Chopped

by Charles, Colleen

  So Gray can go back to being a strong, sexy as hell, ax-wielding loner. And I can go back to being a tiny, mousy brainiac men never notice.

  “Do you want more tea?” he asks in that gritty, raspy voice that seems to settle between my legs instead of between my ears, gesturing toward my nearly empty mug.

  I nod because I’m afraid that I won’t be able to push any words past my dry throat without squeaking like the mouse that I am. Maybe a few more sips of his homemade brew will soothe the frayed and raw ends of my nerves.

  I follow him with my eyes as he moves around the kitchen again, putting his huge hand on the handle of the kettle, and walking toward me. No, not toward me. Toward my mug. Nothing more. I have to stop reading things into his simplest movements. He’s just being hospitable. He seems to take up the entire space in the living room and all the oxygen escapes, leaving my lungs a blazing mass of nothingness.

  Electricity crackles around us, and I can barely breathe.

  He pours the hot tea into my mug as I admire the muscles of his forearm. His limbs resemble the trunks of the trees he covets, all sinew and corded strength.

  “Thank you,” I say, fighting the blaze in my core.

  “You’re welcome.”

  The burn of his stare scalds my cheeks with fire as I almost buckle under the weight of the unrequited desire coursing through me.

  Underneath hooded lids, I allow my eyes to trace over the planes and dips of his sculpted chest. Through the tightness of his shirt, I can make out the indentations of his abs. I wonder how many trees a man has to harvest to get a sculpted body like his.

  “Like something you see?” His words swirl between my ears.

  The amused tone jolts me out of my clandestine peep show and another blush settles on my face. “N-no. I was just wondering how many trees you’ve cut down in your life. That’s all.”

  He chuckles, the sound ripping through me. Our gazes clash, propelled by something I can’t explain and don’t understand because I’ve never ever felt it before. It’s almost like I’m suspended in time, hovering between two worlds. On one side, is the old, conservative me of the past. On the other, a bold, brazen version that wants to climb this man and beg him to take me and make me a woman.

  For a second, I wish he’d spiked my tea with whiskey, even though I’ve never touched a drop of alcohol. Maybe drinking would give me the fortitude to resist Gray before I go back to reality and civilization. I wonder how many women he’s slept with.

  “Hundreds, I suppose. Maybe even thousands.”

  My head snaps up. “What?”

  He laughs again, his belly shaking with the effort. But all that does is draw my attention to the place where his shirt disappears into the waistband of his jeans. “You said you were wondering how many trees I’ve cut down in my life. Or, maybe that’s not what you were wondering at all.”

  My eyes widen into moons. Instead of answering, I grab the warm mug of tea with both hands and sink back into the couch, effectively dismissing him. If I continue to stand in such close proximity to the man, I might do something I regret. Something even more humiliating than being caught eye-fucking him like some stupid co-ed about to fail out of undergrad the first semester. I don’t lust after strange men. I don’t lust after men at all. They’re a distraction I don’t want or need.

  I take another sip and watch him go back to his biography, his chest bulging with the movement. Another blush warms my face and I look away, glancing into the roaring fire. At least I can blame the constant redness on the heat.

  After a few minutes, he puts the book on the table beside him. “So tell me more about what you do. I’ve never known a botanist before.”

  The question surprises me. So few men take the time to ask about my work. They usually shake their heads and move on to another topic, dismissing me and everything I care about in one casual movement of their bodies.

  Settling back on the sofa, my stomach full of tea and passion for botany, I ponder how to best explain the unexplainable. Unless you’ve studied it, you really don’t get it. It’s not a layperson’s science.

  I realize that I’ve spent all the years of my life in the same lane, not even going so far as to hug the centerline. Sticking to the safe direction, all tied up in a little bow. Wondering what it would feel like to careen my vehicle off in the ditch, to take a risk that speaks to me if only for one time and the pleasure it might bring me, I heave a sigh.

  “It’s really not that interesting.”

  He rubs his fingers along the leather-bound binding of the book. My heart flips over and my core clenches as I imagine that long, tapered finger running down the length of my thigh.

  Damn, I wish was that antique book right now. It looks like something out of a BBC mini-series.

  He looks at me as if he really wants to know the answer. As if he cares. “I don’t believe that for a second. Anyone who would come all the way up here to this remote place and risk her life walking miles into a strange forest is interesting. And the why of it… well, that’s even more interesting.”

  I tuck my foot underneath me and ease into the conversation. “If you put it that way, I guess it could be considered interesting. The results of the research, that is. The research itself, that’s the stuff of toothpicks holding up eyelids.”

  He grins, showing off his charming smile. “So, the kind of droll prose that would put me to sleep at night? Like the nights I feel restless, so I pick up the King James Bible instead of a biography featuring King George VI?”

  A grin tugs the corners of my mouth upward. For a man who states he doesn’t have a college degree, he’s very well-read. And that gets my lady parts buzzing even louder. He’s like the perfect combination of brains and brawn. The men I know are all intellect and not much else, even personality. They lead with their ego, wanting you to know they’re smarter than you are. “Exactly like that. It’s a lot to memorize, especially the different species of trees native to Minnesota.”

  I wonder how much further I should go. The whole point of traveling up here was to get in and get out without damage to my soul, to focus on my doctorate and try and forget that I’m the kind of woman who men can’t understand or accept, not create new thought patterns that make me feel like there’s one who could.

  Outside of the front desk clerk at the motel and the pimple-faced teenager at McDonald’s, I didn’t have any intention of interacting with any men at all.

  He nods. “I never liked memorization. Probably why I’m bad at math.”

  “But you must have a love of history since you read so many biographies.” I tilt my head toward the book in his hand. “That’s a lot of memorization because the timeline is the most important part.”

  He considers me with a pause. “I suppose. What is it about trees that drew you in?”

  I gnaw on my lower lip. “I guess it’s because I love science, but when you consider the science of plants, it’s actually the science of beauty. I like the marriage of the factual science, based in reality, and the whimsical nature of all the plants.” I hang my head down. “When I say it out loud, I guess it seems silly.”

  He stands and walks toward me. With every soft footfall, my heart accelerates. When he stops only a few inches away from my singing body, he leans in and tips the bottom of my chin upward with a finger. The strength of his gaze melts away every inhibition I have.

  “Not silly at all. Why do you think I live all alone in the middle of a forest? Maybe we’re more alike than you think.”

  The thermostat inside my body cranks upward with one sweeping glance of his eyes. He takes me in. All of me.

  Every.

  Single.

  Inch.

  Sucking in a deep inhale, I steady myself and will any residual recklessness to stand down. “Maybe we are.”

  Chapter Nine

  Gray

  As I watch her struggle with her version of the truth, I feel the charged air between us slip into the abyss of the unknown. She doesn’t
want to admit what’s happening between us. But she feels it, just like I do. And for whatever reason, she’s fighting it with every breath in her tiny body.

  Karma’s a bitch, but fate’s a goddess. And fate brought this woman to my forest to look for my tree.

  To be claimed by me.

  Her lips, her body, maybe even her soul.

  Something flickers in the depths of her eyes, but it doesn’t land. It doesn’t stay like I want it to. With a heavy sigh, I let the moment pass. She’s not ready.

  A buzz rips through me as I realize she might never be, and I stand to lose the one opportunity at happiness that’s presented itself to me since I’ve lived here.

  And being alone here with her for an indefinite amount of time has my cock straining against the fly of my jeans. But I push that aside. Control over my body is the easy part. Control over my mind is another thing entirely.

  But I will conquer it.

  Dove looks at me through narrowed eyes, tugging that full lip between her teeth. I stare. I inhale. I tamp down every single lustful thought that boomerangs around in my head.

  The crackling of the HAM radio draws me out of it.

  “Gray? Gray, pick up?”

  Crackle.

  Snap.

  Crackle.

  Snap.

  I walk over and pick up the handpiece. “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “Gray, it’s John Nelson over with the forest service. Just heard from one of my guys up in tower ten. Seems the utility road’s washed out to Shadow Falls, not that you ever head into town but just in case, I thought you should know. Really dangerous out there. Stay put, okay?”

  I peek a look at her only to find her worried expression. It tugs at my heartstrings. Because she doesn’t want to be here with me. Anywhere else but here. “Any idea when it’s going to be back in service?”

  Crackle. Zip. Snap.

  “Probably not for weeks. Only road grader’s out of commission and the county can’t afford to fix it ‘til the new fiscal year. They’ll have to borrow one. If you need to get out, you’ll need to call for an ATV. Your sister know anybody with one you could borrow? Of course, if there’s an emergency, just call for help on the radio. I know I’ve said it before, Gray, but I really think you should invest in a utility vehicle. For your own safety.”

  I palm my forehead. The tragic expression Dove wears says it all. “Ah, no. I’ll call Tim at Shadow Events and Adventures and see if he can get in at all. He’s got a few ATVs for his guided fishing tours. In the meantime, can you call the motel in town and tell them that Dove Collins is stranded out here. Just charge the extra nights to her card.”

  “Will do. Lots of trees down, Gray. Once the weather clears, probably a prime time to put up some wood for the winter and sell the rest.”

  “Thanks, John.”

  “Bye.”

  After putting the receiver back, I hazard a glance at my unwilling houseguest. “Ah, looks like the road is out. I’ll try to get ahold of my friend Tim in the morning.”

  She faces me, our stances mirrored. “You have a friend?”

  I chuckle and marvel at how good it feels to tease each other. “We went to school together. Just because I choose to live a life of relative isolation doesn’t mean I’m an uncivilized hermit. I do see people a few times a month.”

  She nods. “Oh. What does Tim do?”

  “He owns a fishing and hunting tour company. Takes rich city bastards out on the lake and into the woods. And not to grandmother’s house, if you know what I mean. Mainly for trophies for their offices and man caves.”

  A little shiver runs up her arms and I stare, my palms itching to soothe the tiny bumps away. “Gross. Who wants a carcass staring at them from the wall? Especially if you executed it.”

  I lift a shoulder and let it fall. “I can see how you might think that. I eat meat that I’ve hunted, but I never leave anything behind. It’s all utilized.” Glancing around my cabin, I admire my antler light fixture, made by a local craftsman from a buck I shot a few years back. My eyes narrowing, I look back at her. “But I don’t believe in trophies for the sake of them. Animals as food, I can live with if, it’s done humanely. It’s all part of the circle of life.”

  As she looks me up and down, my skin blazes heat everywhere her gaze touches me just like her fingers did it instead. “So you’re kind of like a burly conservationist?”

  The corners of my mouth tug upward. “I’m not sure what that is, but I’ll take it.”

  She heaves a sigh, which only draws my attention to her full rack.

  “Can you show me?”

  A jolt of electricity spears me where I stand, crackling through my body. My mind teeters on the edge of the gutter and with that innocent question, it falls over into the dirty… I mean the dirt. “Huh?”

  “Can you show me how you live off the land? Like lumberjack type stuff. Hunting, fishing, chopping… log rolling? Like in that picture on your mantle. It seems we’re stuck here for a few days, so we’ll need something to do. Can you show me?”

  Woman, I know what I’d like to show you and you might never recover.

  Struck speechless, I realize that no one has ever asked me to show them my way of life. Most spend every second ignoring it, or worse, trying to talk me out of it. And here stands this tiny wisp of a woman asking me to show her who I am. At my core. And she’s interested in learning about me.

  “I’d like that.”

  The words don’t even come close to expressing the depth of emotion I feel deep inside me. It’s like I’ve been laying in a dark room in the fetal position for years and someone walked in and threw the shutters open, bathing the abyss with rays of glorious light.

  “Sounds good.” She glances around the cabin. “Where am I sleeping tonight? Couch or chair?”

  I shake my head. “Neither. You’re a guest. You take the bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  She gasps. “No! I couldn’t possibly kick you out of your own bed. Technically, I was trespassing. I feel lucky you haven’t turned me in to the authorities. Besides, I don’t think you even fit on the couch laying down.”

  A chuckle sneaks past my lips. “What authorities? Even if I could get ahold of them, it would take them days to get out here to arrest you. How fast can you walk?”

  She lets out a breath that floats her bangs toward the ceiling. “You’re right. But I appreciate the fact that you haven’t murdered me with your huge ax. I should take the couch.”

  My mouth snaps open, begging to tell her that I have another huge appendage that yearns to murder her. But only in the best way. I close it again and think this through before saying, “A gentleman would never let a lady sleep on the couch. You take the bed. And I can manage. I’ve slept in far worse places in my life. No more arguing.”

  It feels as if heaven suspends a line between us, yanking me, pulling me forward closer to her. She has a magnetic pull that I can’t deny, and maybe I don’t want to. I no longer recognize my own voice, it’s so full of grit and lust. My cock roars to life inside my jeans and nothing outside of this woman split wide open will make it stand down.

  I think about naked grandmas and flat beer and well-done steak and every other thing in this world that should be declared illegal.

  She tugs her lower lip between her teeth and regards me for a heartbeat too long, drawing my attention to the fullness of it. Before I can stop myself, I reach for her, clutching her shoulders in a gentle grip as if she might disappear before my very eyes if I let go.

  She hisses in a breath, or is it mine? A wave of emotion flows over me, making me see all the colors of the rainbow flash before my eyes. I dip my head. She inhales.

  Her eyes flutter closed.

  Her mouth falls open into a perfect oval of invitation.

  This can’t be happening to me. And yet, it is. I struggle to pull myself back to reality from the fantasy of a future that hovers just outside of my mental reach.

  The only thing that could make this m
oment any more perfect is if she surrendered. Fully. Completely. I can’t remember wanting a woman as much in my life as I want Dove. She already owns a part of me. The part I rarely let anyone see, even my own family.

  Even myself.

  For a second, the moment lays suspended in time. The air is sucked from the room. The sense is sucked from my head. The only thing that’s running the show is my heart. It wants what it wants.

  And it wants her.

  Chapter Ten

  Dove

  My legs pump and fly like a hamster on a wheel. Droplets of water cascade through the air, settling on my exposed skin. Pants of breath escape my lips as I’m lost in concentration. Because if I fall, I don’t know what will happen.

  If I fall, I might get hurt.

  So I can’t allow myself to be distracted by my almost kiss with Gray last night, no matter how much I might want to indulge.

  I don’t know if falling and injuring myself means physically because it might be harder to fall emotionally.

  Gray stands on the banks of the lake, cheering me on, his fist-pumping into the air beside his head. A tiny peek at him only reveals the bunches of chiseled muscles of his arms and shoulders. “Now you’ve got it! Go, Dove, go!”

  My arms pinwheel, flailing through the air. I feel myself pitching forward but instead of finding my feet on solid ground, I find them on spinning wood. Flying through the air, I face plant in the icy cold lake for about the tenth time, inhaling water when I should be taking in air. After several seconds, a huge hand plucks me from the cold liquid by my shirt as if I weigh nothing.

  I sputter and snort as my savior gives me a little shake.

  “I can’t believe I said I wanted to do this!” I wail, swiping at the water with the backs of my hands. “Why didn’t you insist that I give up after the first time I took a header?”