Page 104 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

“Pick,” he says.

The prizes are absurd. Oversized stuffed animals. Glittery plastic crowns. Something that might be a neon octopus.

I point at a huge plush shaped like a flower—it’s almost as big as my torso.

He doesn’t hesitate.

When he hands it to me, I clutch it to my chest and laugh.

“This is ridiculous.”

“You like ridiculous,” he says quietly.

He’s right.

I do.

We drift toward the edge of the carnival where it’s darker, quieter. The Ferris wheel turns slowly behind us, lights reflecting in his eyes.

And suddenly my thoughts catch up with me.

Can I do this?

Can I actually let myself fall into something like this with a man who already pushed me away once?

The memory of that morning hits like cold water.

Coffee on the stove.

Clothes folded neatly.

“I have work to do.”

Like I was an inconvenience he needed to clear off his mountain.

My chest tightens.

He notices.

Of course he does.

“You okay?” he asks, voice softer now.

I nod automatically. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t buy it.

He steps closer, not touching me yet, but near enough that I can feel his warmth.

“You’re thinking,” he says.

“Dangerous hobby.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “About?”

I look up at him.

At this man who chased off a bear for me.