Page 69 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

It’s curiosity.

And something else.

Hope, maybe. The cautious kind.

Because Willow doesn’t look like a woman who’s ever been the other woman.

She looks like a woman who knows exactly what she has with her man. And maybe she knows exactly why Greyson is behaving this way.

Also, she’s not threatened by me.

Which is not confusing as hell.

I glance down at Greyson’s flannel on my body. Inhale his scent. Feel my pulse stumble.

“I shouldn’t—” I start, because I know better than to linger where I’m not wanted.

Willow’s smile softens.

“You don’t have to stay,” she says gently. “But you’re here. And you’re shaken. And Greyson is, well, he’s got a lot of baggage, but I’m guessing it’s worth it to the right someone.”

Thatcher adds, deadpan, “He’s the grumpiest bastard on this mountain, and that’s saying something coming from me.”

Willow elbows him, but she’s smiling.

Then she looks back at me, eyes warm and direct.

“What do you say, Clara?” she asks. “Breakfast and the truth?”

Maybe it’s because I’m a writer and the mystery is clawing at me.

Maybe it’s because my pride wants answers.

Maybe it’s because my heart—stupid, bruised, hungry—needs to know if last night meant anything at all.

I swallow.

Then I nod.

“Okay,” I whisper. “Breakfast and a chat. Sounds good.”

Chapter 13

Clara

Thatcher doesn’t talk much as he drives us down the other side of the mountain, but that’s okay—because Willow could hold a conversation with a brick wall and somehow make it laugh.

She sits in the passenger seat like she belongs there, one hand resting on her belly, the other gesturing animatedly as she points things out through the windshield.

“That ridge right there?” she says. “Best view in the fall. Like, stupid gorgeous. I cried the first time I saw it. Thatcher made fun of me for weeks.”

Thatcher’s mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile.

“You did cry,” he rumbles, eyes on the road. “Like a Hallmark commercial. And I teased, I did not make fun. But only because I love you like crazy, Baby Girl.”

Willow gasps, scandalized. “It was a very moving scene. Don’t act like you didn’t get misty-eyed when you saw the moose that one time.”

“I did not,” Thatcher says automatically.