up.”

Because if I don’t splash some cold water onto my face and other parts of my body, I might start thinking about horizontal things with the very beautiful widow who absolutely should not be entering my mind.

Ever.

She motions for Davey and Pops. “Let’s go, boys. Time to eat.”

Pops grabs the edge of the couch to pull himself to his feet, and Davey rushes past his mother with the old man lumbering after him.

Rather than following them into the kitchen, Camille pauses in the archway and turns back to me. “You and I need to talk privately after dinner.”

Instantly, my stomach plummets, my appetite and that frighteningly strong guttural reaction to this woman gone in an instant, replaced by a foreboding sense of dread. “What’s wrong?”

“After dinner.”

I shake my head and close the distance between us, not even caring that I probably reek like sweat and everything I’ve been doing all day out in the hot sun. “Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

She purses her lips and glances over her shoulder to ensure Pops and Davey are occupied at the table before she motions me away from the kitchen toward the closed door of his office. “I’m ninety percent sure I know what’s going on.”

A mixture of relief and trepidation flows through me, replacing the physical pain I’ve been nearly drowning in.

“Is it…” I can’t even think the word, but I manage to force it out. “Is it Alzheimer’s?”

Her gaze softens, and she shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

The rush of air that pours from my lungs surprises even me, and I scrub my hand through my sweaty hair. “Thank God.”

“I actually think it’s something that could be relatively easy to correct.”

“What do you mean?”

She checks the kitchen again. “I’ve been watching him all day, asking questions when I can in ways that hopefully won’t upset him.”

“That can be difficult.”

Her answering tight smile demonstrates she has witnessed Pops’ stubborn streak herself today. “He seems like he can be a difficult man at times, but he’s so good with Davey. He’s been incredible with him, showing him all around the cabin, playing games with him. He even took him out to meet all your animals after you went to our place.” She does another peek at them. “And I managed to get enough information from him to know that it’s not just his memory and the unsteadiness. He’s dizzy at times, and he says he gets tingling in his hands and feet.”

“And that means something?”

She nods, those thick, dark strands drifting across her soft cheeks with the movement. “It does, especially coupled with his fingernails.”

“His nails?”

“They have a bluish tint. You haven’t noticed?”

I shake my head, wracking my brain to try to remember seeing anything like that. “No. I likely assumed they were just dirty. He still works in the garden and greenhouse a lot, since that doesn’t require a lot of physical exertion on his part.”

“Well, they’re pretty classic signs of B12 deficiency.”

B12?

All the homeschooling Pops spent so much time and energy on while I was growing up doesn’t seem to mean much because I don’t have a clue what she’s talking about.

“What’s that?”

“A vitamin we all need to keep our brains functioning properly.” She twists her hands in the apron. “It’s actually a very common deficiency, especially in the elderly.”

“Is it curable?”

She nods, shifting restlessly like she’s worried Pops will stick his head out at anytime and catch us talking about him. “He can take oral B12 supplements, but that will take a lot longer to really see any effect, and some people have trouble absorbing them properly. If I can get B12 shots, we should see improvement relatively quickly and know if I’m right or not.”

“Jesus…”

I rest my shoulder against the wall, and some of the weight I’ve been carrying for months finally eases from my shoulders as hopefulness washes over me. “Like how quickly?”

“Within a couple of days, he should show some sort of improvement, and if it isn’t that…”—she gives me a sympathetic look—“then we’ll deal with it. We’ll figure it out. But I think I’m right. It’s like reading a medical textbook. I only saw it a few times when I worked in the ER, and it was years ago, but I’m pretty confident.” Her gaze searches mine. “You don’t look happy.”

I force a smile and scrub my dirty hands over my face. “I’m relieved. I’m just angry at myself that I didn’t figure it out sooner or force him to go to town.”

“He doesn’t seem like the type of man who will let anyone force him to do anything.”

She has no idea.

I snort. “That’s exactly the problem. He hasn’t left this mountain in almost twenty years.”

“Ever?”

Shaking my head, I shift slightly to take the weight off my right leg that always seems to aggravate me the most. “He manages all the properties in town from here, and if something needs to be brought back and forth, he sends me or has somebody from town bring it to him.”

“Geez.” She brushes the loose strands of her hair behind her ears. “I had no idea since he came up and talked to Dave every month.”

Except the last few…

“Could this have caused any permanent damage? It’s been months of him like this…”

She bristles slightly, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. “My understanding is that some people who only have mild deficiencies usually don’t have any lingering effects, but for someone who has had a severe deficiency, recovery can take a long time. Months or years. And some people have permanent issues with balance and memory.”

“Shit…”

Guilt carves a new space, mingling with the pain threatening to drop me to my knees.

Camille watches me carefully. “Can you get B12 shots?”

I nod slowly, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’ll radio into town to the clinic and talk to Doc. He can probably get them for us, and I’ll pick them up as soon as they’re ready.”

Pops sticks his head out from the kitchen and narrows his eyes on us. “What are you two doing out here? I thought we were eating.”

Hopefully, he didn’t catch any of that.

Forcing a smile, I incline my head toward her. “I was just updating Camille on some of the things over at her property.”

“Oh”—his eyes widen slightly—“well, food’s probably getting cold. Get your ass in here.”

Camille fights a smirk as he steps back into the kitchen. “I hate to say it, but I kind of like the old man.”

“Yeah, me too.”

And he’s all I have left.

“Thank you again for all your help.”

She offers a soft smile. “You’re the one helping me.”

I push off the wall and grit my teeth at the sharp jolt across my lower back. My right leg almost gives out under me, but Camille’s hand whips out against my side and steadies me.

Blue eyes search mine. “Are you all right?”

Managing a tight smile, I lock my knees, keeping myself upright. “Yeah, just overworked it a little today.”

She narrows her gaze on me, and I can see the wheels churning in her head as she conducts her medical analysis. “I don’t want you burning yourself out trying to help us. Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe Davey and I should just go—”

An iciness slides across my chest, freezing my lungs. “Leave the property?”

Camille chews on her lower lip again, peeking back at her son. “I’ve considered it.”

“Where would you go?”

Her eyes dart up to meet mine. “I don’t have any family left, and Dave was never close with his. There are a few friends from before we got married, but I haven’t stayed in touch with them since we moved up here. I would have to renew my nurse’s license, try to find somewhere for us to stay…”

I can see the panic starting to well inside of her as she shifts nervously, and without even thinking about it, I reach up and slide my hands to her shoulders, squeezing gently. “Camille, you don’t have to go anywhere. Do you want to stay on the property?”

Tears shimmer in her eyes. “Yes. It’s the only place I’ve ever really felt at home.”

I sympathize with that so deeply that it might as well be me saying those words. “The mountain has that pull, doesn’t it?”

“I want Davey to grow up there, the way Dave and I intended.” She finally pulls her hand away from my side and rests it across her stomach. “And I want that for this baby.”

My gaze drops to her hand. “When are you due?”

She swallows thickly. “End of October.”

While it’s not the dead of winter, it isn’t the ideal time to be giving birth, especially when you’re living alone in a place like this with another child to take care of.

But I’m not about to get into that with her now.

That’s a problem to address months down the road.

“I know you can’t pay the rent, Camille, and I understand it seems bleak right now, but I’m not going to abandon you and Davey. Pops won’t, either. We’ll make it work.”

She gives me a nod, swiping away at the tears that trickle from the corners of her eyes with shaky hands. “Okay. Just please don’t hurt yourself trying to help us.”

“Trust me. The damage was done long before you came around.”