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

Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

DALTON

P ops huffs out an annoyed sigh from his perch on the side of my bed, raising a white brow at me in that condemning way that actually used to bother me as a child but no longer phases me as an adult. “Will you stop pacing? You’re making her nervous.”

I shove my hands through my hair, annoyed with it falling into my eyes. “Don’t tell me to stop pacing when my barn is on fire and she’s in labor two weeks early.”

Camille scowls at me, her annoyance sharpening her gaze to an icy blue. “ She is right here and can speak for herself, you know?”

A grin starts to tug at my lips, despite my rising agitation, but it vanishes the second she winces and presses her hand across her belly.

“Contraction?”

She sucks in a long, slow breath, then opens her eyes and nods.

“Shit…”

The little “discomfort” she felt earlier at the table was a warning sign none of us caught.

Maybe we would have realized it was more than just her being exhausted and sore if Davey’s disappearance and the fire hadn’t happened.

Yet Camille remains annoyingly calm.

I resume my pacing, ignoring Pops’ objection to it and the withering looks Camille keeps sending my way.

Each time I pass the window, I can’t help but look at the still-smoldering remains of the barn that has sat on the property for two generations. It withstood so many storms. Housed countless animals that made this place work . And those flames brought down so fucking quickly.

A blanket of snow several inches thick now covers the ground, helping calm the flames that leaped high into the sky for several hours after we got Camille back into the house and upstairs.

“I still think we should have tried to make it down the mountain to the clinic…”

Pops shakes his head. “You know you never would’ve made it down the road with it like this even if you left right away. It certainly isn’t happening now. Be realistic, Dalton.”

Shit.

He’s probably right.

And based on the most recent weather report I found on the radio, we’re expecting at least half a foot of snow before midnight, which means it’s going to be coming down hard and fast the rest of the night.

I’d much rather have her give birth here than stuck in my truck on the winding, narrow, gravel, slick road down to James Creek.

“Shit, shit, shit…”

I fist my hands and press them against the cold glass, dropping my forehead to it, hoping it might cool my heated skin.

“Dalton…”

Camille’s voice draws me out of my panic spiral and back to the bed.

I lower myself onto the mattress on the opposite side from Pops and pull her hand into mine.

She squeezes it. “I gave birth to Davey up here; I’ll be okay .”

Every time she reminds me of that, it’s meant to ease my fears, but all I can think about are the hundred different complications that could crop up that could put her life or the baby’s at risk. We would have no way to get them help. Even if we trust the sheriff right now, the chopper couldn’t get up here in a storm like this.

We’re completely stranded until the weather improves.

And I have never felt more helpless in my entire life.

I clench my jaw, wanting to argue about all the things I keep obsessing over, but I know it’s pointless.

Camille is strong.

She’s done this before.

If anyone knows the medical risks, it’s her.

And she chose to have Davey up here with only Dave to help her, even with all her knowledge and training.

Trust her…

“Besides, Pops is right.” She rubs her free hand over her stomach. “The baby has dropped, and my contractions are coming fast. Far faster than they did with Davey. That sometimes happens with a second pregnancy. Things move along quicker. We wouldn’t make it to town. We wouldn’t have made it even if we’d left two hours ago when my water broke. I’ve helped deliver dozens of babies in the ER when there wasn’t time to get them to L&D, and Dave and I did it on our own…”

“But I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing”—I point to Pops—“and he sure as shit doesn’t, either.”

Pops gives me a dirty look. “You know how many cows and horses I helped give birth before you were even born, son?”

Camille scowls at him. “Are you comparing me to livestock?”

A laugh bursts from deep in my chest, joined quickly by her own and Pops huffing. The moment of levity releases a bit of tension from the room, but she still clutches my hand tightly as another contraction hits her.

She grits her teeth, and I let her crush my fingers, wishing I could absorb some of the pain she must be in.

Seeing her like this and being unable to do anything to help must be what she felt like standing outside that barn, knowing Davey was inside.

My lungs still burn from all the smoke I inhaled, and even after a quick shower, the smell permeates the air, a lingering reminder of almost losing him.

Camille finally relaxes and opens her eyes to meet mine.

“I’m worried about the baby and you…”

“I know, but thirty-seven weeks is technically full term. The baby is just fine. She wouldn’t be coming if she wasn’t ready to be here. Let’s not worry about something until we have to.”

It shouldn’t be so easy for her to say those words when she’s the one who is going to have this baby, not me.

“We’re really going to do this up here?”

She nods. “It looks like it.”

I squeeze her hand and lower my lips to her temple, breathing her in, letting her warmth seep into me. “Then you better tell us what to do.”

She offers me a half smile when I pull back. “I can certainly do that. Is Davey still occupied?”

I nod and glance through the open door into his bedroom across the hall. “I set him up in his room where he’ll be close enough for us to keep an eye on him, but hopefully, he won’t try too hard to get in here when things get…”

The right word eludes me.

Messy.

Scary.

Utterly terrifying.

“I know he’ll be worried about you once it gets louder.”

Her lips twist. “Not looking forward to that part.”

No matter how tough Camille may be, giving birth isn’t a painless experience. She’s already in so much discomfort with contractions, so I can’t imagine how bad things will be once she starts pushing.

“What can I do to help?”

It doesn’t matter what her answer is—I would do anything for this woman.

She offers me a soft smile and tightens her grip on my hand. “The same thing I did for you.”

A few seconds pass before what she’s saying clicks. “The tub?”

She nods. “Water delivery. It’s how I had Davey, and the warm water helps with the pain of the contractions until it’s time to push.”

“But won’t the baby—”

Her bark of laughter interrupts me before I can even get the full question out. “No, the baby won’t drown. Trust me.”

“I do.” I kiss her gently, then rise to my feet, releasing her hand. “I’ll go draw a bath.”

Pops gives me a sharp nod. “I’ve got her.”

By now, the thick, black smoke pouring from the barn will have drawn everyone’s attention in James Creek. If it weren’t for the snow, half the town would’ve been up here by now. But as it stands, we’re on our own, and that means making use of anything I can find to ensure this delivery goes well for Camille and her daughter.

That means I need to gain control of myself.

My panic isn’t good for her.

And I do my best to slow down my breathing as I head into the bathroom, crank on the tap, and sit on the edge.

Water pours into the cast iron, the rushing sound now filling my ears instead of the roaring crackle of the fire that I can’t seem to get out of my head.

Today was chaos.

The kind that gets people killed.

We should have heeded Sheriff Wilson’s warning, should have anticipated they’d try something like this…

Maybe we were stupid to believe we could remain up here on the mountain, living the way we do, without interference from the outside world forever.

It always manages to find us.

First, it took Mom and Dad.

It almost took Davey today.

And for all we know, Dave could have been an unwitting victim.

I release a heavy sigh as the water starts to fill and reach my hand down to check the temperature.

“What are you doing?” Davey’s soft voice drags my focus to the door as he stands there with his new action figures clutched in his hands.

“I’m drawing a bath for your mom.”

His pale-blue eyes still rimmed with red from his earlier ordeal widen, instantly filling with worry. “Is she okay?”

The frantic responses from Pops and me when she announced her water broke must have terrified him. We swept him and Camille into the house so quickly that I haven’t even had a chance to sit with him and explain what’s happening.

I motion for him to come over, and he steps between my legs as I rest my ass on the edge of the tub.

Running my hands through his thick, dark hair, with the same shimmery shade of amber underneath it that’s in Camille’s, I try to tell him what I would have wanted to hear if I was his age and in this situation.

“She’ll be fine, buddy, and your baby sister will be here before too long. You might hear Mama crying a little because having a baby sometimes doesn’t feel very good, but I promise she’ll be okay. Pops and I will be here with her the whole time, and I know you’ll do everything you can to help.”

He nods vigorously.

“Why don’t you go in and sit with her for a few minutes right now?”

“Okay.”

I kiss his forehead, and he rushes off, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the running water.

Murmured voices float from the bedroom, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. Camille’s laughter cuts through the air, though, and my shoulders sag slightly at the pleasure that simple sound can bring.

We can do this.

She can do this.

After everything she’s been through, this will not be the thing that takes her down.

God, please let her and the baby be okay…

It seems like I’ve been asking an awful lot of Him recently, especially today, but praying for a miracle seems like the only solid plan at the moment.

The water finally fills high enough to cover her once she climbs in. I flip off the tap and step into the hallway when the sound of the radio from downstairs hits my ears.

Of course, people are calling to check on us after seeing the smoke, and chances are, we’re going to need help to get down the mountain once the snow stops, to have both Camille and the baby checked out at the clinic.

Doc already knows what’s happening since he was our first call after her water broke—both because of the impending labor and to determine what we should do to address any smoke inhalation issues Davey and I might suffer.

It could be him checking in…

I pop my head into the bedroom quickly. “Water’s ready.”

Davey sits on the bed next to his mom, holding his hand over her stomach and giggling, apparently as the baby moves.

Camille smiles at him, thankfully in between contractions at the moment.

“I’m going to go make a few radio calls. I’ll be back.”

Her eyes meet mine. “Don’t take too long. I don’t think the baby’s going to wait.”

Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

I’m disgustingly clueless when it comes to human birth, but the confidence in the way she says it assures me that’s the nurse in her talking.

All I can do is trust that and her.

* * *

CAMILLE

Leaning back in the tub, submerged in the warm water Dalton has kept at the perfect temperature for hours as my labor progresses, I watch him pace the small bathroom.

His bare feet barely make any noise as he moves, but the occasional worried sighs that slip from his lips speak volumes—even if he’s barely saying a word.

Laser-focused green eyes continuously rake over me, searching for signs of distress, then drift to the window that looks out over the burned barn. He stares at it for far too long, undoubtedly reliving the fiery nightmare he barely survived and the fact that we almost lost Davey.

He tears his gaze away with a huff and instead inspects the items laid out on the counter that we’ll need when the baby comes.

“Pops was right…”

Dalton looks over at me, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger anxiously as his feet move almost absently across the worn floorboards. “About what?”

“That your pacing is making me nervous.”

He freezes instantly and winces. “Shit.”

Shoulders slumping, he moves over to the tub and lowers himself onto his knees next to it, exactly where I sat beside him in this exact position not so long ago.

So much has happened so quickly. It’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that I didn’t even know Dalton James when I got pregnant with this baby he already cares about so much.

His hand slides over mine, the callouses so rough against my skin, despite the tenderness of the touch. “The last thing I want to do is make you nervous right now.”

I grin at him through the current discomfort and the intense pain I know is coming with the next contraction.

They’ve become strong.

And given how dilated I was the last time I had Dalton check…this baby isn’t waiting much longer.

He searches my face, a mixture of awe and affection filling his gaze. “How can you be so calm right now?”

I draw in a deep breath and release it, trying to formulate an answer he’ll understand.

It’s hard to explain the sense of calm that always settled over me during the busiest times in the ER, when most people would be frantic. I thrived in that environment. The fast pace. The life-and-death stakes. That’s part of what Dave always said made me such a “natural” at homesteading.

Though, I don’t know how he would have felt about that assertion had he seen the state of the place when Dalton arrived.

My savior…

I turn my hand to twine our fingers together. “I’m calm because I know there’s nothing I can do about the situation, I guess.” The water ripples around me with the shrug I offer. “I’m having the baby here whether I want to or not”—I squeeze his hand—“and I do want to. This was always the plan, so it doesn’t scare me. Neither does the fact that the baby’s coming, whether it’s two weeks early or not. Nothing is going to stop this. And ultimately, I’m calm because I’m confident that you and Pops will do everything you can to make sure this goes as smoothly as possible. I know you’re here, and that makes all the difference in the world.”

Because he’s always here.

By my side.

Since the moment he stared down the barrel of my shotgun.

Tears shimmer across his eyes, and he blinks rapidly to clear them. “I know you wish Dave were here.”

The emotions I’ve been trying to keep at bay since the birthday celebration about the man I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with burst through the wall I created around them, and I fight back a sob that lodges in my throat.

Dalton’s hand tightens on mine, and his other palm drifts over my stomach in the water.

“Of course I do…” Hot tears slowly slide down my cheeks. “He’s this little girl’s father.”

“He’s the love of your life.”

There isn’t any resentment or animosity in Dalton’s statement—just the level sound of him speaking something he knows is the truth.

I press my lips together to keep from sobbing, not wanting to give in to the utter despair threatening to overwhelm me. “But I love you, too.”

His mouth curls up, and he leans in and kisses my temple. “I know you do. I love you, too, and Davey, and I’m going to make sure this baby knows how much her father loved her even before she was here.”

The sob finally slips free, but it’s cut short when another contraction slams into me.

This time, the pain is so intense that my body demands I push. I grit my teeth and crush Dalton’s fingers in my own.

“Don’t hold your breath. In. Out. Long and slow.”

He repeats the instructions I told him to drill into me because I remember what it was like last time and how hard it was for me to remember to do something so damn simple.

I open my mouth and force myself to take a long inhale, then exhale. Then again. And again.

Until the contraction finally ebbs.

“How far apart are they now?”

Dalton asks over his shoulder, and Pops steps in from the hallway, where he’s been trying to keep an eye on Davey in his room and an ear out for anything we might need.

“Under two minutes.”

I sag against the cast iron, releasing a groan. “I’m going to have to start pushing. I’m fully dilated, and the contractions are coming harder and faster. My body feels like it needs to push, like it wants to. Exactly how I felt right before I delivered Davey.”

Dalton brushes sweaty hair back from my face.

Holding his gaze, I slide my dry hand across his stubbled cheek.

He wraps his fingers around my wrist, holding me in place, and turns in my hold and kisses my palm, letting his lips linger there. “I know what I have to do. You just worry about what you have to, and let us handle everything else.”

“Now look who’s being the calm and rational one.”

He laughs and kisses me hard squarely on my palm before releasing his hold.

Less than two minutes.

The next one will come at any moment.

And it’s time to bring this little girl into the world.

I glance over Dalton’s shoulder at Pops. “Davey?”

“Occupied. I’ll try to keep an eye on him while helping you in here, if you need it.”

“Thank you…”

Knowing I don’t need to worry about him is a tremendous weight off my already taxed shoulders.

He offers me the kindest smile I may have ever seen from the man who can be so grumpy at times, and I realize how much he has become the father figure I never had.

Just like he was for Dalton when he lost his parents.

“You don’t need to thank me, sweetheart. You’ve done more for us and for him ”—his gaze drifts to Dalton—“than I could ever put into words. Having you and Davey around keeps me young.”

“You won’t be saying that when you’re changing diapers and there’s a baby screaming in the middle of the night…”

He chuckles deeply. “That’s probably true.”

Another contraction ripples through me, the pain so intense the tears falling from my eyes this time aren’t simply from all the hormones and lovey feelings floating around tonight.

It’s time.

As soon as it ends, I open my eyes and meet Dalton’s concerned gaze. “I’m pushing on the next one.”

He nods, then releases my hand to go to the counter and grab the stack of clean towels, the sterilized scissors, and everything else I told them to have ready—just in case.

“I’m sorry there isn’t more I can do for you.”

I want to tell him that he’s done more for me than anyone else in my entire life. That each minute, each hour, each day he spent trying to fix my home only reinforced what an incredible, selfless human being he is.

The type of people Dave and I thought didn’t exist anymore after what I saw come into that ER every day.

Dalton kisses me again, but it’s cut off by the next contraction.

I grit my teeth, hold my breath, grip the sides of the tub to pull myself forward, and push .

Pain explodes, blinding me to anything else but the agony and the need to keep going even when I want to stop and end it…

A strong hand presses against my back, helping to hold me up as I struggle to keep bearing down…

The contraction eases, and I sag back into Dalton’s hold.

“I can see her head.”

Dalton’s voice breaks slightly, his fear filling his words.

I open my eyes to see how concerned he looks, staring into the water where his other hand is poised to catch her. “It’s okay. It can take a couple of pushes.”

My reassurance doesn’t change the way the clenched muscles tic in his jaw, but he seems ready.

And I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

When this contraction hits, I bear down as hard as I can, trying to block out the pain. Both the physical and wondering what Dave would think about the fact that Dalton has stepped into his role so quickly after I lost him.

It’s the last thing I should be worrying about in this moment.

But when she finally slips out and Dalton lifts my little girl from the water, everything else vanishes.

All I can see is her.

He quickly cuts the umbilical cord, and Pops appears at his side with an open towel to dry off her tiny body.

Her little startled cry makes me finally release the sob I’ve been holding back—overflowing with relief, happiness, and something I never thought I would have again.

Dalton wraps her carefully and cradles her against him, turning her so I can see her face as he settles beside the tub again. “What are you going to name her?”

He’s asked before, and I never really had an answer.

Looking at her in Dalton’s arms, there’s only one name that rings true.

A single word that this man has brought back to my life.

“Hope.”