Page 24 of The Forbidden Mountain Man Lumberjack
There's a wariness in his posture, a distance in his eyes that wasn't there this morning when he kissed me goodbye, his hands lingering at my waist as if reluctant to let me go.
"What happened today, Wyatt?" I ask, deciding direct is best. "Everything was fine when we left for work, and then suddenly you could barely look at me."
He moves to the dying fire, adding a log from the stack beside the hearth. The flames catch, illuminating his profile as he crouches there, watching the wood ignite instead of facing me.
"The investors called Tim today," he says finally. "They're pushing for your report. Eager to implement changes."
"That's hardly a surprise. It's why I'm here."
"They also asked if you'd made any headway with my 'resistance to modernization.'" He stands, turning to face me fully. "Their words were less charitable."
Understanding begins to dawn. "And you think I've been what, reporting back to them? Strategizing with them behind your back?"
The slight flinch in his expression tells me I've hit the mark.
"Have you?" he asks, his voice betraying nothing.
The question stings more than it should. "I've sent them weekly progress updates, as required by my contract. Nothing more, nothing less. You've known about those from day one."
"And what have you been telling them?" His jaw tightens. "That I'm stubborn? Resistant? A dinosaur who needs to be dragged into the modern era?"
"Is that really what you think of me?" I take a step back, hurt blooming in my chest. "After everything we've shared?"
He rubs a hand over his beard, frustration evident. "I don't know what to think. Mike mentioned a new hauling schedule being tested. Something you implemented without discussing with me first."
Ah. Now we're getting to it.
"I absolutely discussed it with you," I counter. "Two nights ago, right here in this living room. You said, and I quote, 'Let Liam try it if he thinks it'll help.' I have the email thread with him confirming your approval."
He frowns, clearly trying to recall the conversation. "I don't remember that."
"We were reviewing the hauling data. You were distracted, kept playing with my hair while I was explaining the potential efficiency gains." Despite everything, the memory brings a flush of warmth. "But you definitely approved it."
Something in his expression shifts, softens slightly. "I was distracted. By you."
"That's not my fault," I say, though without heat. "I've been completely transparent about my work here, Wyatt. I've shown you every analysis, every recommendation before anyone else sees it. I've asked for your input at every stage."
"While sleeping in my bed." The words come out harsher than I think he intended.
I flinch, the implication clear. "Are you suggesting I've been using sex to manipulate you into accepting my recommendations?"
"No," he says quickly. "That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean? Because it sounds an awful lot like you think I've been playing you."
He sighs, dropping heavily onto the couch. "I don't know what I think. It's all gotten so tangled. Professional. Personal. I can't separate them anymore."
I sit beside him, maintaining a careful distance. "I've kept everything separate in my reports. Nothing about our personal relationship has influenced my professional assessment of your business."
"But that's just it," he says, looking at me with troubled eyes. "Maybe it should. Maybe sleeping with the client should make you question whether you can be objective."
The formal term—client—cuts deeper than it should. "Is that all you are to me? A client?"
"Isn't it what I'm supposed to be?" He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "You're twenty-four, Sophia. You have a career ahead of you, ambitions beyond Grizzly Ridge. I'm forty-five with roots so deep in this mountain they'd have to cut me out like a tree to move me."
"I never asked you to move," I say quietly.
"You didn't have to." His voice softens. "But this ends, eventually. You finish your consultation. You submit your final report. You leave for the next job, the next challenge. And I stay here, implementing changes I'm not sure I believe in, remembering what it felt like to have you here."
