Page 8 of Lumberjack Bride

“And why not?”

“Because I know what you’re capable of in just five minutes.”

I lean in, filling my nose with her sweet scent. “Okay...” I sigh, reaching out to draw a line along her cheek. “Just kiss me goodbye and I’ll be on my way.”

She presses her lips together and leans away from me.

My jaw drops. “Oh, come on.”

“I don’t think we should tempt it, Leo. You’re not the only one turning blue down there...”

“You won’t even kiss me?” I ask. “We kissed goodbye last night.”

“I know.”

“And the night before that.”

“I know that, too... but...” She smiles. “It’s just two more nights.”

I stare straight ahead into her room, feeling the strong urge to pick her up and throw her onto that bed until she’s screaming my name. “I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

She straightens the collar on my flannel. “Just imagine how wonderful our wedding night will be,” she whispers. “Just me and you and—”

“All that pent-up sexual frustration,” I mutter.

“Exactly.”

I exhale, giving up, but I’m not ready to go home yet. I lean my head against the doorframe, admiring Hazel in the bright lights of the hallway.

“I miss you,” I tell her.

“I miss you,” she says.

“Pearl does, too.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“She’s moping around the house,” I say, laughing. “Whining at the door, hoping you’ll come walking back in.”

“Aww.” She throws on a pout. “Poor girl.”

“She’s mad at me, obviously. Probably thinks I did something to piss you off.”

“Well, you tell Pearl that I’ll be home soon.”

“Just two more nights,” I say.

“Just two more nights,” she parrots back.

I catch sight of the brown box lying on her bed. “What’s that?” I ask.

She turns to look. “Oh, just a few things Nana had sent over,” she answers, waving a hand. “Still trying to find somethingold for my wedding day attire and she found some old stuff of Mom’s in storage, so I figured I’d take a look...”

I watch as a little color drains from her face. Hazel’s parents have been gone a year and a half now. We met shortly after their funerals and while she’s always been bright and strong in front of me, I’ll sometimes see her in moments of subtle sadness. I can’t imagine what that must feel like. And I don’t want to.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay?” I ask. “Might find something blue in there.”

She forces a smile. “No, I’ll be fine.” She points a finger. “There’s no way you’re getting past this threshold, so knock it off.”