Page 46 of Liberated By the Logger

I’m sure I’ve got the dopiest smile plastered on my face, but I don’t care. I’ve got something to smile about and everyone is going to hear about it.

Proud as a strutting peacock, I grin at the clerk while motioning with my thumb at Aspen. “She’s moving in with me.”

“Congrats,” the guy says in a monotone voice as he rings up our order, seemingly uninterested or jealous.

Yeah, probably totally jealous. And who wouldn’t be?

I’ve got Aspen Fair—the most breathtakingly beautiful woman in the Rockies—agreeing to not only being my woman, but sharing a home with me.

What more could a man want?

I gaze lovingly at Aspen as she bounces excitedly beside me, waiting for the clerk to hand us our packing materials. Her green eyes sparkle with enthusiasm as she stares longingly back at me, making my heart squeeze like she’s hugging me with her pretty smile.

Okay, I want more—a lot more. A ring is definitely next on the list.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ASPEN

Four years of undergrad, two years of graduate, and four course-packed years of a doctorate, including a massive thesis and defending my dissertation, have brought me to this moment. A black shapeless gown with a hood and a black cap with a gold tassel is my outfit for this special occasion.

“Now presenting our graduates for Doctor of Philosophy in Forest Science,” the university Dean announces into the microphone on the makeshift stage in Canvas Stadium on the Colorado State University campus.

Names of those in my program are called in alphabetic order of surname. I stand stiffly beside my advisor, trying to demonstrate decorum instead of bouncing excitedly in place like I want to.

My school days are finally complete. How can I not be giddy?

After all these years of study, I’ve achieved my goal—I’m officially a Forest Scientist. All that’s left is to walk across the stage.

“Aspen Cherlyn Fair.”

The audience claps politely. But one lone person lets out a thunderous cheer, echoing around the stadium.

“WOOHOO! Yeah! That’s my woman. You go, darlin’!”

My face heats as I walk to the center of the stage to face the audience. My advisor stands behind me, placing my hood over my head to settle on my shoulders. It feels a tad surreal as I’m handed my diploma, smile through a few camera flashes from the ceremony photographer, all while my wild Mountain Man whistles obnoxiously in the crowd.

Shaking my head with a chuckle, I wave at Brose and my family in the crowd before heading off the stage back to my seat.

As much as I want to go straight to Brose and tell him to take me to bed, this ceremony hasn’t ended, and the day is far from done. I internally groan as I recall we have guests to entertain.

My parents, grandparents, siblings and their families have flown in for the special occasion. I told Brose I didn’t need a party to celebrate. All I needed was him. He was strangely insistent my family be present for the occasion, muttering something about it being “the perfect timing.”

I wasn’t too sure what Brose meant, but I wouldn’t argue with him wanting all my family here to celebrate my big milestone. My life is full of milestones these days with a hunky mountain man, always surprising me with endless love and constant support.

When I spontaneously agreed to moving into a cabin in the Rocky Mountains with a man more rugged than the surrounding nature after only meeting him twenty-four hours prior, most of my family and peers thought I cracked under the pressure of my studies. Many tried to convince me Brose’s and my relationship was moving too quickly, that I would regret jumping from one relationship right into the next without working on myself first. Several others explained it was dangerous to get deeply involved with a practical stranger.

To be fair, had this happened to anyone I cared about, having not experienced the instant connection I did with Brose, I would have thought the same. My family and friends’ concerns were natural given the circumstances, but unnecessary—they weren’t living my experience and had no clue how right everything felt with Brose as my partner.

The last six months have flown by faster than the last twenty-eight years of my life, and I have Brose to thank for it. Not that my course work was boring, but my life was staunchly routine. My studies came first, and everything else second, although the “everything else” in my life was rather dull, even when I dated a weed smoking yurt lover.

School was still my priority—something Brose strongly supported. He understood how important my studies were to me and respected the time I needed to complete whatever course work or studying I deemed necessary. He’d help me anyway he could, by bringing me supper to one of the upstairs bedrooms he converted into an office for me or read through my dissertation to give me feedback when asked. With my education, all that Brose wanted was to help me succeed. It was the “everything else” my man made the opposite of dull.

After long hours of him working in the mountains with his logging crew and me out conducting my course research in the park, his day would be done and mine was far from it. Yet, Brose seemed to know when I needed a break, stating I was rubbing at my eyes too much and doing the heavy sighing thing again as an indicator I needed to stop for the night or take a thirty-minute breather.

Evening walks on the trails around our property is our time to decompress, share the events of the day, and enjoy the nature we love around us. The times I get stubborn about quitting for the night, he hoists me out my chair like I weigh nothing, throws me over his shoulder like a bag of game feed, and takes me to bed where he works my body over until I pass out for the evening.

After the first time of him doing this, I’ll never admit to him I’d get obstinate all the times after on purpose, all because I love nothing more than him going all mountain man on me. Although, I’m sure if he’s caught on to me by now, he plays along. He loves my sass—fake or not—and he loves to fuck it right out of me.