Page 8 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

Dalton lets his hands fall, relaxing at his sides, reins still clutched in white knuckles. “I imagine it’s hard to get much done up here alone with this little guy.” He motions toward Davey. “What’s his name?”

I feel Davey pop his head out from behind my leg. “Davey!”

His sweet little voice carries across the space between us, and the ease with which he so readily gave Dalton the information instantly tightens my shoulders.

I peer down at him. “Shh. Don’t talk to strangers.”

He glances up at me. “Sorry, Mama.”

“Davey…”

Hearing his name from Dalton sends a little shiver through me. It’s soft, kind, and I haven’t heard anyone else say his name like that since Dave died.

“Have you been helping your mom?”

Davey nods vigorously, shifting around to my side slightly.

Dalton grins at him, the curl of his lips showing off, making him seem even more relaxed and approachable before his gaze returns to me. “I can help you take care of it. You can’t leave it sitting out there.”

“I’ve got it handled.”

His brows rise slowly. “I can see you’re quite capable of taking care of yourself, but I imagine she probably weighs at least 1,000 pounds, and you need to get her buried quickly. Do you have a backhoe?”

It’s like this man can see straight through me. Spot every weakness and mistake I’ve made since Dave died. All the ways I’ve failed laid bare the same way I feel under Dalton’s assessing gaze.

“I do, but it stopped firing up last week. I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

His lips press into a firm line. “So, you were going to dig by hand?”

It isn’t said with any malice, but a tinge of disbelief taints his deep voice. With a hint of something else thrown in there. Almost like he’s impressed that I thought Icould.

“Everything happened so quickly this morning, helping with the birth, then knowing she wasn’t going to make it, and having to focus on the calf. I haven’t had much time to figure anything out.”

But he’s right.

The longer the decaying body sits out in the middle of the livestock enclosure, the more of a danger it becomes. Once predators know there’s something for them on our property, they’ll keep coming back, even when the carcass is long gone.

Dalton’s gaze softens. “I know you don’t have any reason to, but you need to trust me, Camille.”

I flinch at the use of my name, the ease with which he uses it. Like we’re friends even though we’ve just met—and I’m still holding a gun on him.

“You can’t do it on your own.” His eyes drift down to Davey clinging to my leg. “Especially with this little man here being so inquisitive.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I press my lips together, biting back the desire to tell him I’m fine, that I can handle it…that natural instinct towantto take care of things myself and not let anyone in.

Because Ican’t.

I’m only going to be risking Davey and myself if I don’t accept his help.

We’re completely exposed here. Alone on the homestead with nothing but this shotgun to defend us againstanytype of predators that might wander onto our land.

If I can’t trust Dalton James, who can I trust?

No one.

There isn’t anyone elsetotrust up here.

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