Page 1 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

ChapterOne

SILAS

The first spring breeze of the year blows down Main Street, bringing with it the promise of warmer, longer days and hours spent out in the sun instead of cooped up inside the cabin.

A perfect day.

Everyone in Millsburg seems to be out, enjoying the shift in weather that could easily reverse itself this time of year. They bustle up and down the sidewalks, chatting with each other, ducking into the small shops that line the only real downtown area to say hello to friends or grab something quickly.

But no one dares approach me.

They know better.

All I get are darting glances and concerned looks from mothers ushering their children away from where I lean against the side of my truck outside Jensen’s General Store.

It’s always been this way. Even after over fifteen years of living on the mountain above them, I’m still a newcomer. A stranger. Someone to watch with a wary eye and offer a wide berth.

And that’s the way I like it.

If they have no desire to approach me, they won’t ask questions or demand anything I can’t give them. It’s the only way I can keep living this way without somebody finding out who I am—if no one cares. And today, they’re making it clear they still want nothing to do with the tattooed, bearded, long-haired madman from the mountain.

Good riddance.

Maintaining a conversation with anyone has become a chore after so long, and I have no intention of chit-chatting with any Millsburg locals while I’m down here with my wood deliveries. It’s hard enough having to deal with Jensen—and I actuallylikethe old man.

All I want is to get into town, get what I need for the next few weeks, and do my business. Then I can retreat to solitude and leave these headaches behind.

Like the one forming at my temples the longer I have to be here, surrounded by so many prying eyes.

What is taking him so long?

I glance over my shoulder toward the old building that’s housed the general store for Millsburg for at least the last century and a half. Jensen shuffles around near the register, speaking with someone on the other side of the counter, his easy smile visible through the big windows at the front.

Huffing, I cross my arms over my chest and return to observing the people of this town who go through their days without the slightest idea of what goes on beyond their sheltered lives in this valley.

If only it were so easy for me to forget what is really out there…

A decade and a half alone hasn’t helped with that at all. The memories linger. The demons still attack. The same face flashes in my nightmares and haunts my days every time I close my eyes.

My knee starts bouncing incessantly the longer I wait. Down here, my anxiety sets in quick.

Too many people.

Too many sets of eyes on me.

Too much scrutiny.

Something cold and wet touches my neck, and I reach back and rub Whiskey’s muzzle, my racing heart slowing almost immediately with his closeness. “Sorry, boy. We should be out of here soon.”

God willing.

He gets just as anxious as I do when we have to be in town too long, and his nervous energy vibrates through his thick coat and into my hand. His observant gaze darts around in all directions, trying to keep track of everyone and everything, always searching for anyone or anything out of place, like I trained him to.

My constant companion. My protector. My best friend.

His body stiffens, and I follow his line of sight down the street to a sleek black sedan coming toward us.

Fuck.

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