Page 32 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

“Yeah…”

Easy for him to say.

He likely hasn’t had a shotgun pointed at him for wanting to help.

I want to believe she’s not planning on delivering the baby at the homestead. If there were any complications, especially that time of year, getting down here to the clinic for any sort of medical intervention would take half the day, if it isn’t impossible altogether with the state the roads end up in during a snowstorm.

A million worst-case scenarios race through my head, but I try to push them away and do what I told myself I would—leave tomorrow’s concerns there. Right now, I need to concentrate on getting Pops well and triaging Camille’s homestead.

I snatch the bag and hold it up. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. You keep me updated on his progress, please. And let me know if I need to come up there. As I said last week, I can draw blood, confirm the diagnosis, and check for anything else unusual—”

I shake my head. “No. He already put up a fight when I told him he needed a shot. I almost had to restrain him to give it to him the other day. Camille only managed to get him to calm down by combining her expert nursing skills with bribing him with a German chocolate cake. If you come up there talking about blood draws…”

He laughs and drops his feet to the floor, standing behind his desk and leaning casually against it as I approach the door. “I’ve treated your grandfather and the rest of your family for almost forty years; I’m well aware of how ornery he can get. I can only imagine how it has been amplified by his current condition. Hopefully, that will be resolved soon.”

I open the door, then turn back to him to remind him how important it is that no one knows about Pops’ condition, but he narrows his eyes on me.

“Dalton, I would never say a word to anyone, even if Icould, ethically.”

Damn, is the man a mind reader?

Or is my worry just that obvious?

Neither is a particularly appealing idea, considering what else I’ve been hiding from Pops and Camille.

“What about you, son? How have you been feeling? Have you reconsidered—”

I snap my head up to meet his gaze. “No. I haven’t. I’m fine.”

The tight smile he gives me tells me he doesn’t quite believe that. Given his knowledge of what a mess I am, he shouldn’t. If anyone in James Creek knows the kind of pain I live with day in and day out, it’s Doc Baker.

He’s also smart enough not to push me about it. “Just take care of yourself.”

I incline my head by way of goodbye and close the door behind me. My boots squeak on the linoleum as I make my way up through the pharmacy and past Ted. “See you around.”

He tosses me a wave and quickly returns to his book as I step out onto the sidewalk. The fresh summer mountain air fills my lungs rather than the antiseptic scents inside.

I pause to take in the quiet of Main Street. A few people mill about the sidewalks, making their way from shop to shop, but most of the three hundred people who live around James Creek and call it home are still in theirs.

And I only have a few more stops for supplies before I can head back up the mountain where Camille is waiting.

A warmth spreads through my chest, imagining the way her face lights up now when I pull into their drive or meet her on the porch in the mornings she comes to our place to spend time with Pops after taking care of the animals on her property.

The wariness and fear that soaked her gaze when I met her and she held that shotgun on me with trembling hands seems to have disappeared or at least abated somewhat.

I might not be able to fix all her problems.

I may not have any idea what we’re going to do once winter hits and it’s going to be nearly impossible to move between the homesteads safely.

And God knows I don’t have a fuckingcluewhat we’ll do when she goes into labor and has that baby.

But those are problems forfutureme.

Currentme needs to forget the way my heart has started to do that stupid stuttering thing every time I’m around her and the fact that my cock seems to come to life with just a simple, appreciative look from her.

I’m not doinganyof this because of my attraction to Camille Bower. She’s just a friend who needs a hand—and that’s all she can ever be.

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