“So what if I do like her? What’s the worst that could happen?” It’s a question I immediately regret asking. “I’m sorry,” I tell him, knowing he’s thinking about his ex. I’m hyperaware of his insecurities regarding failed relationships, even more than my own.

“I just want you to protect yourself. And your heart. That’s all. So who is she?” I start to walk toward the barn, and he follows.

“Her name is Claire Chester and…” I think on this for a couple of seconds too long. He lifts his eyebrows, waiting. “She said she’s in real estate.”

“That’s it? That’s all you know about her?” He presses his hand to my forehead. “No fever.”

“I know she talks in her sleep and likes baths the same temperature as mine. I know she has stupid expensive boots that ain’t good for nothin’, and she’s hard on herself when she shouldn’t be. I also know she loves Christmas and snow globes and pretends to be tough as nails, but it’s all an act. She has a soft side and can’t cook for shit. She also drinks her coffee like a serial killer. And sometimes, she gets so overwhelmed that panic attacks take over. She’s dated asshole men and has a chip on her shoulder because of it. But she’s kind, a little shy, and has no street smarts. Stubborn as hell, though. So, if you’re wondering, I know a lot about her. The real her. Not the bullshit you brag to your family about. None of that matters to me, anyway.”

He huffs. “Well, I stand corrected. When do I get to meet her?”

I shrug. “Christmas dinner?”

“Sooner than that. I ran into Hank, and he said he was planning a get-together at the bar. If he does, you should bring her, let her meet everyone at once.” He places his hand on my shoulder. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

I give him a nod, then we go our separate ways. He means well. I know he does. But no one has experienced Claire in the ways I have. I might not know everything about her everyday life, but do I need to? She’s leaving. That much is certain. So, in a way, the less I know about her, the less to fall in love with. And at the end of the day, that’s better for us both.

Just as I predicted, time is soaring. Randomly throughout the day, I text Claire silly selfies. She’s a good sport and texts funny faces back.

Jake

You’re adorable.

Claire

Keep telling me that, and I might begin believing it.

I send her a picture of me leaning against the truck.

Jake

Could use a lumberjackqueline right about now.

My joke makes me chuckle, but I gulp when she sends me a picture of her in my bathroom, standing in her bra and panties. Her nipples are rock hard, and she’s chewing on the corner of her lip. She’s not looking at the camera but rather down at her phone, with her brown hair flipped over on one side.

Claire

Could use a lumberjack right about now.

“Fuck,” I hiss, ready to throw this chainsaw on the lowboy full of cut trees and go home. Not like I would get fired, but I also take pride in being a team player. My cock grows hard thinking about her naked in my shower.

I force the thoughts away and think about abandoned kittens. I try to move my thoughts to anything other than her. But when I close my eyes, I envision being buried between her legs as she moans out my name.

“Jake!” I hear a deep voice say.

It’s not the tone I wish was yelling my name right now. I turn around and see my brother Lucas walking toward me with a smirk. He’s in his early thirties, but people always think he’s my twin.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, wanting little Jakey to calm the fuck down as I keep my body facing the metal of the truck.

“What’s up?” I say, readjusting myself.

“Are you okay?” His face contorts. “You look ill. Hudson warned me that you were lovesick, but damn, I didn’t realize it was literal.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m fine. And don’t listen to him. He’s just mad a stork didn’t drop a pretty woman on his doorstep.”

Lucas nearly doubles over laughing. “You’re wrong for that.”

I wait for him to catch his breath. “Yeah?”