Page 171 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

She smiles. It’s brilliant. Beautiful.

And it anchors me when I feel like spiraling.

“Good,” she says. “Because I don’t want the internet version of you. I want the mountain man who argues about pizza toppings, and paints my living room, and kisses me like I’m oxygen.”

I huff out a laugh.

“You really are dangerous, you know that, Trouble?”

She shrugs. “I’ve been called worse.”

I run my hands down her arms slowly, grounding myself.

“By who? Gimme a name and I’ll knock their teeth in.”

“Shut up,” she teases.

But I’ll circle back to whoever’s ass needs kicking later.

“Okay,” I say. “We’ll fly down Friday. Opening’s Saturday night. Black tie-ish.”

Her eyes widen. “Black tie-ish?”

“Don’t panic.”

“I am absolutely panicking,” she says, grinning. “But in a fun way.”

I shake my head, still half stunned that she said yes without hesitation.

“You’re really doing this with me,” I murmur.

She nods once. Firm.

“If you’re not hiding anymore, neither am I,” she says. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it out loud.”

Out loud.

No more shadows.

No more half-steps.

I pull her back into my arms, slower this time.

“You have no idea what it means that you’re coming,” I tell her.

“I think I do,” she whispers.

I press a kiss to her forehead.

Then her temple.

Then her mouth.

Certain.

Then needy.

Desperate. Frantic.