Page 4 of Falling for the Lumberjack

He took it, his big hands brushing mine for just a second. Just long enough to make every nerve in my body spark with awareness. His skin was rough, callused from years of physical labor, yet his touch was controlled. Deliberate, almost.

His fingers tightened around the box, his throat working as he swallowed. The movement drew my attention to the strong column of his neck, to the shadow of stubble that darkened his jaw. To the pulse that beat steadily, if perhaps a bit quickly, beneath his skin.

I needed to get out of here.

Now.

Before I did something stupid. Like reach out and trace that jumping pulse with my fingertips. Or worse, with my tongue.

I handed him the clipboard, lifting my chin in a show of professionalism that felt laughably false. “I’ll just need you—”

And that’s when Mother Nature decided to personally mess with me.

Crack. Boom.

The ground shuddered beneath us. A deep, deafening crash split the silence, followed by the sharp splintering of wood. The sound echoed through the clearing, momentarily drowning out the approaching thunder.

I whirled around to see what had happened, but as I did, an arm wrapped around my waist—tight. Solid. Unyielding. Like an iron band that both protected and trapped. And yanked me back.

Right into him.

Into Landry.

His chest was like stone against my back, unyielding yet somehow perfectly molded to my curves. His grip was tight. Protective. Absolute. As if he’d move mountains before he’d let harm come to me. The realization sent a different kind of warmth spreading through me—one that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with something more dangerous. Something that felt uncomfortably like trust.

For a second, neither of us moved.

His heartbeat pounded against my spine, strong, but racing. The rhythm matched my own, our bodies synced in this one, vital way.

His breath ghosted over my ear. Slow. Controlled. Warm against my skin, raising goosebumps along my neck.

Like he was holding something back. Something primal and hungry that threatened to break free.

I didn’t breathe.

I couldn’t.

Because suddenly, nothing else existed.

Not the tree that had fallen mere feet from where I’d been standing. Not the storm rolling in, dark clouds now directly overhead.

Just this.

The heat of his body. The strength of his hands. The way he held me like I was something precious and fragile, despite knowing I was neither. His fingers splayed possessively against my stomach, like he was memorizing the feel of me. Like he needed this contact as much as he seemed to avoid it.

I knew I should have stepped away. I should have said something snarky, made a joke, broken the spell that seemed to have fallen over us. Reminded us both of the careful distance we always maintained.

Instead, I just... stayed there. Sank into his embrace. Let myself experience, just for a moment, what it would be like if things were different between us. If the attraction that simmered beneath the surface was something we acknowledged rather than fought.

And then, too soon, he was stepping back. The loss of his warmth was immediate and profound, leaving me feeling strangely bereft.

His fingers dragged over my stomach as he let go, a slow, torturous slide. Like he hadn’t meant to touch me that way—but couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t stop himself from taking this one small liberty.

I exhaled shakily, turning around to face him. The sudden absence of his touch left me unbalanced, adrift. He was already watching me. And for the first time since I’d met the man, his expression wasn’t neutral. It was something else.

Something darker.

Something possessive.

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