Page 14 of Teased By the Lumberjack

I rise on tiptoes, kissing him softly. "And maybe a few nights together in less soggy place?”

He laughs, the sound echoing through the sunlit forest. "I’ve got the perfect solution.”

CHAPTER 6

CONNOR

The door to room five of the Deepwood Inn swings shut behind us with a satisfying click. Teagan immediately flops onto the queen bed, arms splayed wide.

"Oh my god," she groans. "I never thought a mattress could feel this heavenly."

I drop our bags by the dresser and survey our temporary sanctuary—knotty pine walls, bright landscape prints, and the distinct woody scent of a mountain lodge that's been updated for modern comfort, but not stripped of cozy charm. It's dry, warm, and blissfully private after our soggy night in the tent.

"Better than roots digging into your back?" I ask, easing down beside her, the bed dipping under my weight.

She rolls toward me, those vibrant green eyes dancing. “Vastly. Though the company made up for the discomfort."

My lips quirk into a smile. "Smooth talker."

"I learned from the best." She kicks off her boots, letting them thud against the carpet. "Though I'm pretty sure I've still got half the forest in my hair."

I reach out, twirling a copper strand around my finger. "You wear it well. Like a forest nymph."

"A very dirty, very tired forest nymph." She stretches, her shirt riding up to reveal a strip of pale skin. My mouth waters.

My god, what this woman does to me.

I lie back, drawing her against me. She nestles close, head resting on my shoulder like she's been doing it for years instead of hours.

"I've been thinking about what you said," I murmur into her hair. "About combining our visions."

She tilts her face up. "And?"

"It's brilliant." I trace her jawline with my fingers. "The lumberjack camp as a living laboratory. Traditional knowledge meeting modern science."

She beams, practically glowing. "You really think so?"

"I know so." I shift to face her fully. "Your dissertation could document how selective harvesting affects forest health over time. Show that responsible logging isn't the enemy of conservation."

"And visitors would see both perspectives," she adds eagerly. "Learn how the ecological webs connect to human history in these mountains."

I nod, already envisioning it. "We could design the camp around demonstration areas—show how different harvesting techniques impact understory growth, wildlife habitat..."

"Track mycorrhizal network responses!" She sits up, excitement radiating from her. "Compare soil samples from undisturbed areas versus managed zones."

"Whoa, easy there, Professor." I laugh, tugging her back down. "We've got time to work out the scientific details."

She settles against me again, fingers tracing patterns on my chest. "It could be revolutionary, Connor. A true fusion of traditional knowledge and ecological research."

"Our legacy," I say, the word heavy with meaning.

Her hand stills. "Our?"

And there it is—the question hanging between us, larger than dissertations or tourist attractions. What are we to each other beyond this wild, unexpected collision of worlds?

I take a deep breath. "That's what I want it to be, Teagan. Ours. Not just the camp or your research, but a life together."

Her eyes widen. "Connor?—"

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