Page 80 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

Something in my gut tells me today’s intrusion on the mountain wasn’t an innocent tourist sightseeing at our pristine lake. Camille clearly knows that, too, or she wouldn’t have been so shaken when I arrived.

The relief that flooded her gaze when she realized it wasmewho pulled in behind her was enough to give me a flicker of hope that what happened today between us won’t ruin everything.

It’s that warmth that mixes with the pure heat of my anger toward the assholes who brought that fear back to her.

By the time I reach the cabin and knock at the front door, I’m struggling to rein in my rage over the entire situation, and I don’t even know how long I’ve been gone securing the property.

An hour?

Two?

It feels like forever, though I know it hasn’t been that long given the fact that my back hasn’t returned to screeching in protest.

I just don’t like to be away from her.

Any distance between us feels too great.

That’s a dangerous feeling to have when she isn’t ready for it.

I should have given her space to process what happened between us today, but as soon as Pops said they had left, nothing was going to keep me from coming after them.

Because I needed to see her.

To know they were safe.

To know I didn’t fuck up everything between us by allowing her to touch me. Allowing myself to touchherlike that.

My body thrums with the memory as I climb the porch steps, my hands itching to take her into my arms and hold her again. To do all the things Ididn’t, that Icouldn’tbefore.

If she’ll let me…

Camille’s face appears in the window beside the door where she once stood to eavesdrop on Pops and me about likely the very situation I’m dealing with tonight. When she sees me, her shoulders sag, and she unlocks the door and yanks it open.

She throws herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck, her belly pressing into mine tightly, like she can’t get close enough. “Oh, God, I was so worried.”

I cling to her with my free arm, the shotgun still clasped at my side in my other hand, and bury my face in the thick, dark amber hair she’s let down from the typically messy bun she keeps it in. “I’m okay. Nothing seems amiss on the property. I don’t think anyone came up here, but I’ll check again in the morning before I head to the lake.”

She tugs back, her brows raised, searching my face like she doesn’t quite understand. “In the morning?”

“You really think I’m going to let you stay up here alone tonight?”

“But your grandfather…”

Shifting my hand from around her, I brush the hair back from her face. “Pops is the one who taught me how to fire a gun, and he has better aim than anyone I know. He also has ashoot-first, ask-questions-latermentality. He’ll be fine. You and Davey won’t be. I don’t want to scare him by trying to take him back to my place, and I wouldn’t sleep, knowing you were up here alone without any sort of protection.”

She scowls at me, the twist of her lips insanely beautiful, despite her best efforts to toss me the strongest reproachful look in her arsenal. “I protected myself pretty well against you.”

The memory of the way she leveled this very gun on me the first time I came up here makes me grin at her. “That you did, but I don’t want you tohaveto do that again, ever. I’m staying here tonight.”

Her body tenses, and she backs away from me, retreating into the living room fully as her gaze darts toward the two bedrooms.

I lean the gun carefully against the wall beside the door as I close and lock it, securing us inside. When I turn back to her, Camille has that plump bottom lip pulled between her teeth again.

But I don’t think this concern has anything to do with the potential there may be someone out in the miles of wilderness surrounding us.

This has to do with something much closer.

Me.

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