Page 20 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

There’s only one place I can go right now to try to find some clarity in the chaos—the barn and Apollo.

He’s been with me for almost fifteen years, become my priest and my confidant. Though his advice leaves something to be desired, he’s a damn good listener and maybe the only one I’m going to have soon.

Because despite Pops’ insistence, he is not going to live forever. And the way he’s been deteriorating, I fear that day is coming sooner rather than later.

There’s nothing I can do to stop what’s coming, but I have to try.

For him and the Bowers.

* * *

CAMILLE

Tires crunching over gravel cut through the almost silent, still morning air, and I look up from bottle-feeding Rocky in the livestock pen as a red truck pulls through the trees and onto the property.

My first instinct is to dive for the shotgun leaning against the side of the barn only a few feet from me, but Dalton opens the driver’s side and steps down, his already familiar form visible in the early light that’s just barely starting to trickle over the horizon.

He glances up at the cabin, then over at the barn, and his eyes finally find mine.

Just like yesterday, the deep-green gaze rakes over me, assessing me in a way that makes me squirm slightly.

I’m not used to having anyone look at me so intently. Like he’s trying to unravel everything I have wound up inside me and break through all the walls I’ve had to put up to protect us while up here alone.

The longer it lingers on me, the harder it becomes not to react, not to avert my gaze or shift restlessly.

I don’t think he intends it to be sexual, but the close perusal finally forces me to look away, back at the tiny calf whose birth caused this man to come barreling into our lives so unexpectedly.

And I am not ready to have him inserting himself into our world.

I amsonot ready forhim.

But it’s impossible to ignore his presence, either.

I cast furtive glances his way as I keep working. He starts toward me in a pair of worn jeans, work boots, and an open plaid shirt with the sleeves cut off that shows off his lean, muscular body, honed by years of endless work on their homestead.

This man is strong.

And he knows what he’s doing.

Accepting his help may not be instinctual, but it’s necessary if I want to be able to stay here.

He stops at the edge of the fence and leans against it. “Where’s Davey?”

I incline my head toward the cabin. “Still sleeping.”

A sandy-blond brow rises. “Aren’t you worried he’ll wake up and you won’t be there?”

Rocky nudges me, asking for more when his breakfast runs dry. “Yes, but I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” I point to the back pocket of my jeans with my free hand. “Baby monitor. It covers almost the entire property so I can listen for him while he’s sleeping in the early mornings or evenings or napping during the day. It’s the only time I really can get anything done around here.”

The corners of his lips twitch, and he seems more relaxed today, despite what I know we need to discuss. “That’s smart.” He scans the yard, his gaze landing on Rocky, who still presses against my hand, seeking more. “Is this Rocky?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“He seems to be doing well.”

“He is, so far.”

Dalton watches me as I move to stand in front of him on the opposite side of the fence. “That’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

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