Page 28 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

That plan went out the window the moment my eyes met Camille’s terrified ones.

There isn’t time for carefully controlled progress. At this point, it’s nothing more than a mad dash to securetwoproperties before the snow finally falls. And up here, that could be as early as October, if we’re unlucky.

I grit my teeth, refusing to let Pops see how uncomfortable I am. “Yep, I’m good.”

Camille appears from the kitchen, her dark brow raised as she wipes her hands on the apron over her jeans and gray T-shirt. “Oh, you’re back.”

“I am.”

It comes out a little clipped, and I instantly regret the tone I let filter into my words. I’m not used to having to interact with anyone other than Pops, and even when I do go into town, I’ve never felt likethis. Where my legs shake and it takes every ounce of strength I possess to stay upright.

Either she doesn’t notice, or she chooses to ignore it, motioning over her shoulder. “I just finished dinner, if you’re hungry.”

“I’m definitely that.”

And for the first time since I’ve met the woman, the smile that appears on her perfect pink lips lights her up entirely, her blue eyes shimmering like Caribbean waters, her high cheekbones and heart-shaped face framed by several strands of dark amber hair that have fallen away from the messy bun she tied at the back of her head.

My heart stutters, and I swallow again, trying to force the air I draw in through my suddenly dry throat. “Let me just go…uh, wash up.”

Because if I don’t splash some cold water onto my face and other parts of my body, I might start thinking about horizontal things with the very beautiful widow who absolutely shouldnotbe entering my mind.

Ever.

She motions for Davey and Pops. “Let’s go, boys. Time to eat.”

Pops grabs the edge of the couch to pull himself to his feet, and Davey rushes past his mother with the old man lumbering after him.

Rather than following them into the kitchen, Camille pauses in the archway and turns back to me. “You and I need to talk privately after dinner.”

Instantly, my stomach plummets, my appetite and that frighteningly strong guttural reaction to this woman gone in an instant, replaced by a foreboding sense of dread. “What’s wrong?”

“After dinner.”

I shake my head and close the distance between us, not even caring that I probably reek like sweat and everything I’ve been doing all day out in the hot sun. “Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

She purses her lips and glances over her shoulder to ensure Pops and Davey are occupied at the table before she motions me away from the kitchen toward the closed door of his office. “I’m ninety percent sure I know what’s going on.”

A mixture of relief and trepidation flows through me, replacing the physical pain I’ve been nearly drowning in.

“Is it…” I can’t even think the word, but I manage to force it out. “Is it Alzheimer’s?”

Her gaze softens, and she shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

The rush of air that pours from my lungs surprises even me, and I scrub my hand through my sweaty hair. “Thank God.”

“I actually think it’s something that could be relatively easy to correct.”

“What do you mean?”

She checks the kitchen again. “I’ve been watching him all day, asking questions when I can in ways that hopefully won’t upset him.”

“That can be difficult.”

Her answering tight smile demonstrates she has witnessed Pops’ stubborn streak herself today. “He seems like he can be a difficult man at times, but he’s so good with Davey. He’s been incredible with him, showing him all around the cabin, playing games with him. He even took him out to meet all your animals after you went to our place.” She does another peek at them. “And I managed to get enough information from him to know that it’s not just his memory and the unsteadiness. He’s dizzy at times, and he says he gets tingling in his hands and feet.”

“And that means something?”

She nods, those thick, dark strands drifting across her soft cheeks with the movement. “It does, especially coupled with his fingernails.”

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