Page 11 of The Forbidden Mountain Man Lumberjack
"Okay." I'm not sure why he's telling me this, but something about his expression makes me add, "I'll see you back at the cabin later?"
He nods, the movement sharp. "I should be back around six. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you get hungry."
Is he concerned about me? The thought is both amusing and oddly warming.
"I'll be fine, Wyatt. Go run your company."
A half-smile quirks his lips. "Yes, ma'am."
The words are teasing, but there's something in his tone that sends a shiver down my spine. Before I can respond, he turns and walks toward his truck, leaving me staring after him like some lovesick teenager.
"Ready to roll?" Liam asks, breaking into my thoughts.
I nod, forcing my attention back to the job. "Absolutely."
The day with the hauling crew is educational and exhausting. I take pages of notes, asking questions about everything from load balancing to communication systems. Liam is patient andthorough, clearly proud of the operation while acknowledging its limitations.
"Truth is, miss," he tells me as we head back to Grizzly Ridge after a long day, "some digital tracking would help us coordinate better with the cutting crews. Sometimes we show up and the logs aren't ready, or we bring the wrong equipment for what they've cut."
"Have you mentioned this to Wyatt?"
Liam shrugs. "Boss has his ways. He's built something good here. Nobody wants to rock the boat."
But sometimes boats need to be rocked to prevent them from capsizing entirely.
It's nearly seven when we pull into the office parking lot. The sky is darkening, stars already visible above the mountains. I'm exhausted, covered in sawdust, and my notebook is full of insights that confirm my initial assessment: Brennan Logging is a well-run operation that could be exceptional with the right systems in place.
Now I just need to convince its stubborn owner.
I thank Liam and head to my car, surprised to find Wyatt leaning against it, arms crossed, waiting.
"You're late," he says, but there's no accusation in his tone.
"Mill tour ran long. Liam was very thorough." I stop in front of him. "You didn't have to wait."
"Wanted to make sure you made it back okay." His eyes run over me, assessing. "And that you could find your way to the cabin."
"I have GPS, you know."
"Which doesn't work half the time up here."
He's right, of course. My phone had lost signal repeatedly throughout the day.
"Well, thank you." I'm too tired to maintain our usual sparring. "It was thoughtful."
Something softens in his expression. "Hungry?"
I realize I am, desperately. The protein bar I'd eaten around noon is a distant memory. "Starving."
"I thought we could stop at Maggie's Diner in town. Best burgers in three counties." He pushes off my car, standing to his full height. "Unless you'd rather head straight back."
Is Wyatt Brennan asking me to dinner? The thought sends a flutter through my stomach that has nothing to do with hunger.
"A burger sounds perfect," I say before I can overthink it.
His smile in response is small but genuine, lighting his eyes in a way that makes him look younger, less guarded. "Follow me, then. Try to keep up."
As I slide into my car, I tell myself this isn't a date. It's two colleagues getting dinner after work. Nothing more.
