Chapter 6 Thorne
six
Thorne
I wake before dawn, as I have every day since starting work as a lumberjack. But this morning is different. This morning, she's here.
Dahlia sleeps curled against me, her flame-red hair spilling across my chest, her breath warm against my skin. I don't move, savoring the weight of her body against mine. In the gray half-light, I study her face. She belongs here. With me. I've never been more certain of anything.
When her eyes flutter open, something tightens in my chest.
"Morning," she murmurs, voice husky with sleep.
I brush my thumb across her cheek, unable to form words for what I'm feeling. Instead, I pull her closer, claiming her mouth with mine. She responds immediately, arms twining around my neck as she melts against me.
After we've relearned each other's bodies in the soft morning light, I watch her dress in yesterday's clothes. Even rumpled, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"What's the plan for today?" she asks, attempting to tame her wild hair. "I should probably check in at the lodge. They might think I've been eaten by a bear."
The thought of her returning to town creates a knot in my gut. But I also know this is my chance.
"I'll take you," I say. "Show you Silver Ridge properly."
Her smile lights something inside me. "I'd like that."
The town looks different with her beside me. Though I've lived here my entire life, I suddenly see Silver Ridge through her eyes. The sort of things tourists gust about like the charm of the wooden buildings, the majestic backdrop of mountains, and the river glinting silver in the morning sun.
I park my truck on Main Street, acutely aware of every curious glance thrown our way. Thorne Harrington doesn't bring women to town. Ever. Already I can feel the whispered conversations, the speculation.
Good. Let them see her with me. Let everyone know she's mine.
"It's like stepping into a postcard," Dahlia says, eyes wide as she takes in the bustling street. "Or a movie set."
Main Street is more active than usual, with people hanging banners and stringing lights between buildings. The annual Timber Festival is two weeks away, but preparations always start early.
"What's going on?" she asks, pointing to a group erecting a wooden platform near the town square.
"Silver Ridge Timber Festival," I explain. "Biggest event of the year. Logging competitions, craft fair, dancing."
Her eyes light up. "That sounds amazing! When is it?"
"Two weeks." I watch her carefully, gauging her reaction. "You should come back for it."
Or stay. The words remain unspoken, but they hang between us.
Before she can respond, a booming voice calls my name. I turn to see Vernon Cooper, a big guy with an even bigger beard and owner of the Silver Lodge, approaching with a worried expression.
"Thorne! Good to see you." His eyes shift to Dahlia, widening in recognition. "And Ms. Pierce! We were concerned when you didn't return last night."
"Got caught in the storm," I say before she can answer.
Vernon's eyebrows rise as he looks between us, connecting dots. A knowing smile spreads across his face. "Well, I'm glad you found shelter."
Dahlia blushes, and something possessive rises in me. I place my hand at the small of her back, a clear signal that doesn't escape Vernon's notice.
"Actually, I should grab my things from the lodge," Dahlia says. "And maybe a change of clothes."
"Of course," Vernon says. "Your room's still available."
I walk with them to the lodge, keeping Dahlia close. My protective instincts are in overdrive. The thought of her returning to Vancouver with its crowds and traffic and faceless men creates a physical ache in my chest.
While she freshens up in her room, I wait in the lodge's common area. A plan forms in my mind. I need to show her everything Silver Ridge has to offer. Make her see she belongs here as clearly as I do.
When she returns, she's changed into a green dress that makes her hair look even more vibrant. Several heads turn as she walks toward me. Anger flares instinctively before I tamp it down. I can't blame them for looking. But I can make sure they know she's spoken for.
"Hungry?" I ask, offering my hand without thinking.
She takes it, her smaller fingers lacing through mine like they've always belonged there. "Starving."
I take her to Juniper's Diner, the best place in town. Juniper herself shows us to a table, her curious gaze lingering on our joined hands.
"Thorne Harrington," she says with a smirk. "Don't think I've seen you in here with company."
"Everyone seems to know you," Dahlia observes.
"Small town," I reply. "Three generations of Harringtons in Silver Ridge."
"And will there be a fourth?" she asks, then immediately blushes. "Sorry, that was presumptuous."
My heart hammers against my ribs. "Been wondering that myself lately."
Her eyes meet mine. "Thorne, I have a business in Vancouver. A life."
"You could have those things here," I say, the words coming out before I can stop them. "Silver Ridge needs someone like you."
I need someone like you. But it's too soon for those words.
"I just met you," she says softly.
"Yes." I take her hand across the table, not caring who sees. "But some things you just know."
I have two days before she needs to return to Vancouver. Two days to show her that what we found in that storm is worth rebuilding her life for.
Two days to convince her that she's already home.