Page 12 of Challenged By the Rugged Lumberjack

Mason breaks the silence by yawning hugely, then rubbing his eyes with balled fists.

"Someone's getting tired," I murmur, brushing his curls back from his forehead. "We should probably head back soon."

Josh nods but makes no move to clear the table or usher us out. Instead, he asks, "How was town?"

"Good." I shift Mason to a more comfortable position. "I talked to Marge at the store—she's quite a character."

"That's one word for her."

"She was helpful, though. Told me who to talk to about jobs, where to find things we need." I hesitate, then add, "And warned me to steer clear of the 'mountain hermit' who doesn't like visitors."

Josh's eyebrow raises slightly. "That right?"

"She seemed surprised when I mentioned you'd helped us." I can't resist adding, "Said something about Carter men being trouble, but you didn't seem like trouble to me."

His expression shutters immediately, and I regret bringing it up. "Marge has a long memory," he says after a moment.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry—"

"You didn't." He stands, gathering our plates. "Small towns. Everyone knows everyone's business. Or thinks they do."

I nod, understanding all too well. "That's partly why I chose Cedar Falls, actually. I wanted somewhere small, somewhere I could... disappear, I guess. Become someone new." The admission slips out before I can stop it.

Josh pauses, plates in hand, staring at me with those piercing eyes. "Running from something?"

The question is direct, but his tone isn't accusatory. Still, I feel myself tense, old defenses rising.

"Isn't everyone?" I counter.

He holds my gaze for a long moment, then nods once, a gesture of acknowledgment—or perhaps recognition. He takes the dishes to the kitchen, and I hear water running in the sink.

"You don't have to wash up," I call. "You provided the venue, I'll clean."

"Already done," he replies, returning to the living room. He seems at a loss now that the meal is over, like he's not sure what the protocol is for having guests in a home that never sees them.

Mason has gone limp against me, his breathing deepening toward sleep. The fireplace's warmth and his heavy weight are making me drowsy too, the constant vigilance I've maintainedfor months now suspended in this cozy cabin with its taciturn owner.

"He likes you," I say, nodding toward my sleeping son. "He doesn't usually warm up to people so quickly."

Josh's expression softens as he looks at Mason. "He's a good kid."

"The best," I agree, kissing the top of his head. "I worry sometimes, though..." I trail off, not sure why I'm about to confide in this near-stranger.

Josh settles back into his chair, surprisingly at ease with the silence. He doesn't prompt me to continue, doesn't fill the gap with meaningless words. He just waits, patient as the mountain itself.

And maybe that's why I find myself speaking again. "I worry about him not having siblings close to his age. I always wanted a big family, kids close enough to be friends growing up."

It's a careful approach to the subject that's been weighing on me all day—the secret I've been carrying for sixteen weeks, the reason I finally found the courage to leave Jordan.

Josh's brow furrows slightly. "He's young. Plenty of time for that."

I take a deep breath, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Not as much time as you might think."

His eyes narrow, and he arches his eyebrows.

"I'm pregnant," I whisper, the words feeling strange in my mouth. I've never said them aloud before, not even to myself. "About four months along."

Josh goes very still, his gaze dropping briefly to my belly, then back to my face. I can't read his expression—surprise, certainly, but beyond that, I have no idea what he's thinking.

---