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

Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

DALTON

T he door slamming downstairs jars me out of my dazed eye lock with Camille, and I push up onto my elbow, my head still spinning from what we did as much as from the mind-bending orgasm and the fact that she came on my hand.

She snags the towel and scrambles back off the bed, wiping the evidence of what just happened on it before she tosses it onto my still-prone body.

Her hands shake as she nervously shoves them through her already tied-back hair, then she slips out the door, closing it behind her without a glance back at me.

Shit.

Pops and Davey—they’re back.

And at the literal most inopportune time possible.

I let out a shuttered breath, trying to slow my racing heart as I wipe the cooling cum from my stomach.

She ran…

Before I even had a chance to talk to her, to discuss what the hell just went down.

I’m not sure what to make of that, but I force myself to try to climb off the bed, anticipating the agony that will rack my body so soon after being incapacitated like I was earlier today.

Only a dull ache radiates across my back as I climb to my feet, and I manage to tug on a clean pair of jeans far easier than I ever have when my body has given out.

Camille is a miracle worker.

Not only did she manage to diagnose and treat Pops, but she’s already helped me in more ways than I can even put into words. Most of which have nothing to do with the way she just touched me—though I certainly can’t say I could ever regret it.

Fuck.

Did that really just happen?

I scrub my hands over my face and give myself a moment to try to process how quickly things changed with Camille. It’s been four months since I first stared down the barrel of her shotgun, but the shift seems to have happened in almost the blink of an eye.

Of course, it wasn’t really that fast.

We’ve grown closer and closer over the time we’ve spent together, but I never allowed myself the luxury of hoping or believing it might become more.

Not after she lost Dave.

Not when she’s carrying his child.

Today changes things…

There isn’t any way I can let her walk away and pretend that didn’t just happen. I won’t allow her to shut down or drown in whatever she’s feeling right now. We definitely need to talk about it. But not when Pops and Davey are around.

I snag a T-shirt and open the bedroom door.

Davey’s excited voice carries up the stairs, and I slowly make my way down to find all three of them in the living room.

Camille squats in front of her son as he excitedly tells her about the successful fishing trip in jumbled sentences so fast that I barely catch more than a few words.

A single small trout on a string hangs from his little fist, and he lifts it proudly, proving their “success” and explaining his bubbling excitement.

Pops glances up at my descent, brows raised. “You’re up…”

I understand his confusion. The other very few times I’ve allowed him to see me like I was earlier, I didn’t move for the rest of the day and barely did anything the next few except what was absolutely necessary around the homestead that he couldn’t accomplish.

“Yeah…”

I don’t intend to offer any other information about how this miracle happened.

The bath.

The massage.

The very personal release of all that tension…

His eyes dart between Camille and me, and she quickly looks away, refocusing on Davey with a smile to avoid the knowing scrutiny of the old man who reads things all too well.

I’m sure he has a million questions about what happened between the time he left me practically collapsing upstairs and now, and given the pink rising in Camille’s cheeks, he probably already has a guess.

But one thing Pops does have is some common sense and tact.

He knows better than to confront me about it in front of Camille and Davey.

“I’m glad to see you up and around.” His eyes scan over me. “I expected you’d be down for a while.”

“I’m okay.”

Instead of the relief I expect to see crossing his face, his jaw tightens, and he inclines his head toward the kitchen with the clear intent of getting me away from prying ears.

I follow him in there, tugging on the shirt as I go. “What’s going on?”

He glances over my shoulder to ensure Camille and Davey are occupied before he leans closer. “We weren’t alone at the lake.”

All that tension that just got released in the most delicious way immediately returns to rest between my shoulders. “What do you mean?”

It’s squarely on our property.

Private property that’s well-marked as such.

No one should have been anywhere near the lake, and everyone in James Creek knows that. They also understand that all they need to do is ask and we would give them permission to fish or swim there anytime they wanted, which immediately tells me more than Pops has so far.

“Strangers?”

He nods. “Definitely not locals. They were already there when we arrived and seemed surprised to see us.”

They probably thought no one would be out there this late in the day, which is a pretty good assumption, since the fish are usually biting early in the morning or at dusk, not at the height of the afternoon.

“What were they doing?”

“Looked like they were taking some sort of samples from the water.”

“Shit.” I shove a hand through my hair, clutching the ends of the strands as I start to pace. “Do you think they’re connected to that Gallo guy?”

Pops leans back against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Probably.”

That’s it?

Someone threatens the mountain.

Invades the land.

And he acts like he isn’t worried in the least.

“You still haven’t told me this brilliant plan to ensure they don’t come after the mountain. It’s been months since Gallo cornered me. If you’re working on something, I should know, Pops.”

He scowls at me and drums his fingers on the counter behind him. “We surprised them, and they headed back off into the woods. There was no way I was going to catch them on foot. Even you probably couldn’t have.”

And he dodged my question again.

After our conversation that day on the porch, I thought Pops would open up more about what he’s been up to and why he seems so confident that we don’t need to worry about any threats.

Yet, the old man has remained suspiciously silent on that super-important topic. He has avoided my questions over and over. And while I’d love to rail at him right now about that, there are more urgent issues to address.

He scrubs a palm across his stubbled cheek. “There’s no way they hiked up here from town.”

I nod my agreement. “It’s too far. I’m going to go out and see what I can find. Maybe they left something behind.”

He reaches out and grabs my arm before I can move away. “Dalton, you can’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

Pops shoves off the counter, invading my personal space and lowering his voice. “Because when I left here, you could barely walk, and you were in fucking agony . Not to mention, we don’t know who they are, what they want, or why they might be up here.”

“You want them roaming around the land? What’s stopping them from coming over here and showing up unannounced with less-than-pure intentions? I’m okay, and I’m going .”

“Wait until tomorrow.”

I grit my jaw.

“They’re long gone by now, Dalton. Anything that’s there tonight will be there tomorrow.”

He has a point.

It isn’t supposed to rain tonight, so any prints or other evidence of their presence should remain intact until I can get there at sunrise.

“Fine, but I’m going to radio the sheriff.”

Pops bobs his head in agreement. “We need to, but I don’t want to scare Camille.”

I glance back at her as she takes the strung fish from Davey and holds it up, admiring it. “Agreed. Let’s head to the office as calmly as possible.”

We step back into the living room.

I do my best to look casual, relaxed, and if I don’t, hopefully, Camille thinks it’s because of what just happened upstairs and not something else.

She lifts the fish. “I’m not sure this is enough for dinner, but…”

Pops chuckles and ruffles Davey’s hair. “Maybe an appetizer. Dalton and I need to take care of something in the office quickly. Do you know how to clean it?”

Camille scoffs, rolling her eyes at him. “Dave was quite an accomplished fisherman. I’m an expert .”

For the first time since I met her, Camille said Dave’s name and discussed him without the immediate pinch of pain crossing her face.

Progress.

Even if after what happened upstairs might set us spiraling backward—or God knows where else—if it in any way has made her grief easier to handle, then I am not one to question it.

Her gaze meets mine for a split second as I walk past them and follow Pops into his office, but I can’t get a read on her. I shut the door behind me before I’m tempted to stay and try to get her to talk.

Pops eyes me as he settles into his chair behind the desk. “Something I should know?”

“About what?”

He nods toward the closed door. “You and Camille.”

I run my hand through my hair and sigh. “Nothing to tell.”

“Uh-huh.”

He doesn’t sound at all convinced but reaches out and snags the radio, calling the sheriff on the dedicated channel without giving me the third degree.

Though I know it’s coming—eventually.

I listen intently as he gives a more detailed rundown of what he saw, growing more and more uneasy with the whole situation the more he talks.

Sheriff Wilson releases a long sigh after taking a second to consider the information. “I haven’t noticed anybody unusual near town today, but I’ll tell you what. I’ll go out now and do a quick patrol to see if anything stands out or anyone who shouldn’t be around pops up.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Pops leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Let us know what you find…if you find anything.”

“I will.”

I don’t dare try to sit in the chair with the way my body still feels, so I stand behind it and grasp the back, watching Pops set the receiver down. “I’ll go out tomorrow and see what I can track down. Hopefully, the sheriff comes up with something, but in the meantime, we stay vigilant.”

He nods. “What you said earlier…I don’t want you to worry. I’m not sure if what happened today has anything to do with Gallo, but that situation isn’t anything you need to spend any of your energy on.”

“There you go, shutting me down again without ever actually telling me anything.” I tighten my grip on the leather under my palms. “You can’t keep me in the dark forever, Pops.”

“I’m not trying to.” He motions absent around him. “You have enough to worry about between running this place, getting Camille’s in shape, and keeping me alive.”

“You could make that part easier, you know.” I point an accusatory finger at him. “Stop giving her shit when she gives you your shots. Stop complaining about the balance exercises and the brain-game shit she has you doing to try to get your body back to where it should be.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair with a humph . “I’m fine. Doing much better.”

“Only because she keeps making you do it. Because she pushes you.”

A single white brow rises over his glasses. “Is that what she does to you, too?”

Shit.

I drop my head, trying hard to wipe out the images of what she just did to me in that bedroom. How she pushed right over that imaginary line we had drawn between us. “She does, Pops, but not the way you’re thinking…”

“I’m pretty sure it’s exactly the way I’m thinking it is, Dalton.”

Damn him.

Slowly lifting my head, I meet his green gaze. “And if it is?”

I raise a brow at him, and the corners of his lips twitch into a little half grin.

“I’d be happy for you and for her, but there are a lot of complications there.”

“No shit.”

She’s not in any position to offer me something that belongs to another man, nor am I in any to offer her something when I don’t have any idea how to give it to her, even if she said yes.

We should have just left things as they were—as friends.

Stuck to the bargain we made to help each other and nothing more.

But instead, I’ve gone and fucked everything up by falling head over sanity for Camille Bower.

* * *

CAMILLE

Tension at the dinner table made me shift restlessly in my seat and push the food around on my plate rather than actually eat much of it. Every second, I could feel Dalton’s eyes on me, watching my every move, the heat of his gaze igniting parts of me I’m too embarrassed to think about even now that I’ve escaped the James homestead and any possibility of him cornering me to discuss what happened.

Did I really do that?

The flutter between my thighs and my still-damp panties confirms I did. Yet I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that I actually shut down all those reasons we shouldn’t have to act on my attraction to him.

It was reckless.

Thoughtless.

Selfish.

It’s only going to end one way—with one or both of us getting hurt.

Even Davey’s continued excited chattering about fishing with Pops as I drive us home hasn’t been enough to quell the worry that I might’ve ruined everything. That I might end up pushing away the only person in my life I’ve actually been able to count on since Dave died.

The only person in my life, really.

“And then we saw the two men—”

I glance up at him in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry, kiddo, I didn’t hear you. What were you talking about?”

He releases a little exacerbated sigh that can only come from a four-year-old who thinks everything is excruciatingly important. “Fishing!”

“You just said something about two men…”

He nods, grinning. “They were at the lake.”

My hands tighten on the wheel, and I try not to let panic seep into my next words as I peek at him again. “Did Pops recognize them?”

Davey shakes his head. “Don’t think so…”

I return my focus to the road, relieved to see how close we are to home. “Did he talk to them?”

“No, they left when we got there.”

Shit.

That certainly isn’t a good sign.

Why would anyone up at the lake leave when Pops arrives?

Unless they shouldn’t have been there…

All that worry about what’s been going on behind the scenes with the lawyer who confronted Dalton in James Creek rushes back.

Are they connected?

Does Dalton know?

The way Pops pulled him into the kitchen when they got back and then disappeared into the office shortly thereafter suddenly makes a lot more sense.

Of course, he knows.

That’s why they were acting so strangely at dinner.

Quiet.

Reserved.

Sending each other quick looks when Dalton wasn’t busy trying to assess me with his heated gaze.

They’re worried.

And now panic starts to creep in, despite my best efforts to keep it at bay.

It’s been months since I overheard that conversation between them, since I learned that someone might try to interfere with their land, with their ownership of the mountain. As far as I know, nothing has happened, but that doesn’t mean it won’t. It doesn’t mean it can’t .

This could be that something.

By the time I pull onto the property and park in front of the cabin, my anxiety has ramped up so much that my hands shake as I try to open my truck door. I manage to get Davey out of his car seat in the back and turn toward the front door when the sound of tires crunching on gravel hits my ears, coming from the winding road that leads to our homestead.

Shit.

I quickly scoop him up, balancing him on my hip as much as I can, ready to run with him into the house to where I have the shotgun stashed if I need to.

Whoever those men were might still be around, might be after whatever they came here for, and God only knows what that could be. Or whether they would come here looking for it.

I back toward the house, keeping my focus on the dark gap between the trees where any vehicles coming will appear.

Bright headlights momentarily blind me as they make the final turn, and I raise one hand to dampen them as I almost reach the porch. A truck stops a few feet behind mine and shuts off, but the lights stay on, impairing my ability to see the driver.

Every muscle in my body tenses, ready to take the few steps up to the porch and dash into the house to snag the shotgun…

The truck door opens and closes, and someone steps into the light. With it backlighting whoever it is, it would make it impossible for anyone to identify the driver.

If I didn’t know that body so well…

A relieved breath rushes from my chest as Dalton rounds the front of the truck fully and moves toward us.

“Jesus, Dalton, you scared the shit out of me.”

He approaches with a furrowed brow. “I didn’t know you left.”

“I didn’t know I had to tell you I was leaving…”

When he and Pops went out to the barn to check on Apollo and some of the other animals, leaving me with Davey to finish cleaning up after dinner, it gave me the perfect exit without having awkwardness between me and the man now staring me down with a strange mix of anger and concern brewing in his gaze.

I tighten my hold on Davey, who waves excitedly at his friend. “What’s wrong, Dalton?”

He clenches his jaw and glances away.

“And don’t tell me nothing.”

Dalton approaches, his gaze softening, and he takes Davey’s hand in his and grins. “Everything’s fine, bud.”

He wasn’t the one who asked the question, but the fact that Dalton is being so careful about what he says in front of him only concerns me more.

“Is it?” I raise a brow at him, trying to keep my voice level. “Because he told me about the men at the lake…”

Dalton winces, confirming exactly what I feared.

They don’t know who it was.

And they’re worried about it, too.

He steps closer and rubs his hand up the side of my exposed arm. A breeze flows over us, but the goosebumps that pebble on my skin could be from either touch. “Look, we don’t know if there’s any reason to be worried yet…”

“Bullshit. If there wasn’t any reason to be worried, you wouldn’t have that look on your face or have chased me up here.”

He leans in, brushing his lips against my ear in an intimate move he never would have attempted yesterday. “Yes, I would have. I wasn’t going to let you run away from what happened today as if it didn’t. I would have come after you, regardless of the reason.”

Shit.

Pulling back slightly, he locks his gaze with mine. “But that conversation can wait. I need to check the house and make sure no one’s been in there or on the property.”

Oh, God…

“You think…they came here ?”

All that calm I experienced only a moment ago upon seeing Dalton arrive vanishes in an instant.

“I don’t know. That’s the problem.” He scans around us, as if he can somehow see through the darkness and dense trees. “We don’t know who they were or why they were up here. Even the sheriff doesn’t have any idea.”

I clutch Davey tighter, thankful he doesn’t seem to understand the tense situation surrounding him.

“Where’s your shotgun?”

Swallowing back dinner as it threatens to rise up my throat, I incline my head toward the house. “On top of the bookcase to the right of the door. Shells are behind the first row of books.”

His hand glides across my arm again. “Follow me up to the porch. I’m going to go in and clear the house. Stay in the doorjamb until I tell you it’s safe to come in. If you hear anything suspicious—”

I suck in a sharp breath before he even says the words. “I get back in the truck and go to your place.”

He nods, then lifts his hand to cup my cheek. “It’ll be okay.”

Will it?

I want to believe him when he says that, want to believe the words are true, but it’s hard to when I can see that hint of panic in his gaze, too. The concern there matches my own. The very real possibility that somebody could have come onto the property while we were gone and done something…or worse, be lurking to do something more.

All I can do is put my faith in Dalton as I follow him up the steps and onto the porch. He turns the handle of the door we never lock—which I will start doing after this—and slowly eases it open to utter darkness.

We both stand still and listen, but all I can hear is the sound of my own heartbeat and blood rushing in my ears.

Dalton turns back to me and motions for us to stay there, and I nod as he reaches up onto the top of the bookcase, grabs the gun, and then slides the books over to get to the shells.

He loads it quickly, then steps deeper into the house.

Davey clings to me, giggling, and I press my finger over my mouth to tell him to be quiet, pretending it’s a game. He presses his lips closed again and slaps his hand over his mouth, and I force a smile he’s too young to know is fake.

Dalton disappears into the blackness, and I hold my breath.

The cabin isn’t big.

It shouldn’t take him long to check everywhere, but each second that ticks by when he’s gone feels like an hour.

The darkness that usually doesn’t bother me up here somehow feels threatening tonight.

Each sound makes me flinch, tightening my hold on Davey.

A light finally flips on in the living room, and Dalton stands there with a gun at his side, no longer at the ready. “The house is clear. Go into the back with him. I have to check the rest of the property for any signs that someone was here. Lock the door behind me and don’t open it unless you’re sure it’s me coming back.”

“Dalton…”

He approaches and takes my cheek in his palm again, running his calloused thumb across it in a way that sends a little shiver of pure warmth through me. “I promise I’ll be okay.”

Only hours ago, he was barely able to stand, in so much pain that I almost felt it. And now, who knows what he might face out there, what might wait for him?

Tears burn my eyes, and he presses a kiss to my temple before he steps around us through the open door and out into the inky blackness of night. He motions for us to go, and I close the door behind him, throw the lock, and rush back to the bedroom with Davey.

Please, God, let him be okay…

I haven’t prayed in so long. I haven’t even thought to.

After Dave died, I wasn’t even sure there was a God anymore, yet here I am, begging Him to protect the man who spent the last few months protecting us and is still out there doing it.

No matter what it might cost him.