Page 7 of Lumberjack Bride
I clear my throat. “So, you and Claudia will have your little not-party while Bobby and I will, too. It’ll just be me, and him, and Pearl, with beer and pizza. That sounds nice, right?”
She nods. “I’ll allow it.”
Bobby rolls his eyes. “Yeah, all right.”
“And then...” I pull her closer with a firm hand wrapped around her waist. “The next night, we’ll be standing right here again at sunset.”
“And we’ll get married,” she says.
I smile. “Yes, we will.”
My lips graze her cheek and she blushes.
“Anyway...” Bobby groans. “I’m gonna go grab a drink because I’m still young and single and I can do whatever I want.”
“Bye, Bob,” I say, barely glancing away from Hazel’s smile.
As he walks away, Hazel slowly squints at me.
“And that’s why I didn’t let him plan you a bachelor party,” she says.
“Yeah,” I say. “Good call.”
Hazel takes a step back, letting her arms fall to my side. “Drive me home, please.”
I glance at our house behind us. “You are home,” I point out.
She tilts her head, flashes a soft smile, and walks off toward my truck in the driveway.
* * *
I parkin the circle drive just outside the hotel. The sun has already set by the time we arrive, leaving the only illumination a few dim lights surrounding the road outside.
Hazel pops open her seatbelt and slides it back. “Thanks for the ride,” she says, reaching for the door.
“Whoa, hey...” I pull the parking brake and the truck lurches slightly. “I’m walking you up.”
“You don’t have to walk me up.”
“It’s after dark,” I urge. “There could be any number of dangers lurking between here and your room.”
She scoffs. “Leo, this is Whitefish, Mont—”
I’m already on the pavement by the time she even says it. I shut the door behind me and catch her rolling her laughing eyes through the window.
We walk into the hotel and I give the front desk girl a wave. She smiles back at us, practically swooning just like everyone else who finds out why Hazel’s been living here for the last two weeks. I reach out and take her hand as we cross the open lobby, instantly drawing a high-pitched squeal from behind the desk.
We ride the elevator up to the fourth floor. Hazel fishes around her purse to find her key with her free hand while I keep a tight grip on the other.
“Leo...” She chuckles and gently tugs to try and free herself.
“Not yet,” I say, squeezing her fingers.
She pushes the door open but blocks me from walking inside. “No...” she says, her brow furrowed with warning.
“Just five minutes,” I beg. “Please.”
“Absolutely not.”