Chapter 2
two
Leo
She says yes, and something primitive roars to life in my chest.
Mine.
The thought hits me like a falling tree.
This woman who appeared on my doorstep—city-soft and beautiful and clearly lost—belongs to me.
I've never believed in love at first sight, but looking at Emma Hartley with her honey-blonde hair and eyes like storm clouds, I suddenly understand why my grandfather used to say mountain men know their mates within minutes.
Dangerous thinking. I barely know her name.
"Good," I tell her, trying to keep my voice steady. "Now, what's in that bottle you brought?"
She glances at the wine she'd set down, color rising in her cheeks. "Pinot noir. I was planning to drink it while contemplating my life choices."
"Perfect. We can contemplate your life choices together."
Her laugh is bright and genuine, nothing like the practiced sounds city women usually make. I move to the kitchen, giving myself space to think while I hunt for a corkscrew.
Emma Hartley. Even her name fits her. It’s elegant but strong, like wildflowers that bloom in harsh mountain soil.
"So what brings you to Silver Ridge?" I ask, opening the wine. "Besides getting scammed."
"Midlife crisis at twenty-eight." She settles on the couch, tucking her legs under her. "Caught my ex cheating, quit my job, decided I needed to figure out what I actually want from life."
"Lawyer?" I guess, pouring wine into two glasses.
"Good guess. Corporate law. Soul-sucking but well-paid." She accepts the glass I offer, our fingers brushing. The contact sends electricity up my arm. "What about you? What does a MacKenzie do for work?"
"Sustainable logging operations. Make sure we harvest responsibly, replant what we take." I settle on the opposite end of the couch, though every instinct wants me closer to her. "Family business, more or less."
"So you're actually a lumberjack." Her eyes spark with interest. "That's very authentic."
"Authentic?"
"Most men I know in Vancouver work in tech or finance. They wear expensive suits and talk about quarterly projections." She sips her wine, studying me over the rim. "You look like you could wrestle a bear."
"Only on weekends," I deadpan, earning another laugh.
We talk as the fire crackles and the wine disappears. She tells me about her law career, her growing dissatisfaction with corporate life, her secret dream of opening a bookstore. I tell her about Silver Ridge, about sustainable forestry, about the satisfaction of working with my hands.
What strikes me most is how we fit together conversationally—finishing each other's thoughts, sharing the same sense of humor, both searching for something more meaningful than the lives we've been living.
She's running from a world that didn't value her authenticity.
I've been waiting for someone who could appreciate the life I've built here.
"Sounds peaceful," she says, curling deeper into the couch cushions.
"Can be. Also isolated. Not many career opportunities for corporate lawyers."
"Maybe I don't want to be a corporate lawyer anymore." Her eyes meet mine directly, and I see the same longing for change that's been driving my own choices. "Maybe I want something real for once."
"What would you want to be?"
"Someone braver." She meets my eyes directly. "Someone who takes risks instead of always playing it safe. Someone who trusts her instincts instead of always second-guessing herself."
The vulnerability in her voice, the way she's looking at me like I might be the answer to questions she's been afraid to ask, makes my chest tight with emotion.
She's not just beautiful—she's brave enough to admit she's lost, smart enough to know she needs to change, strong enough to walk away from security for the chance at something real.
"Emma."
"Yes?"
"I should probably mention I haven't been with anyone in over a year."
Her eyes widen slightly. "Why are you telling me that?"
I lean closer, drawn by some force I can't resist. "Because if I kiss you right now, I won't want to stop. And I want you to know this isn't something I do casually. This feeling—what's happening between us—I've never experienced anything like it."
Her breath catches. "Kiss me anyway."
Permission granted.
I close the distance between us, one hand sliding into her silky hair, the other settling at her waist. The first touch of her lips is electric—soft and warm and perfect. She melts into me immediately, her hands fisting in my shirt.
When I deepen the kiss, she makes a small sound that goes straight to my cock. She tastes like wine and possibility, and I want to devour her completely.
"Leo," she breathes against my mouth when we break apart.
"Tell me what you want." My voice sounds foreign to my own ears—rough with need.
"You." The word is barely a whisper. "I want you."
Something snaps inside me. I lift her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist as I stand. She weighs nothing in my arms, all soft curves and feminine warmth.
I carry her down the hall, my hands spanning her narrow waist, her scent filling my lungs. This is madness. I've known her for three hours. But the rightness of it, the way she fits against me like she was made for my arms, silences every rational thought.
In my bedroom, I set her down gently beside the bed. The lamplight catches in her hair, turning it to spun gold. She's so beautiful it makes my chest ache.
"Last chance to change your mind," I tell her, though saying the words nearly kills me.
"I'm not changing my mind." Her hands come up to frame my face, thumbs tracing my cheekbones. "Are you?"
Instead of answering, I kiss her again, deeper this time, my hands finding the hem of her blouse. She helps me lift it over her head, then reaches for my shirt with trembling fingers.
When her hands hit my bare chest, I growl low in my throat. Her touch is electric, feminine fingers exploring the hard planes of muscle, tracing scars with unexpected tenderness.
"So strong," she whispers, pressing her lips to my collarbone.
Her simple words ignite something primal in me. I need her naked, need to see all of her. My hands make quick work of her bra, and when her breasts are revealed, perfect and pale in the lamplight, I have to pause just to look.
"Beautiful," I breathe, cupping the soft weight of them in my calloused hands. "So fucking beautiful."
She arches into my touch with a gasp that makes my cock throb. When I lower my head to take one rosy nipple into my mouth, she cries out, her hands fisting in my hair.
"Please," she gasps. "Leo, please."
"Tell me," I command against her skin. "Tell me what you need."
"Everything." Her voice breaks on the word. "I need everything."
I lift her onto the bed, following her down, covering her body with mine. The feel of her beneath me, soft and pliant and mine, nearly undoes me completely.
My mouth trails down her body, tasting, claiming. When I reach the waistband of her jeans, I look up to find her watching me, pupils blown wide with desire.
I strip away her remaining clothes with reverent hands, then settle between her thighs. The first taste of her draws groans from us both—her from the sensation, me from the sheer perfection of finally having her this way.
"Leo!" She arches off the bed as I work her with my tongue, alternating between gentle licks and focused attention on her most sensitive spot.
She's so responsive, so perfect. When I slide two fingers inside her tight heat, she comes apart with a cry that echoes through the cabin, her body clenching around my fingers rhythmically.
Before she can recover, I'm moving up her body, positioning myself at her entrance. I push into her slowly, giving her time to adjust to my size. She's so tight, so perfect around me that I have to grit my teeth to maintain control.
"Fuck," I groan when I'm in deep. "You feel incredible."
I start slow, deep strokes that have her gasping beneath me. But when she wraps her legs around my waist and urges me faster, harder, my control snaps.
"Mine," I growl, driving into her with new intensity. "Say it."
"Yours," she cries out, meeting me thrust for thrust. "I'm yours, Leo."
The words push me to the edge. I reach between us, finding where we're joined, circling her clit with my thumb as I continue to claim her body.
"Come for me," I command. "Come on my cock."
She shatters around me, inner muscles clenching so tight I nearly pass out. The sensation makes me lose control, and I pour myself into her with a groan.
When we finally catch our breath, I gather her against my chest, both of us sweat-slicked and satisfied.
Mine. Forever mine.