Page 35 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

“How is he today? I only spoke to him briefly before I headed down to town.”

“He seems better than yesterday. It’s only slight improvements. Better recall about things that have happened since we met and little things like that. But I think it means I was right.”

Dalton nods slowly, watching them surreptitiously. “I spoke with Doc, and he confirmed essentially the same thing. He also said he would come up if he needed to.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I mean, ideally, we could get Pops down for a battery of tests to be sure. But other than physical therapy to address some of the balance issues and memory therapy to address those lingering problems—which I have been trying to accomplish with him when he cooperates—there’s not much you can do for somebody who has had a B12 deficiency other than let their body recover.”

A long, drawn-out sigh slips from Dalton’s lips, and his hands tighten into fists at his sides. It isn’t anything I haven’t told him before or that Doc hasn’t confirmed during our radio calls with him since I first tried to diagnose Pops.

But the frustration radiates off Dalton.

And I don’t think it has anything to do with his grandfather’s medical situation.

“I need to talk to him.”

“All right.” I throw my thumb over my shoulder in the direction of the small kitchen. “We’re in the middle of a game of Uno.”

His gaze darts to mine, and he offers a half-smirk. “That man is a card shark. Don’t ever play anything involving a deck with him. Even a child’s game. Because he’s also competitive as hell and will not lose to save anyone’s feelings—including Davey’s.”

He glances over my shoulder at Pops and Davey, who seem to be having a heated discussion about a card that was played. Though Davey understands the basic concept of the game, his full knowledge isn’t quite there yet, which means Pops is probably taking advantage of it.

I don’t know if I should be annoyed that he’s beating the snot out of my son in a simple child’s game or happy his memory seems good enough that hecan.

“Hey, Pops!”

The cunning old man looks up at Dalton, and his grandson inclines his head toward the front porch.

“We need to talk.”

White brows draw low in annoyance. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?”

“Your game can wait. This can’t.”

His head jerks up fully, catching on to Dalton’s tone. “Davey, I’m going to let your mom take over my hand.” He pushes back from the table, approaching us slowly as Davey continues to stare at the cards like they might change the longer he does. “What’s wrong? Are you two going to jab me full of needles again?”

I smile and plant a kiss on his cheek. “It’s for your own good, old man. Stop complaining about it.”

He grumbles something unintelligible under his breath, and I lift the bag.

“And I have dozens of needles to jab you with now.”

Dalton tips his head toward the porch again. “But that isn’t what we need to talk about, Pops, so follow me.”

Pops steps out into the afternoon heat, and I start to follow them, but Dalton turns in the door frame and shakes his head.

“Family business.”

My shoulders tense at the rejection. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

I shouldn’t have assumed he wanted me involved in whatever they wanted to discuss. Of course, they have things going on beyond this property and the burden I’ve become for them.

A lot of things.

Given the amount of time they’ve been spending with Davey and me, neither of them can be addressing thoseother thingsthe way they should.

“It’s not that, Camille. You’re not intruding. It’s just…”—he releases a heavy sigh, searching for an explanation—“nothing you need to worry about.”

Despite him repeating those very words to me multiple times, something tells me itissomething I need to worry about, or he wouldn’t be hiding it.

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