Chopped

by Charles, Colleen

  My back hits the dirt, stealing the breath from my lungs. Panic overwhelms me as I feel my head strike a branch, stars peppering my vision. I can hear the wolf panting.

  Growling.

  Salivating.

  Breathing its hot, fetid breath on my forehead.

  Then my world fades to black.

  Chapter Five

  Gray

  “Hank! Hank, come!”

  Damn dog. Always getting the scent of some animal and trotting off to explore. If it’s a rabbit, I’m fine with it, because I love roasted rabbit. But occasionally, it’s a skunk, involving a tomato juice bath and stinking to high heaven for days. When that happens, his dog bed gets relegated to the front porch where he whines and paws and groans until I take pity on him and let him in to the dismay of my nostrils.

  Tilting my head, I hear his distinct bark coming from a copse of trees about a hundred yards away. He’s a silent hunter, so the fact that he’s creating a racket doesn’t bode well. I imagine a wounded deer, and I palm my rifle, glad I brought it along so I can put the poor animal out of its misery if the situation warrants it.

  The twigs snap and slap at my face as I hustle through the woods, going off the beaten path. Getting to Hank quickly means going as the crow flies and not on the worn-down path I’ve created when I harvest my firewood and take walks to calm my mind and body.

  Before I see him, I hear his tail whacking everything within a three-foot radius. A low whine escapes him as I break through the tree line just in time to see him pawing the ground, a pair of demolished glasses in his mouth like one of his prized rabbits. The sight sends a chill through me.

  What the hell?

  The breath leaves my lungs when I spot the body, unmoving and prone on the forest floor. I don’t know if it’s dead or alive. Nothing. My legs move into Carl Lewis mode and despite my huge size, I run toward it and crouch down. It’s a woman. A teeny-tiny woman. She just lays there, immobile, so I lean in and check for any signs of life. Feeling for her pulse, I heave a sigh of relief when it flutters in her wrist. A tiny cough escapes her full lips and she inhales a straggling breath. I wonder if Hank knocked her down and stole the breath from her lungs, or if she’d already fallen when my dog found her.

  “Whoa, there,” I say as she struggles to lift her head but then lets it fall back to the dirt and leaves with a resounding thump.

  It feels natural to support her petite body with the back of my hand and hold her as she orients herself. When her eyes snap open, my heart flips over. Green. The color of the forest that I love. They’re unique. Unusual. She blinks a few times and then squints. Then I remember that Hank has her glasses in his huge mouth, slobbering all over them. But when she fell, it appears they became collateral damage.

  As if on cue, Hank stumbles over and drops the glasses on her stomach. She reaches out and holds them up to her eyes, straining again to see without them.

  I swallow my fear and meet her gaze. “Ah, I think they broke when you fell.”

  “Wh… what happened?” Her breathy voice hits me square in the middle of my chest. It sounds like sunshine… joy… all that’s right with a world gone crazy. I shake my head. Now is not the time to notice her beautiful heart-shaped face, alabaster skin, and filled-out figure. Not to mention her raven hair, escaping the confines of her ponytail.

  She’s the one. The woman from your illicit fantasies.

  I clear my throat. “I’m not sure, really. My dog started moaning and that’s not like him, so I broke through the trees and… here you were. Laying on the ground and not moving. Does your head hurt? Should I check for broken bones? I have training in first aid.”

  A possible head injury concerns me since medical facilities are miles away. With my huge palm, I softly press around the back of her skull, checking for blood or swelling. Everything seems normal, but she probably shouldn’t walk. My cabin’s not far. I can carry her back. She probably only weighs as much as a couple of big logs.

  She pushes her mangled glasses on her face, and I suppress a smile at how ridiculous she looks with them hanging from her nose. But still, her eyes widen in surprise as they focus on me for the first time. “You’re huge! You look like one of the trees surrounding us. A man-tree. Are you real?” She reaches down and pinches herself on the stomach. “Ouch! Okay, so you’re not Paul Bunyan and I’m not hallucinating. Do you have an ax? Are you going to kill me? Damn, I promised my mom and dad when I went to get my Ph.D. in botany that nothing bad would ever happen to me during my research.”

  Botany? Doctorate?

  “You’re a doctor?” I stammer, completely overwhelmed by my body’s reaction to this tiny person.

  A tiny, perfect person I obviously could never have outside of this forest.

  “Not yet. All I have to do is turn in my thesis. And in order to do that, I have to get a sample from the Minnesota Dark Aspen.” She hisses out a gasp and feels behind her. All that does is push her exquisite tits toward my face. They’re full and firm and would fit perfectly in the palms of my large mitts. Too big for her body but ideal for the size of my hands. I look away, demanding my twitching dick to stand down as she reaches around and pats. “My backpack. Oh, thank God. It’s still here. It has all my samples.”

  “Samples?” It’s not lost on me that I sound like a parroting moron.

  She heaves a sigh. “Leaves. Bark. Twigs.”

  I glance around. “You stole my leaves, bark, and twigs? This is my forest, lady, in case you didn’t know. I own it. You’re trespassing. Seeing as how you’re becoming a doctor, I’m surprised you didn’t read the no trespassing signs.”

  She clamps her eyes shut. “I’m sorry. My college advisor tried to contact the owner of this land to get permission since it’s the only place within traveling distance that has the aspen tree I need. But we weren’t able to get ahold of anyone. Since I’m not doing anything but taking a tiny sample and being very respectful, we thought it would be okay… ouch!”

  She rubs her back and pouts those full lips. A fist forms in my gut, twisting underneath the force of my lust.

  “Did you hurt your back when you fell?” I ask, reaching out to touch her and see for myself but then snatching my hand back.

  A sigh rips through her, blowing her bangs up in the air. “I don’t know. Everything hurts. Everything. Even my hair.”

  This time, when my hand snakes out to chase away the foliage in those thick locks, I don’t stop it. “That’s because your hair is full of twigs and leaves. Maybe you can use them as samples.”

  She snorts a laugh. “As if. My samples have to be alive and uncontaminated. Once they hit the forest floor, they’re of no use from a scientific standpoint.”

  I sling her backpack over my shoulder and then lean down. Her eyes widen into saucers, and she braces herself. “No need to get scared, miss. Just this once, I’ll look past your thievery. And I think you need to rest before you hightail it on out of here. My cabin isn’t far away. I’ll get you some herbal tea and a cold pack for your back.”

  “I can walk, thank you very much.” But as soon as she tries to rise, she falls back down with a wince of pain. Her eyes scan the length of my body. Everywhere her gaze falls, I tingle and jolt with the lust that’s been building for years. Boiling up, trying to escape, only to get tamped down again and again. As it swirls and tornadoes through my body, I fear it’s going to explode. “And I don’t need to rest.”

  My eyes narrow. If she thinks I’m letting her fall again, she’s sorely mistaken. “I’m carrying you. And that’s that.”

  Hank’s tail thumps against the tree trunk behind us in agreement as he noses in to see what’s going on. A spot of drool hits the leaves right next to her, but instead of pursing those lips in disgust, she reaches out and pats the hound on his head.

  “Nice, doggy. What’s your name?”

  I run my hand down my face, feeling the long, thick beard covering it. No need for shaving out here and it helps having facial hair in the harsh win
ter cold. I imagine what I must look like and realize it’s no wonder she’s afraid of me. Even though I know she has nothing to be afraid of, she doesn’t. I’m more Grizzly Adams than Unabomber, but I do look like a feral mountain man due to my life choices.

  As I scoop her up into my arms, I say, “His name’s Hank.”

  With wide eyes, she reaches out and touches my beard. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a slightly smaller version of Paul Bunyan? I half expected your dog to be named Babe instead of Hank. I have a cat. Her name is Fern.”

  Of course, you do.

  The corners of my mouth twitch, and I wonder if it’s the smack on the head or if this is her normal personality. I guess I’ll find out over the course of the next few hours. If anything, I’ll enjoy the company of a beautiful woman for the first time in a very long time.

  She should stay.

  The devil on my shoulder tugs at my beard, demanding to be heard, but the angel reaches over and slaps him.

  She should leave, bonehead. Women equal danger. And pain.

  As if she weighs nothing, I lope through the forest toward my cabin. If the branches pepper my body, I don’t feel it. My body’s been buzzing ever since I laid eyes on this tiny woman. When she snakes her hands around my neck and hangs on for dear life, something snaps inside me. It feels so good. So right.

  It feels like something I want to feel forever.

  Something I need.

  Before I know what’s happening, she snuggles in closer, those perfect tits hovering dangerously close to my chest. “Don’t kill me, lumberjack savior. My dad will be really unhappy if I get chopped up into tiny pieces. He’s a powerful man.”

  “I’ve yet to kill someone,” I grunt, the weight of my rifle and her backpack heavy across my shoulder blades. I don’t even kill animals unless I’m going to eat them.

  “How far away am I from the motel?” she asks on a sigh.

  I veer to avoid a fallen log. “Hours by foot, and I don’t have a car. Guess I never found any need for one.”

  I hear her exhale and she shuts her eyes. As I sniff the humid air, my knee creaks and moans. I injured it playing football in high school and now every time it rains, the bum knee protests.

  It’s fucking going to rain. There’s no way I can let her walk miles back to town in the weather, injured and not herself. Before I get a hundred yards from my cabin, the first big, fat drop of rain hits me in the face. I tuck her underneath my shoulder to shield her from the worst of it, but the skies open up a few seconds later and the rain comes down in sheets, drenching us both in the warm water. Summer storms up here can be brutal. Weather rolls in off Lake Superior and it can change on a dime, turning violent.

  A flash of lightning splits the sky and seconds later, a boom of thunder blisters my ears. A shiver flutters through her petite body, and I hold her closer, as if doing that could shield her from a torrential downpour. My large body covers her as best it can, and I increase my speed, running toward the porch and cover.

  Once I get her safely underneath the overhang, I let her slide down my body, enjoying every single sensation of her weight against mine. Her feet hit the floorboards, but I don’t let go. At this point, I have no idea if she’s able to stand on her own. My hands stay glued to her shoulders, and I glance down into her face. She peeks up at me and her emerald eyes narrow into slits. Hank stands beside us and heaves his huge body into a shake. Droplets of water fly everywhere as his massive jowls slap together.

  “Can you stand?”

  She looks down at her feet as if they have the answer. “Let go of me and we’ll find out.”

  I shake my head. “No. I don’t want you falling again. If you really hurt yourself this time, we’re hours away from medical help. I’ll hold your hand and you see if you can walk.”

  Her ragged words contain a trace of fear. “What’s your name, lumberjack? If you tell me it’s Paul, I’ll lose my shit.”

  My grin overtakes the real estate on my face. “What’s the color of the sky right now?”

  Her teeth tug that lush lower lip between them. I’ve never been so envious of teeth before in my life.

  Her tiny nostrils flare as she regards me. “What kind of a mother names her son Black?”

  I chuckle, a rumbling sound that rips through my entire chest cavity. Damn, it feels sensational. I can’t remember the last time I laughed. “Not Black, Gray.”

  The lightbulb goes off inside her head and it puts my mind at ease. I wanted to test her mental faculties without embarrassing her. Protecting this woman already feels like my mission.

  My duty.

  She reaches out a hand to shake mine. “Nice to meet you, Gray. I’m Dove.”

  Despite the gloom and moisture around us, my world lights up like a thousand bolts of lightning. Dove. I can’t ever remember a name so perfect for the woman who holds it.

  “Let’s get you inside and warm you up.”

  Holding her tiny hand in mine, I tug her forward and inside the cabin. Once I’m satisfied she’s stable, I let go and she stands on her own, glancing around. I see the rough-hewn exposed logs that I cut by hand, the deer antler light fixtures, the stone fireplace, and the wood-burning stove through her eyes. It may not be the Ritz, but it’s functional, warm, and clean. And masculine. It just looks like… home.

  I amble into the kitchen and stoke up the stove so I can put a pot of water on to boil. I have some tonic herbs I collected from the forest in a tin can that will make a great tea. I just need to add some raw honey from my bees, and she’ll be like new in no time. Now’s not the time to tell her she has to stay the night. The rain isn’t giving any signs of letting up soon. Not to mention the trail will be solid mud.

  And if it rains for days, the trail could get washed away.

  She should stay.

  I inhale a breath and tell the devil on my shoulder to fuck himself. She’d never stay here. She’s a scientist of some sort. Probably known and needed in her world for her superior brainpower. What would that kind of woman ever want with a simple redneck like me?

  I glance over my shoulder and see her standing before the fireplace looking at the photograph on the mantel. Julie gave me that for Christmas a few years back. It’s a picture of us during the lumberjack festival, log rolling for the first time. Our smiles stretch our faces as our legs try to keep us upright and out of the water.

  The memory slips in and envelops me like fine merino wool. By conscious choice, I left that life behind, and I’d do well to remember it.

  Chapter Six

  Dove

  It’s not lost on me that I’m standing in my lumberjack savior’s cabin. A man. A strange man.

  A huge man.

  He could hurt me. Even kill me.

  But somehow, knowing his name, Gray, like the sky during a summer storm, melts the fear around my heart just a little bit.

  And the fact that he’s standing in his efficiency kitchen brewing me tea from herbs he picked by hand also helps. What kind of a serial killer feeds their victim fresh herbal tea before killing and dismembering them? I rack my brain because I can’t think of a single instance.

  After admiring the photograph of two smiling kids log rolling, I glance around again. There’s a hallway that I assume leads to a bedroom and hopefully, a bathroom. What if Gray only has an outhouse? I shiver. Doing my duty a few times in the forest never hurt me but not having access to running water puts me into a panic. The scientist in me eschews anything unsanitary. Aside from a leather sofa and recliner, tables made from logs, and the wood-burning stove, the cabin is pretty sparse. A book lays on the end table next to the recliner. Since Gray doesn’t have electricity, I’m assuming he reads in his spare time. Probably goes to bed once night falls and wakes with the song of the first bird in the morning.

  A simple life.

  I sigh, for a heartbeat wishing I could have a life like that. Worries tend to overwhelm me at times, since I have perfectionist tendencies. Everything I do, I want t
o do it well. To the best of my ability. Being that way comes with its own set of challenges.

  Before too long, Gray emerges with a steaming mug. I take it from him and blow on the top but welcome the sensation of the heat on my chilly hands. He invites me to sit on the couch in front of the fire and puts a red and black plaid wool blanket around my shoulders.

  “If you sit here long enough, you’ll dry out. I’d offer to dry your clothes, but I don’t have electricity, which means, no gas dryer. Thank goodness it’s summer and not winter or you’d be frozen solid.”

  I admire the breadth of his shoulders, the vividness of his azure gaze and his thick chestnut hair as he walks over to stoke the fire. Gray must be well over six feet tall because he towers over my own five foot two. The muscles ripple and stretch across the expanse of his back and something flutters in my stomach when I consider the strength he possesses. In my line of work, I rarely encounter manly men. His masculinity calls to something deep inside me.

  He glances over his shoulder and in the low firelight, I notice the deep blue of his eyes. “So, did you find the sample you were looking for? The one for your paper?”

  I don’t answer right away, mainly because all thoughts fled my head when the warmth started in my belly and spread outward. Must be from the fire. It sizzles and crackles, releasing heat throughout the cabin. His back flexes again as he pokes a piece of lumber and sparks float from the blaze toward the flue. When he turns to face me, I realize I haven’t answered, and a blush hits my cheeks.

  Thankful for the low light, I say, “No, I fell before I could get that last one.”

  He turns and glances out the window, staring at the still pouring rain. “Maybe once it lets up, I can help you find it. Before you have to leave, that is.”

  Settling into the recliner, Gray shifts his massive body. I realize I haven’t been sipping my tea as directed so I tentatively take a drink, finding the sweet and earthy flavor tolerable. The brew has cooled down enough that I can knock back a few gulps, allowing the warmth to flow through my body.