Page 20 of The Forbidden Mountain Man Lumberjack
"Show me."
I walk him through my findings—how digital tracking could reduce idle time for hauling crews, how inventory managementsoftware could optimize cutting schedules, how centralized communication could prevent costly miscommunications between teams.
He asks thoughtful questions, challenging assumptions but not dismissing them outright. When I finish, he sits back, considering everything I've presented.
"You've made a compelling case," he says finally.
"But?" I can hear the qualification in his tone.
"But I'm still concerned about implementation. Training older crew members on new technology. The learning curve. The disruption to operations while we transition."
Valid concerns, all of them.
"That's why any implementation plan would be phased," I tell him. "We start small, prove the concept, then expand gradually. And I'd be here throughout the process."
"For how long?" The question seems to carry more weight than it should.
"That depends on the scope of changes you approve." I hesitate, aware that my professional timeline now carries personal implications. "It could be weeks. It could be months."
Something flickers in his eyes—relief, perhaps, or anticipation. "And your next client?"
"Would come after Brennan Logging is successfully modernized." I meet his gaze directly. "I see my projects through, Wyatt. I don't leave things half-finished."
The double meaning isn't lost on either of us.
"Good to know." His voice is low, intimate despite the professional setting. "Because I'd hate to see you leave too soon."
The words send warmth spreading through my chest. Before I can respond, his radio crackles with a call from one of the cutting crews, breaking the moment.
"I need to handle this," he says, standing. "But I want to continue this conversation. Both parts of it."
"I'll be here," I reply, the simple phrase carrying its own weight of promise.
After he leaves, I try to refocus on my work, but my mind keeps drifting to the night before, to the morning after, to the way everything has shifted between us in the space of twenty-four hours.
I came to Grizzly Ridge to modernize a logging operation, to prove myself professionally, to advance my career. I never expected to find myself falling for the very man whose resistance to change was my primary obstacle.
But as I look at the numbers before me, at the potential I see in his company, I realize something important: my professional goals and my personal feelings aren't as contradictory as they first appeared.
Because at the heart of both is the same desire—to help Wyatt Brennan preserve what matters most while embracing the changes necessary for growth.
The realization settles over me with a clarity that's both terrifying and exhilarating. Whatever happens between us personally, I'm more committed than ever to doing right by him professionally.
The question is whether we can navigate both journeys simultaneously without one derailing the other.
Only time will tell. But after last night, after this morning, I find myself hopeful in a way I never expected.
And hope, I'm discovering, is a dangerous, wonderful thing.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WYATT
Three days. Three nights of having Sophia in my bed, in my home, in my life. Three days of trying to maintain professional distance at the office while counting the minutes until we could be alone again. Three nights of discovering new ways to make her gasp my name, of falling asleep with her curved against me like she was made to fit there.
It feels too good. Too right. And that's exactly what's starting to scare the hell out of me.
I lean against the doorframe of my office, watching her through the glass wall of the conference room. She's deep in concentration, dark hair pulled back in that professional ponytail, fingers moving rapidly over her laptop keyboard. Every now and then she pauses, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear with a gesture I've come to recognize, then returns to her work.
