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

Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

DALTON

E very snap of a twig, each rustle of a leaf in the chilly nighttime breeze, draws my attention, tensing every muscle in my body as I make my way around the property, searching for any signs that someone was here who shouldn’t have been.

Which is anyone.

This mountain has always been a haven—somewhere free of threats beyond what’s always lived in these trees. The people of James Creek respect it and our place, and we’ve never had to even consider a breach of that trust before.

The fact that it’s brought that kind of fear to Camille only strengthens my grip on the weapon.

I pause next to the paddock and pop into the barn for a minute to check on the animals, but everything is quiet and appears untouched—whoever was at the lake doesn’t seem to have come to the property.

Or if they did, they are good at covering their tracks.

At least in the dark.

Tomorrow may show something different in the light of a new day, but at least for tonight, I know Camille is safe with me here.

The satisfaction that washes through me with that knowledge rivals that of earlier today brought on by Camille’s touch. I want to do the same for her; that’s why I made her that promise—that everything will be okay.

It may have been stupid to say those words when I don’t even fully understand the situation myself, but seeing that terror return to her eyes that I thought I had vanquished was enough for me to tell her anything to ensure it went away.

Even if it wasn’t true…

Something in my gut tells me today’s intrusion on the mountain wasn’t an innocent tourist sightseeing at our pristine lake. Camille clearly knows that, too, or she wouldn’t have been so shaken when I arrived.

The relief that flooded her gaze when she realized it was me who pulled in behind her was enough to give me a flicker of hope that what happened today between us won’t ruin everything.

It’s that warmth that mixes with the pure heat of my anger toward the assholes who brought that fear back to her.

By the time I reach the cabin and knock at the front door, I’m struggling to rein in my rage over the entire situation, and I don’t even know how long I’ve been gone securing the property.

An hour?

Two?

It feels like forever, though I know it hasn’t been that long given the fact that my back hasn’t returned to screeching in protest.

I just don’t like to be away from her.

Any distance between us feels too great.

That’s a dangerous feeling to have when she isn’t ready for it.

I should have given her space to process what happened between us today, but as soon as Pops said they had left, nothing was going to keep me from coming after them.

Because I needed to see her.

To know they were safe.

To know I didn’t fuck up everything between us by allowing her to touch me. Allowing myself to touch her like that.

My body thrums with the memory as I climb the porch steps, my hands itching to take her into my arms and hold her again. To do all the things I didn’t , that I couldn’t before.

If she’ll let me…

Camille’s face appears in the window beside the door where she once stood to eavesdrop on Pops and me about likely the very situation I’m dealing with tonight. When she sees me, her shoulders sag, and she unlocks the door and yanks it open.

She throws herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck, her belly pressing into mine tightly, like she can’t get close enough. “Oh, God, I was so worried.”

I cling to her with my free arm, the shotgun still clasped at my side in my other hand, and bury my face in the thick, dark amber hair she’s let down from the typically messy bun she keeps it in. “I’m okay. Nothing seems amiss on the property. I don’t think anyone came up here, but I’ll check again in the morning before I head to the lake.”

She tugs back, her brows raised, searching my face like she doesn’t quite understand. “In the morning?”

“You really think I’m going to let you stay up here alone tonight?”

“But your grandfather…”

Shifting my hand from around her, I brush the hair back from her face. “Pops is the one who taught me how to fire a gun, and he has better aim than anyone I know. He also has a shoot-first, ask-questions-later mentality. He’ll be fine. You and Davey won’t be. I don’t want to scare him by trying to take him back to my place, and I wouldn’t sleep, knowing you were up here alone without any sort of protection.”

She scowls at me, the twist of her lips insanely beautiful, despite her best efforts to toss me the strongest reproachful look in her arsenal. “I protected myself pretty well against you.”

The memory of the way she leveled this very gun on me the first time I came up here makes me grin at her. “That you did, but I don’t want you to have to do that again, ever. I’m staying here tonight.”

Her body tenses, and she backs away from me, retreating into the living room fully as her gaze darts toward the two bedrooms.

I lean the gun carefully against the wall beside the door as I close and lock it, securing us inside. When I turn back to her, Camille has that plump bottom lip pulled between her teeth again.

But I don’t think this concern has anything to do with the potential there may be someone out in the miles of wilderness surrounding us.

This has to do with something much closer.

Me.

“I’ll sleep on the couch so I can be near the door.”

She releases her lip with a little sharp breath, her shoulders relaxing.

A pang hits my chest that feels an awful lot like disappointment, even though I never intended to put her in a situation where she would ever be uncomfortable.

That was never what this was about.

I just wanted to help Davey and this incredibly brave and stunningly beautiful woman in any way I could.

Pinpointing when things changed would be impossible because it wasn’t one single moment in time. It was the passage of it. Every hour, each day we spent together working and getting to know one another, I feel a little more in love with the woman I thought I could never have.

How could I when her heart belongs to someone else?

Her focus has to be on herself, her baby, and her son.

And protecting all three of them is my only concern. The old man can fend for himself tonight…

“Where’s Davey?”

“I got him to fall asleep.” She rubs at her side, like the baby is kicking or it’s bothering her. “I think Pops wore him out.”

“Well, the walk to the lake isn’t an easy one.”

“No, it isn’t.” She shakes her head. “Dave brought me down there a few times.”

The ghost of a smile that crosses her face, thinking about the memory, renews that spark of hope that she will make it through all of this.

Her grief over losing Dave will last a lifetime.

It may never fade.

But lately, it seems as though she’s been taking my advice to look for the moments in each day that are pure joy.

That’s certainly what I experienced earlier today.

After one of the most agonizing moments I can remember, this woman somehow morphed it into one of the most beautiful.

Almost as if she can read my thoughts or somehow see what I’m thinking about and the way my skin heats remembering her hands on me, she blushes and retreats a few steps, then glances back at the couch. “You can’t sleep out here.”

“Why not?”

Her throat works on a slow swallow. “Your back…”

I scowl at her, opening my mouth to explain that I will be doing just that, despite any objections she may make.

“Don’t give me that look, Dalton. I saw you earlier today, remember? You can’t argue that sleeping on a couch isn’t going to mess up your back even more.”

Probably.

The fact is, I never know how I’m going to feel when I wake in the morning, regardless of where I end up crashing, so this argument is irrelevant.

“I’ve slept in far worse places than on a couch, Camille. I’ve spent many nights in the barn because one of the animals went into labor and I didn’t want to leave it or out on the property to watch over some of the livestock when there was a bear in the area. I’m no stranger to sleeping places other than a bed.”

One of her dark brows rises slowly. “And was your back as bad those times?”

She’s got me there, and the look she gives me tells me she knows it, too.

I told her far too much today.

Revealed all those little secret cracks in my armor I’ve done such a good job of hiding for so long.

“That’s irrelevant.”

“It’s far from irrelevant to me, Dalton.”

The unwavering way she cares about me and worries, even if she has no reason to, is what ultimately draws me across the room to her, even when I should be giving her space.

I take her face between my palms. “You have no idea how much I appreciate your concern and the help you gave me earlier. I wouldn’t be up and walking around like this right now if it weren’t for what you did. But if I am in your bed, I am not going to be concentrating on protecting you from anything that might be happening outside. All I’m going to be thinking about is how it feels to have you beside me.”

She shudders against me, her eyes drifting closed as a little sigh slips from her lips so close to mine.

And God, I want to kiss her.

I want to know what she tastes like and feel the press of her lips to mine.

I want to swallow those little sighs she makes into my mouth and breathe her into my lungs and hold her there forever.

I want Camille like I’ve never wanted anything in my life before.

And I don’t want to fuck it up with her.

I don’t want to do anything that’ll send her running the way she did from my room earlier. If she shuts down and shuts me out, I won’t ever get us back to where we were when she wrapped her hand over mine and directed it between her legs.

I’ll never get to experience the pure bliss of seeing her come or the pride of knowing I did that for her.

It may have only happened once, but I’m already addicted to it.

But if I kiss her now, if I give in to this pull that draws me to her so powerfully, I will send her fleeing from me.

She’s not ready.

She may never be.

Don’t blow it, Dalton.

I’ve probably already said too much, revealed far more about how I feel and what I want from her than I ever should have. But I want even more than what I admitted.

I want it all.

This woman.

This life with her and her children.

A family and a future on the mountain.

My cock aches between us, desperate to do whatever it takes to make that happen, but I pull away before she can feel the hard length pressed against her. “I’m sleeping on the couch, Camille. That’s final.”

Her eyes flutter open to meet mine, and she stares up at me from under thick, dark lashes.

The look in her warm blue eyes says she wants to argue her point further, but after everything that’s happened today, I watch the fight drain out of them and her.

She leans into my palm on her cheek for a split second before she slips from my hold and slowly turns and walks away down the short hallway toward her room across from Davey’s.

I follow after her.

Not because I have any intention of going in, but I need one last look at her before she goes to bed.

To know she’s really okay.

Her door is already closed by the time I reach it.

Which is probably for the best.

Despite my pure intentions, only God knows what I might have done if it had been open.

Maybe something stupid—again.

But Davey’s door is cracked so Camille can hear him if he gets up during the night, and I stick my head in to check on him.

He lies sprawled on his back, arms wide, with his favorite teddy bear resting across one. The soft glow of the nightlight plugged into the wall to his left illuminates his soft features, making him look even more angelic in his sleep than he already does.

My still-booted feet draw me across the worn floorboards and over to him, and I lower myself to the side of the bed and brush the thick, dark hair back from his forehead.

“You take such good care of your mom…” He’s always so aware of her, helping in any way he can, trying to be a mini version of the woman he’s watched around the homestead since his dad died. “I wish I could do that, too.”

It feels like I’m failing, though.

If I were really taking care of her, none of this would have happened.

There wouldn’t be this looming threat.

She’d be safe and secure without me having to sleep armed on her couch.

I release a heavy sigh, and Davey stirs slightly. He shifts more onto his side, turning toward me, as if my voice is drawing him closer. I pull my hand away, not wanting to wake him when I also want to lift him into my arms and hold him tightly.

It’s strange to care so much about someone else, to be willing to do anything to protect them.

I never thought about being a father, about what it might be like to feel this way about a child.

He isn’t even mine.

Yet, the thought that something could have happened to him today while he was at the lake with Pops, or up here when they came home without me, is enough to make acid crawl up the back of my throat.

Somehow, since he first stared up at me all those months ago, I’ve fallen in love not only with Camille but with her son, too. Come to think of him as mine to protect and to take care of.

I climb off the bed and turn toward the door to leave, but Camille stands there, watching me, her temple dropped against the jamb.

How much did she hear?

Enough to send her running?

The question worries me enough to slow my steps as I approach her. When I finally get to her, she leans into me, resting her cheek on my shoulder and feathering her lips over my neck. “Thank you for loving him.”

She pushes away and walks back to her room, closing the door behind her before I have any chance to react.

I never said that out loud.

Never dared utter those words.

Yet she knew.

And it makes me wonder what else she knows without me ever admitting it.

* * *

CAMILLE

My own strangled scream rips me from the nightmare, and I bolt upright in bed. Ragged breaths rasp through my chest, and my heart slams so violently it feels like it might crack my ribs. The tank top I sleep in clings to my sweat-dampened skin that somehow still has goosebumps raised across it.

The bedroom door flies open, and Dalton stands in the frame, illuminated by the faint moonlight filtering in from the single window on the exterior wall.

His eyes widen, scanning over me carefully. “What’s wrong?”

I shudder and drop my face into my hands, trying to catch my breath and wishing I could melt away and disappear rather than have to admit the embarrassment of waking him like this. “Just a dream…”

He releases an audible relieved sigh; then the bed dips beside me. His arm wraps around my shoulder and tugs me against him, and I let my head fall to his shoulder, absorbing all the warmth and strength he’s brought instantly when I needed it.

Another shudder rolls through me, and he tightens his hold, reminding me of what I saw and heard earlier. “Did I wake Davey?”

“No.” He feathers his lips against my temple. “I just checked on him before I opened your door, and he’s still asleep.”

Thank God.

I don’t need him being any more panicked than I already made him today. Pretending it was all a game worked to a degree, but he’s a smart kid and can sense when things are off. He must have asked where Dalton went and when he would be back a dozen times before I finally got him to settle enough to fall asleep.

He loves the man holding me as much as Dalton does him.

And that only complicates this so much more.

Dalton rubs his hand gently up and down my back, and each time he reaches my bare shoulder blades, a little shiver runs through me. Every simple touch only makes me want to find a way to crawl closer, to allow him to take on the weight of all the ways I failed that I can’t escape—even when I sleep.

His warm breath flutters my loose hair, and he pulls a strand from where it’s matted against my cheek and tucks it behind my ear. “What was your dream about?”

Bits and pieces of it flash through my head.

Vivid.

Bright.

Crystal clear.

As if it really happened and wasn’t just some creation of my psyche.

I shudder and snuggle closer to him, welcoming the comfort of his solid arms and body supporting me. His hand settles over mine on top of my stomach and moves with me as I rub at the spot the baby loves to use to get my attention.

The longer he’s here, the more he talks, the more likely she is to respond.

It’s been like that since very early in this pregnancy.

This little girl loves the sound of Dalton’s voice as much as I do, and if he weren’t here right now, I might still be down the black hole that nightmare had me trapped in.

I hadn’t even realized how long it’s been since I’ve had the dreams about that day until this very moment.

They’ve slowly vanished over the last couple of months, as things started to fall into place, as I finally started to have hope that everything might actually work out for Davey and me and this baby. When I started to see beyond my own pain to the possibility of a life after it.

But the dream came back with a vengeance tonight.

And it was different this time.

In the throes of the nightmare itself, I didn’t realize it, but now that my brain is coming out of that fog, those details start to emerge more clearly.

I inhale deeply, taking Dalton’s woodsy, masculine scent into my lungs as I cling to him. “It was the day Dave died…”

The day everything changed.

Dalton’s body stiffens, his hand stilling for a second against my skin before he resumes the soothing movement. “Do you dream about it a lot?”

I haven’t talked about what happened with him at all.

Not with anyone after that day.

Talking about it makes it feel too raw.

Too real.

But I can’t avoid it forever.

Not now that Dalton and I have grown so close and the line between friendship and more seems to have blurred into nothing today.

“I used to. Haven’t in a while.” I pull my head back and look up at him. “But it was different this time.”

“Different how?”

Though the images flicker in my head, I can’t make sense of what they mean, of why the dream changed.

The explanation burns in my throat, but I force it out, needing to talk about what it could mean. “This time, when I got there, when I found him, he wasn’t alone.” Another little shiver hits me. “There was someone else in the barn who ran off as I came in…”

Dalton’s brows draw low as he narrows his eyes on me. “What do you mean?”

“That day…he was alone in the barn stall with one of the horses—Wilder. And that’s the way the dream has always come before, exactly as it happened. But tonight, it was like, I don’t know…” I shake my head, trying to make any sense of it. “Like maybe someone else was there and hit him? Like maybe it wasn’t the horse. But…it’s just a dream, right?”

I know what happened the day I lost him.

It would be impossible to forget any of those minute details that are so seared into my brain.

I remember exactly what time he walked out of the house to head to the barn. I recall the moment I realized he was late coming back in for lunch. And I could never wipe away the image of what I found when I went looking for him…

So, the dream is just that .

A dream.

It has to be.

Dalton swallows thickly, and his eyes dart to the window before they come back to me. He doesn’t say anything, but his silence speaks volumes.

“You don’t think—”

He shakes his head. “I don’t. I mean, is it possible that whoever Pops saw at the lake has been up here before, snooping around?” He shrugs. “Of course. People have been after the land and what’s on it for a lot longer than I’ve even known about it. But would they go so far as to actually attack Dave to try to get you off the property, to try to send a message to us ?” His eyes meet mine. “That would be crazy, right?”

I nod slowly. “It would be.”

“And you said it was the horse…”

“I assumed it was. What else could have caused a head injury like that? There weren’t signs of anyone else or any thing else around.” I squeeze my eyes closed, trying not to picture Dave, but I can’t keep it out. “Wilder has always been just that— wild . It’s one of the reasons I never tried to ride him, and Davey knew to keep his distance in the pasture and barn. Only Dave could ever handle his attitude. And it looked like Dave got kicked .” That bloody image makes me wince. “But I suppose anything blunt striking him could have caused that if he were hit hard enough.”

During my years in the ER, I saw plenty of blunt force trauma head injuries, but it never crossed my mind that it could have been anything else until now.

Wilder is precisely the type of horse who would throw an unexpected fit and injure something.

That’s why I sold him immediately after Dave died.

Dalton tugs me up against him fully, my belly pressing against the side of his solid body, his arm rigid around my back. “I think everything that happened today is just messing with your head, making it spiral to create this crazy alternate situation. It’s your subconscious. Nothing more.”

“Do we really know that?”

How long has Gallo’s client been after the land?

And who is to say what lengths someone might go to in order to get it?

He presses his lips together. “I guess not, but it doesn’t make sense that anyone would come after Dave.” He cradles my face in his hands and brushes the hair back from my cheeks. “They would have come after Pops or me if they really wanted to scare us. And worrying about something that popped up in a dream isn’t going to change what did happen.”

I release a heavy breath.

My heart finally starts to slow.

“You’re right.”

Just having him here, holding me, sitting in the peaceful darkness, knowing he will stop anything that ever threatens us, is enough to start calming me from that sheer terror that gripped me only minutes ago.

He presses his forehead against mine, and I let my eyes drift closed, absorbing all the things this man is offering.

His strength.

His determination.

How insanely protective he is.

All of it washes over me, coating me in a warmth that heats my soul, lifting it from the very dark place I was in when I woke. “Thank you.”

He lifts his head. “For what?”

“For being here.”

“Fuck.” He shakes his head. “Don’t thank me, Camille. Please. It isn’t altruistic. I’m here because…” His lips press together, like he’s fighting the words. “Fuck it. I’m here because I want you, Camille. I have for a fucking long time, far longer than I should have. Far longer than it was appropriate, given everything you’ve been through. And after what happened today…”

My body heats at the mere reference to what I allowed to occur in that bedroom.

“I want it all , Camille. I want you. I want you and me. I want you, me, and Davey together like this . And I know it’s stupid for me to even suggest it. It isn’t fair for me to say this to you, but…”

He doesn’t finish.

He doesn’t actually say the words.

The unasked question just hangs in the air between us.

Do you feel the same way?

It shouldn’t be an easy answer.

Not when things are beyond complicated.

My heart is a mess. My head is, too. My young son, who just lost his father, sleeps right across the hall, and this little girl growing inside me will be coming into the world soon without one.

But I don’t have to think about how to respond because only one word sits on my tongue. Only one answer feels right.

“Yes.”

It comes out on a whispered breath, so quiet that he wouldn’t even be able to hear it if we weren’t pressed so closely together, but it sounds like an explosion going off in my own head. The weight such a simple word carries is like an atom bomb detonating and blowing away everything that stood between us.

I lean forward and drift my lips over his.

Doing the thing he’s so afraid to— pushing .

For so long, I’ve been holding back, preventing myself from feeling the things I do for this man.

And he’s always been there.

Never expecting anything from me.

Never demanding it.

He’s held back, too.

Giving me space and time.

Never pushing for what he wants.

But the time to hold back is gone.

The kiss is soft and sweet, tentative, because I don’t know how he will react to any of this, but he responds to it quickly, groaning and trying to tug me closer, which is impossible with my stomach between us.

His hands shift back to tangle in my hair, and he angles my head, kissing me deeper, devouring me in an eager rush that matches the intensity of the need consuming me.

Being right here, right now, with Dalton James, feels like the only thing that has been right in almost six months.

I’m not about to lose the moment, not going to let it slip away because of fear or anxiety or the guilt that threatens to rear its ugly head if I allowed it even an inch of space in my mind.

Those are tomorrow’s problems.

Tonight, I’m going to savor every single kiss. Every touch. Everything Dalton can give me.