Page 105 of Wood Riddance
His words loosened the vise constricting my chest. It sounded so juvenile, but I’d learned the hard way that relationships had to be carefully defined. “Okay. How about this? If you even look at another woman, I’ll cut your balls off and feed them to Clive and make you watch while you bleed out slowly in the snow.”
“That’s very specific.” He laughed. “And dark. I gotta say, I love that you’re the jealous, possessive type.”
“You don’t get to talk, Mr. I-had-a-nervous-breakdown-over-a-flannel-shirt-in-public.”
With a low growl, he pulled me onto his lap and looped his arms around me, enveloping me with his scent. “I stand by my choices. I didn’t want another man’s shirt touching your precious skin.” He kissed the top of my head. “You’re mine. I’m glad we’ve established this, because I’ve got other plans for the night.”
He bit my earlobe, and I wiggled in his lap, loving the feel of his body wrapped around mine.
“Can we take this slowly?” I asked, holding my breath. How could I even begin to explain myself to someone like him? He was open and authentic. And I had long ago closed myself behind a fortress lined with barbed wire and surrounded by a crocodile-infested moat.
“I want to work on getting there,” I explained. “But telling my family will be difficult. If we’re going to do this right and make it last, I need a bit more time.”
He stroked my cheek. “We can face them together.”
I watched the fire as we sat wrapped around one another. This perfect bubble was going to burst when we got back to Lovewell, and the thought made me sick.
“This special thing between us?” I asked. “Can we keep it this way a little longer? A week or two?”
“Of course,” he murmured. “It feels impossible to keep my feelings for you a secret, but I’ll do anything to make you happy.”
“It’s that it feels so good. And I’ve never had anything feel like this.”
“Me neither,” he admitted, running his nose along my neck and behind my ear. “It scares me too.”
He was so good. So solid and so kind. How could I ever deserve someone like him? Dammit. That thought had tears welling in my eyes. With a deep breath in, I fought them back. I didn’t want to ruin this perfect night, this perfect weekend, with my tears. But they wouldn’t be contained.
“Thank you.” I hiccuped. “Thank you for understanding me and my anxieties. Thank you for pushing past all my walls and defense mechanisms and insecurities.”
He kissed me and held my face for a moment, watching me with so much intensity and affection I swore my heart would burst from the way he made me feel. How could someone so large and intimidating be so gentle and tender?
“I’ll never stop,” he said. “I’ll never stop fighting for you and loving you.”
That was it. My heart was a goner. Was he really saying what I thought he was saying?
“Yup.” He smiled, clearly reading my mind. “I love you, She-Ra. You don’t have to say or do anything. But I don’t play games and I don’t hide my feelings. So I’m telling you now—I’m wildly, madly in love with you. I want to spend every day with you, learn every single thing about you, and spend every minute I have on this earth making you smile.”
He stood, effortlessly cradling me in his arms. “Now I’m taking you to bed. Because my dream girl needs multiple orgasms and a good night’s sleep.”
Chapter35
Adele
In Maine, the majority of logging took place during the winter months. The frozen ground makes cutting, hauling, and driving a lot easier. It also protects the forest undergrowth and immature trees, ensuring our ability to keep our forests healthy.
Technically, we cut all year round, but we limited those cuts to specific locations in the shoulder seasons, or specific species of trees like specialty stuff that might be in high demand.
Summers were spent repairing, surveying, and grading roads—the single most important resource we had.
And every summer, there were fights and disputes and so much bullshit I threatened to quit.
The cherry on top of the shit sundae this summer? Henri wanted me to join the upcoming meeting of the families. No, we did not belong to the mafia, but sometimes it felt like it, especially with the sheer volume of blood feuds between us.
Four families jointly owned the Golden Road, the private logging road that stretched from Lovewell all the way to Quebec. All of our land holdings intersected the road, so the four companies came together to manage all business and any issues that pertained to the roads.
These meetings were misery. The Gagnons, the Heberts, the LeBlancs, and the Clarks tolerated each other, but things had been breaking down over the last couple of years. We’d always been in competition, but the bad blood between the Gagnons and the Heberts had now extended to everyone.
Each family’s business had been impacted by Mitch Hebert, and for the last several months, the roads had been crawling with law enforcement, slowing down production and straining our tenuous allegiances further.
