Page 56 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

This isn’t really about Dalton.

He’s your friend.

That’s it.

It’s all he’ll ever be—a friend and a neighbor who is helping you through a horrible situation.

I try to convince myself of that before I dare open my eyes again.

But as I do, he’s right there watching me, searching for something I’m not sure I can give him.

Christ.

I’m thirteen years older than the man, and he’s barely lived a life stuck up here on the mountain with Pops.

“I wish you wouldn’t look at me like that.”

He pulls back slightly. “Why not?”

“Because, like you said, you’ve never gotten to experience anything beyond James Mountain. Have you ever even had a girlfriend?”

The corner of his lips twitches like he finds the question amusing when it wasn’t meant to be. “Why does that matter?”

“It matters a lot.”

“No, it doesn’t.” He casually drags his thumb across my lower lip, sending a fluttering sensation between my legs. “I told you that first day that I don’t expect anything from you in return for my help, and I mean it. But I want you to know that if you ever need more from me, all you have to do is tell me so I can give it to you.”

Oh, God.

His words wash over me, reigniting that flame I’ve been trying to extinguish the entire time he’s had me cornered in this hallway.

I grit my teeth, fighting my body’s natural reaction to having such a handsome man press his hard body against mine when it’s been so long since I’ve been touched in that way, when the hormones raging through my body want so badly to do something utterly stupid.

“I don’t need anything else from you, Dalton.”

It’s a lie.

One I hope he buys.

His hand pauses with the palm resting against my cheek. “Are you sure about that?”

I nod.

“Okay.” He leans in slightly and brushes his lips to my forehead in the most gentle, chaste, sincere gesture I’ve ever experienced in my life. He lets them linger there for a minute, and I close my eyes, breathing in the crisp scent of the soap he used to shower with right before dinner and that smell of freshly cut wood and the forest around us that still clings to him. Then he slowly pulls back. “You let me know if you change your mind.”

I swallow thickly through my desert-dry throat as he pushes back and pulls his hands away from the wall and me.

My heart beats wildly against my ribcage as I watch him walk away, taking the answer I still haven’t received with him. “Dalton…”

He stops and turns back toward me, his brow furrowing.

“How did you get those scars on your back?”

His jaw hardens, and his shoulders tense.

“That’s what I need from you—that information. I need you to answer the question.”

Because I won’t be able to continue accepting his help when he could be hurting himself.

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