None of those things were romantic, but they were necessary to tie up all the loose ends. This decision is final, I’m not giving it a trial run, and it’s my new life. My new life with my man, off the grid. Together.
Of course, the packing and planning might not have been very romantic, but we still had plenty of time for turning up the heat.
I feel like it was a huge accomplishment to get Sawyer to stay with me in the city while I got all of this sorted out. Every day I made sure I showed him just how grateful I was with his patience.
I showed him in my old bed. On the floor. In the shower. On the kitchen counter.
I think he got the idea.
I smile as heat spreads throughout my body at the memories we’ve made. I can’t wait to get to his log home and begin making a lot more.
“Ok, I’m good to go,” I smile at Sawyer and his face lights up as he grins back at me.
“It’s about time,” he teases me. Sawyer steps toward me and wraps his huge hand around the back of my head, pulling me in for an unhurried, sensual kiss. I can feel all the tension of the week drift from my limbs as the birds chirp in the trees around us. We’re beginning our journey back through the same forest that brought us together. Sawyer said it takes three days of hiking, but I’m up for the challenge.
“Let’s get started,” Sawyer murmurs and tilts his forehead against mine, looking at my lips with his intense brown eyes.
He steps back and lifts the rope for his toboggan, yanking it into action and I follow behind him. No wonder his body is like forged steel. He effortlessly guides the supplies over the snow while carrying even more on his broad, strong back.
I smile up at the bright blue sky and follow in his huge footprints. I’m ready for this.
I’m ready to start my life with him. To take each day as an adventure. To live my life in moments instead of hashtags. I’m ready to love and be loved like I’ve only ever watched in movies. I’m ready to let the years slip by into oblivion as we grow old in each other’s arms.
My heart is open.
I’m ready.
Epilogue
Ashley
I brush my hand over the freshly pulled carrots and small clumps of dirt fall back to the garden. Wiping my brow with the back of my free flowing, linen shirt, I look up at the enormous swatch of bright blue sky above.
Summer is beautiful everywhere, but here, at the cottage, every moment is a lesson in the marvels of the season. I close my eyes and lean back on my hand, letting the warm breeze tickle my skin. In the distance, I can hear the water of the lake lapping at the shoreline.
Peaceful doesn’t begin to explain this feeling. Perfection is a little closer. A shadow casts over me and I flutter my eyelids open to see Sawyer smiling down at me. On his line, he has two speckled trout hanging, ready to be turned into the freshest fillets anyone has ever tasted.
“Those will go perfect with the salad,” I tilt my head and hold out my hand to him. Sawyer easily lifts me to my feet and wraps his rough hand around my waist.
“How are you feeling today? You’re not pushing yourself too hard, are you?”
“I was literally just sitting in the dirt, picking vegetables. I’m not made of glass you know,” I scold him gently. The truth is, I love his concern.
Sawyer’s soft lips kiss a trail down the side of my sensitive neck and I don’t remember what I was saying. I moan and lean back into him, enjoying the pulses of bliss spreading through my skin.
“No, you’re much too sweet to be made of glass. Maybe sugar,” his breath billows over my collarbone as he murmurs to me. His hand protectively rests against my belly and I lean back into his hard body, feeling like there is nothing in this world he couldn’t protect me from.
Protect us from, I remind myself.
“I just don’t want you pushing yourself too hard when you’ve got our little bean sprouting up inside you.” He nips my earlobe and a jolt shoots through me.
“I’m not, don’t worry. I promise I’m taking it easy,” I reassure him for the hundredth time this week.
It was amazing how quickly the change came. One day, Sawyer was teasing me for how little firewood I could chop, or giving me a hard time for how little water I could haul. The day we found out I was pregnant all of that changed. Out with the good-natured ribbing about my not being able to keep up, and in with the pampering. At this rate, I’ll be delivering while he fans me with fern fronds and feeds me wild blueberries one by one.
Not that I mind. There’s something sexy about a man who takes care of his woman. Takes care of his family.
“Let’s get you out of this heat,” Sawyer jerks his head toward the cottage and lifts the basket of food I’ve been gathering, with his free hand.
Cottage doesn’t do our house justice. More like a log chalet perched on a mountainside with the sparkling lake a mere hundred feet away from the front door. I love sitting out on the balcony at night, listening to the crickets and watching the brightest stars I’ve ever seen light up the sky.
When I look out over our property and see the fireflies dancing over the lawn, it’s impossible not to feel the magic of childhood course through your veins. Like dreams can still come true.
Mine did.
Even the childhood dream I once had of having Belle’s library is now a reality I enjoy. Catcher in the Rye might be our favorite book, but it’s far from the only one in our house. Sawyer has a two-story loft wall filled from the floor to the rafters, with books. I asked him why he built it and he said winters are long. Every time he cracked the cover of a book, it was like an instant escape from the desolation and loneliness the icy landscape brought. Some people take trips to Florida to escape the winter blues. We read.
I follow Sawyer into the house and smile, knowing this hot, lazy day turns to a tranquil night and that will blur into another long, summer day, until it’s a new season. Then the weather will be different, but our lives will be the same. Even when our baby decides to enter the world, we’ll still live a simple life where happiness and togetherness mean more than anything else.
“I love you,” I whisper and lean into Sawyer as we walk up the front stairs of the cottage together.
“I love you just a tiny bit more,” he smiles and kisses my hand gently. He loves to say that, no matter how much I protest or pout, he won’t relent that his love is just an iota stronger, just runs centimeters deeper, is just a bit wider than mine.
Today I don’t argue. Instead, I smile. Let him think he loves me more. Let me think I love him more. If that’s our biggest disagreement, then I think we’ve got it pretty good.
Pretty perfect, really. I throw my arm around his waist and snuggle in against his hard shoulder letting the moment marinate in my soul. Enjoying every second, of every day that I have with him on this earth.
And living it to the fullest.
THE END
* * *
About the Author
Eddie Cleveland was born and raised on the Canadian East Coast. He spent most of his twenties having reckless adventures before going back to school for pottery and graphic arts. With his travel itch still not fully scratched, he joined the Royal Canadian Navy, serving for 12 years with multiple deployments to South America and the Middle East. He recently released from the Canadian Armed Forces to pursue his passion of writing full-time. Saved by the Woodsman is his fourth novel. You can check out his other works below. Join Mailing List or Check out Facebook Page
Check out Eddie’s Bad Boy Series
Quickies with Eddie
This is a light, fun group for fans of Eddie Cleveland to collaborate on a weekly short smutty story (think 5-7k erotic shorts).
These steamy tales will go out each week, for FREE, to his newsletter subscribers as exclusive content.
Throughout the week we will discuss the plot, settings and characters for the following week’s story.
/>
Saved by the Woodsman Page 14