6. Connor
CHAPTER 6
CONNOR
T he door to room five of the Deepwood Inn swings shut behind us with a satisfying click. Teagan immediately flops onto the queen bed, arms splayed wide.
"Oh my god," she groans. "I never thought a mattress could feel this heavenly."
I drop our bags by the dresser and survey our temporary sanctuary—knotty pine walls, bright landscape prints, and the distinct woody scent of a mountain lodge that's been updated for modern comfort, but not stripped of cozy charm. It's dry, warm, and blissfully private after our soggy night in the tent.
"Better than roots digging into your back?" I ask, easing down beside her, the bed dipping under my weight.
She rolls toward me, those vibrant green eyes dancing. “Vastly. Though the company made up for the discomfort."
My lips quirk into a smile. "Smooth talker."
"I learned from the best." She kicks off her boots, letting them thud against the carpet. "Though I'm pretty sure I've still got half the forest in my hair."
I reach out, twirling a copper strand around my finger. "You wear it well. Like a forest nymph."
"A very dirty, very tired forest nymph." She stretches, her shirt riding up to reveal a strip of pale skin. My mouth waters.
My god, what this woman does to me.
I lie back, drawing her against me. She nestles close, head resting on my shoulder like she's been doing it for years instead of hours.
"I've been thinking about what you said," I murmur into her hair. "About combining our visions."
She tilts her face up. "And?"
"It's brilliant." I trace her jawline with my fingers. "The lumberjack camp as a living laboratory. Traditional knowledge meeting modern science."
She beams, practically glowing. "You really think so?"
"I know so." I shift to face her fully. "Your dissertation could document how selective harvesting affects forest health over time. Show that responsible logging isn't the enemy of conservation."
"And visitors would see both perspectives," she adds eagerly. "Learn how the ecological webs connect to human history in these mountains."
I nod, already envisioning it. "We could design the camp around demonstration areas—show how different harvesting techniques impact understory growth, wildlife habitat..."
"Track mycorrhizal network responses!" She sits up, excitement radiating from her. "Compare soil samples from undisturbed areas versus managed zones."
"Whoa, easy there, Professor." I laugh, tugging her back down. "We've got time to work out the scientific details."
She settles against me again, fingers tracing patterns on my chest. "It could be revolutionary, Connor. A true fusion of traditional knowledge and ecological research."
"Our legacy," I say, the word heavy with meaning.
Her hand stills. "Our?"
And there it is—the question hanging between us, larger than dissertations or tourist attractions. What are we to each other beyond this wild, unexpected collision of worlds?
I take a deep breath. "That's what I want it to be, Teagan. Ours. Not just the camp or your research, but a life together."
Her eyes widen. "Connor?—"
"Let me finish," I say gently. "I'm forty-three. You're twenty-four. That's not a small gap. When you're my age, I'll be pushing my second retirement."
"I don't care about that," she interrupts.
"But I do," I continue. "Because I need you to understand what you'd be signing up for. I'm set in my ways. Stubborn as hell. Not exactly the guy most young women picture building a future with."
She props herself up on one elbow, expression fierce. "First, don't tell me what 'most young women' want. Second, I know exactly who you are—the good, the bad, and the frustrating."
"Frustrating, huh?" I can't help the smile tugging at my lips.
"Incredibly." She pokes my chest. "You're opinionated, overconfident, and occasionally infuriating."
"Not really selling myself here?—"
"You're also passionate, principled, and surprisingly open-minded when you actually listen," she continues. "You care about preserving traditions that matter. You respect the forest in your own way. And when you look at me..." Her voice softens. "When you look at me, I feel seen in a way I never have before."
Something breaks open inside me—a dam holding back emotions I've kept locked away too long. "I see you," I whisper, cupping her face. "All of you. Not just the fiery ecologist, but the woman who migrated across the tent in her sleep to curl against me. Who defends mushrooms with the same passion others reserve for their children."
She laughs, the sound catching on what might be a sob. “So why does the age difference matter to you?”
"It matters because I want you to have everything you deserve," I explain. "A full life. Family, if you want it. Adventures. I don't want to hold you back."
"Has it occurred to you," she says, voice steady, "that you might be exactly what I need to move forward? That your experience complements my idealism? That we're stronger together?"
The echo of what we discussed about forest ecosystems isn't lost on me. "Like the hemlock and the cedar."
"Exactly." Her smile is brilliant. "Different species supporting each other, creating something more resilient than either could alone."
I pull her closer, inhaling the scent of summer leaves still clinging to her hair. "So what are you saying, Smokey? You want to take a chance on an old lumberjack?"
"You're not old," she scoffs. "Experienced. And yes, I'm saying I want us to build this together—the camp, the research, a life. I'm all in if you are."
My heart thunders inside me. "I've never been more certain of anything."
"Then it's settled." She seals the declaration with a kiss that starts gentle but quickly deepens, her body pressing against mine with newfound confidence.
When we break apart, breathless, she has a gleam in her eye that has my cock standing at attention.
"Now," she says, fingers working the buttons of my flannel, "I believe this room comes with one very important amenity we should take advantage of."
I raise an eyebrow and search around us. "I don’t see a ‘Magic Fingers’ vibrating bed console?"
She laughs, shoving my shoulder. "The shower, silly. A real, hot shower with actual water pressure."
"Ah." I capture her wandering hands. "Excellent suggestion."
I stand, pulling her up with me. We undress each other slowly, no urgency now—just the deliberate unveiling of what we've claimed as ours.
In the bathroom, steam billows as hot water fills the small space. I step in first, offering my hand to help her over the high edge of the tub. She joins me under the spray, sighing as water glides over her skin.
"Turn around," I murmur, reaching for the shampoo.
She complies, and I work the lather through her long hair, massaging her scalp with firm pressure. She melts against me, a soft moan escaping her lips.
"Goddamn, I love that sound," I growl.
She smiles as I rinse the suds away, watching copper strands darken to auburn under the water. Then I reach for the small bar of soap, working it between my palms until they're slick. Starting at her shoulders, I wash every inch of her—the sexy curve of her spine, the swell of her waist, and the lean strength of her thighs.
She turns in my arms when I finish, taking the soap from my hands. "My turn."
Water cascades over us as she returns the favor, her touch both thorough and achingly sinful.
When the water finally begins to cool, we reluctantly shut it off. I wrap her in one of the thin white towels, using another to gently dry her hair.
"What happens tomorrow?" she asks, voice quiet beneath the towel.
I pause, considering. "We head back to Timber Run. Start plotting out the camp locations. Maybe drive into Missoula to talk to your dissertation committee."
"And us?" Her eyes find mine, a vulnerability there that catches at my heart.
"We figure it out one day at a time," I say honestly. "Build something that works for both of us." I search for the right words. "Adaptive management."
A slow smile spreads across her face. "Did you just use an ecological term?"
"Might have picked up a thing or two from a passionate grad student I know." I pull her against my chest, damp towels and all. "Turns out she's pretty persuasive when she gets fired up."
"Hmm." She winds her arms around my neck. "And here I thought it was my forest nymph charm."
"That too," I concede, kissing her. "Definitely, that too."