Nope. Still a vague, empty space in my mind where she should be. Frustrated, I slam my laptop shut and finish off my glass of wine in one big gulp. Staring out at the winter wonderland, my thoughts roam down the hill to Owen. I wonder what he’s up to? I can picture his biceps flexing as he swipes his ax through a log, like a hot knife through butter, exploding it into pieces.
From the look of the sun dropping in the sky, there’s probably another hour until it will be dark up here. A walk out in the fresh air might do me good. I often come up with some of my best scenes when I’m out for a stroll. I get my winter gear on and head on down the hill. I could’ve chosen any direction to walk in, but if I happen to steal a glimpse of Owen working outside, I feel like that can only really help my story along.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
Trying to be nonchalant, I search around their property, but I don’t see my handsome hero anywhere. Instead, it’s just the grumpy grizzly bear man. He’s easily tossing huge eight-foot logs into the back of a trailer. His hair is brown and wild, curling around his face like tiny bare tree branches arch toward the sky in the winter. I try to slink by, not wanting to deal with him, but he stops and stares at me. His green eyes are murky and the thick, white scar that permanently slices his eyebrow open makes him look dangerous. A shiver runs down my back and I keep walking when he calls out to me.
“Mary!”
I don’t turn back. My feet break through the thin layer of ice covering the snow and I head toward what looks like a well-worn path in the woods.
Hardy yells something else out to me, but I can’t make it out. My face burns bright as I turn the words over in my head. Did he just say he wants to strip me bare? Or that he wants to pull my hair? This guy doesn’t know when to quit! Either way, he’s rude and I’m not interested.
Shaking my head, I tromp through the snow and try to push thoughts of Hardy free from my brain. I need to just ignore him. Focus on Owen instead. And what I really need to be doing is figure out my story.
I climb the snowy hill when a streak of brown makes me stop dead. It takes a full minute for my mind to understand what it’s seeing. The thick fur covering the huge bear doesn’t process in my brain. Once it clicks in, my throat almost closes up with fear and a scream I can’t stop from escaping my lips fills the air.
Oh, damn it! I startled it. The bear stands up tall on its hind legs and roars at me. A cloud of its warm breath pours from its mouth like smoke, but all I see are its large, razor sharp teeth. I freeze and whimper, trying to crouch down. Trying to hide. Trying to make this all go away. The bear steps toward me. Slowly, it takes lumbering steps and sniffs at the air.
I’m going to die.
“Hee-yah! Get out of here.” Hardy leaps out from behind me and puts himself directly between me and the bear. He waves an ax at it and stands tall, staring the giant creature down. “Go on, you heard me, get going!” he thunders.
I hold my breath, trying not to faint. The bear lumbers forward and I didn’t have to pee before I started this walk, but I’m not making any promises I won’t soak my pants now. For a moment, they stand their ground, Hardy stares the bear right in the eyes, both of them are perfectly still, neither willing to budge.
Oh God, please don’t let us die this way.
The bear stops short, snorts and snuffs loudly. I don’t know what that means. Is it about to attack us? My body is just one tense heartbeat, every part of my skin is pulsing as blood rushes to my muscles and my mind begs me to flee. Another big snort sends a frosty cloud up into the air over the bear. It drops back down onto all fours and turns away. It’s amazing how quickly it runs up the hill, disappearing into a cavern near the top.
Hardy turns toward me angrily and grabs my arms, I collapse against him, my weak knees no longer able to hold me up.
“Why didn’t you listen to me?” he snarls.
“I didn’t hear you,” I whisper. His grip is tight on my arms. Our bodies are pressed close. My heart is racing a million beats per second and the world around me is swirling. I’ve never been so afraid in my life. He saved me. He saved my life.
“You didn’t even try to listen. I was telling you that we’ve spotted a bear out here. You could’ve died.” He shakes his head.
I don’t mean to look at his lips this way. With his sturdy frame against mine, I realize I’ve never felt so safe. So protected. This wild man just risked his life to save mine, the feelings flooding through me are unexpected. And powerful.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur.
“You should be,” he growls and lets me go. I almost fall over, but somehow manage to stay on my feet.
Hardy starts to stomp off toward his cabin.
“Wait,” I call out.
“What?” He stops but doesn’t turn around.
“I was rude earlier, I… let me make it up to you. Give me a chance to start over. How about you and Owen come by in a couple hours, I’m a really great cook. I’ll make you both dinner. I promise you’ll love it,” I offer.
“We’re fine. We don’t need your food.” He looks at me over his shoulder, his green eyes pulling me in.
“No, please,” I persist, “it’s the least I can do. You saved my life. Please?”
Hardy sighs, the anger finally melting from his intense face and he nods. “Fine. Dinner in a couple hours sounds good. Now get out of the woods before you end up being dinner for that bear,” he warns me and then walks away.
I don’t waste any time doing exactly what he said. Quickly, I retreat from the path and head back up to my cabin. I start pulling out all the groceries and planning a dinner fit for a couple of kings. Or at least a couple of sexy lumberjacks.
5
Hardy
“So, I’m dressed in this little French maid costume, totally out of my element. Totally. Before that, I’d always done Halloween costumes like Cinderella or Amelia Earhart or stuff like that.” Mary giggles and finishes her glass of wine.
“Like a slutty Cinderella?” I hold her captive in my hungry stare, easily imagining the plunging neckline cupping her tits.
“No.” She frowns at me.
“Then what you’re telling us is that was the first Halloween you ever dressed like an adult, is that it?” I cock my head, still not taking my eyes off her.
“No, that’s not at all what I’m telling you.” Her lips turn down in the corners and she glowers at me from behind those ridiculous glasses.
Who wears glasses that bright? Someone who’s hiding who they really are from the world. Or maybe someone who’s afraid of who they really are deep inside.
“The whole point is that it was my first year of college and I was trying really hard to be someone I wasn’t,” she explains her story to me like I’m three. “When my sorority sisters told me to be ready for a wild Halloween party, I thought they meant the revealing costumes and the whole bit. I wasn’t comfortable with it, but I was trying to be someone I wasn’t and did it.”
“Okay.” I sigh, waiting for her to make her point so we can crack open the booze.
“Just ignore him, I get what you’re saying.” Owen hangs on her every word.
“Anyway, so we get to my English Lit professor’s house and they open the door and everyone inside is dressed in Oscar Wilde costumes. Like one is Dorian Gray and she’s holding a photoshopped picture of her looking old, another is done up as the actual author.”
“Oh no!” Owen claps his hands together like he’s watching the plot twist in the greatest movie he’s ever seen.
“Yep. I wanted to die. I had this little costume on that was up to here and down to there.” She points at her upper thighs, hidden under her long skirt. “Anyway, my professor answers the door and I immediately realize the wild party was actually supposed to be a Wilde party, like with an E at the end.”
“What did you do?” Owen prods her.
“I pretended I was a housekeeper and had the wrong house.” She blushes furiously. Pink crests over her milky skin
, making her almost glow in the low light.
“Ahh, good thinking.” He nods. “Great story.” He laughs.
“Yep, I learned right then that’s just not me. The sexy costumes, being the bad girl, it’s just not in my blood.” She pushes her glasses up her nose and sits a little taller. “The one time I tried, it was a disaster, so the way I figure it, that’s just life’s way of nudging me back on the right path. I guess that’s why I write the kind of books that I do, I’m just a romantic at heart.”
For a second they both stare at each other. It’s like they don’t even remember I’m here. I know that dumb love-struck look on his face all too well. Owen falls for women fast and hard. His heart is always firmly attached to his sleeve. It’s been that way since Betsy-Ann in grade two and it hasn’t changed.
From the goo-goo eyes she’s giving him, I can see the feeling is mutual.
“I mean, you missed a real opportunity though didn’t you?” I watch as she rolls her eyes exaggeratedly and looks back to me.
“What are you talking about?”
“Didn’t you say you were failing that class?”
“Your point?” She stands up and starts clearing her plate from the table, clearly not interested in what I have to say.
“Well, why didn’t you go in there? Really explore that wild side? Maybe you could’ve seduced your professor in your little costume. Or maybe you could’ve offered him your A for an A, if you catch my drift.”
Mary turns and freezes, her mouth dropping open with shock. “What did you say…?”
Owen kicks me under the table, hard, and gives me a pointed glare. “Ignore him.” He jumps in. “The guy’s been out in the woods too long. He’s clearly forgotten how to act in front of a proper lady,” he apologizes for me.
But I’m not interested in pretending to play high society with this girl. I can see inside her, I know that lurking just beneath the surface she has actual desires. She has that wild side she’s trying to keep stuffed down inside.
We all do.
And hers is dying to leap out and experience life for once. I felt it when I held her in the woods today. She wasn’t just worked up about the bear. I could smell the faint smell as I kept her in my grasp, beneath the tears and her sweat, the faint scent of her longing teased me, tempted me, and told me everything I need to know about this girl.
Mary seems to accept Owen’s explanation and she busies herself by the sink.
“What the hell, man?” Owen hisses at me.
“What?”
“Don’t fucking say what, you’re talking to her like you just got out of max and she’s the first woman you’ve seen. Fucking cool it, you’re gonna scare her.” His wrinkled brow smooths back flat, and he smiles up at Mary as she makes her way to the table.
“You know, I kind of do regret that I didn’t just go with it.” She rubs her hands down over her flowing skirt.
“See?” I smirk at Owen.
“I mean, not that I would’ve slept with my professor or did what you said.” She can’t bring herself to say it. Still, I see her bite down on her full bottom lip and twist her hands in her skirt at the thought of some raunchy, filthy sex she missed out on. Her eyes travel over my body like she’s under a spell. Her pupils dilate and her shallow breathing makes her tits rise and fall with every quick breath.
I knew she was a dirty girl deep inside. The question is, why won’t she give into those desires?
“Can I take your plates?” Mary snaps out of her trance and tries to go back to being the perfect hostess. “Or did you want seconds? I still have plenty for you guys to eat,” she offers.
“I bet you do,” I murmur.
“And I didn’t have enough time to make a dessert. It’s too bad because I have this delicious pie recipe that’s been handed down in my family for generations now. It’s so juicy.”
“I do love a juicy pie. Especially with a nice dollop of whip cream on top, I like to take a nice cold spoon and spread it all over before I dive in, you know?”
To my surprise, she doesn’t frown at me or turn away, instead, she meets my gaze, and for the first time, I see the ache of need rise to the surface. Her pink tongue flickers over her ruby-red lip and she pulls in a sharp breath. “Sure, who doesn’t love that.” She gives a weak smile.
Owen watches us closely, doing this little dance. Two steps forward and one back. This girl wants to be spun and twirled and owned on the dance floor. She wants to feel the sparks of excitement electrify her skin and make her feel alive, she just needs to let go. To give in.
“Just the one plate was great.” Owen stands abruptly, breaking through the building tension like an overeager stick tearing through a drum skin. He helps her clear the table off. “Uh, Hardy brought some rum if you’d like him to make some drinks while we clean up?”
“Rum? Isn’t that pretty strong?” She seems to be weighing out the offer.
“Doesn’t have to be, he can make yours weak if you want.”
“All right then.” She beams.
There’s that over-smile again. It’s all part of her little show. The glasses, the perfect hair that I just want to drag my fingers through and mess up, and then the smile. She looks over at me and uncertainty dances in her eyes. I’m fairly certain it’s safe to say she’s never met a guy like me before. I’m guessing all the boys she’s brought home to the parents have been book smart little gents. They’ve probably always laughed at that English Lit party story and tried to wine and dine her the way those spineless schmucks in her books do.
I’m willing to put money on the fact that’s she’s never been properly fucked in her entire life. She’s never met the man who can bend her to his will, let alone over a table, and make her drop the little miss perfect act as she came over and over again.
I let them chat as I grab three glasses and eyeball the shots as I pour us some drinks. I make mine over the rocks, filling my glass with the amber liquid. For Owen, I do the same but add a splash of Coke to the mix. For the lightweight, I do the exact opposite, it’s almost entirely Coke and just a light splash of rum to top it off.
Before long we’re all gathered in the living room. I’ve gotta admit, it’s nice. With a delicious, home-cooked meal in my belly, the fire crackling and a woman that drives me equal parts crazy and to the brink of insanity kind of horny, I’ve gotta admit tonight has been fun.
“So, what about you two? Mary sits too tall on the couch. She’s back to being the too proper Mary Poppins type.
The sweater and skirt she changed into after her walk are a total tease. The way they snugly cling to her body is making all the cells in my brain fire off at the same time. All I want to see is what she wears under such a modest outfit. Does she keep things sweet underneath too? Or does she have a lace thong snugly wedged between her full, perfect ass cheeks? Maybe she’s even naughtier. Maybe she’s not even wearing panties. Maybe she just has her bare, glistening pussy exposed and waiting to be fucked, if only the right guy would show her how to let go.
“What about us?” It comes out harsher than I want. I have to clear my throat and fight the feral animal inside. The one that wants to throw the rest of this rum down my throat and slide my hand up that skirt to see exactly what secrets are hiding beneath.
“How long have you been, I mean, are you guys loggers? Or… is lumberjack a profession?” She looks at me and then to Owen.
“Yeah, lumberjack is a real job.” He nods. “Hardy and I, we grew up in this business. More like lifestyle, really.” He sips his drink.
Mary delicately takes a mouthful of hers and her nose scrunches up.
“Don’t like it?” I try to read her face.
“It’s just a bit strong,” she answers.
“Strong? Tell me you’re kidding, have you ever even had a drink before?”
“I can add more Coke if you want,” Owen offers, starting to stand up, but Mary stops him.
“No, I’ll drink it.” She gives me a look. One that tells me she’s v
ery aware that I’m watching her. She takes a bigger mouthful, swallowing it down without flinching. “There.” She eases back on the sofa. “No problem at all,” she answers defiantly.
“If you’re sure, it’s no biggie for me to add some soda?” Owen asks again.
“She said she’s fine. God, stop babying her,” I growl. I like seeing this side of her. This, jutting out her jaw and trying to show me she can hold her own side. It’s got a bit more sass than the boring Martha Stewart knock-off impression.
“Okay, whatever.” Owen relaxes and slugs back another gulp of his own drink. “Anyway, Hardy and I come from a long line of lumberjacks, but the trade isn’t what it used to be. Now it’s all big machinery chewing up the land. There’s no selective cutting the way it used to be. It’s taking out a huge swath of land and then, if it’s a ‘responsible’ company,” he uses air quotes to mock the term, “they come in after and plant a billion of one kind of tree and then they act like they’re some kind of forestry heroes or something.”
“That’s not how you guys do it then?”
“No,” I interrupt. “We do it the same way our grandfathers did. We actually give a shit about whether our kids will have clean air to breathe. The only thing is, it’s hard to make a living that way now. You just can’t compete. That’s why we specialize in rare cuts of wood. That way we can do our job the way we want and still put food in our mouths.”
“Wow, that’s awesome.” Mary fully relaxes between us now. She pulls her feet up under her and sips some more of her drink. That rosy blush kisses her cheeks again, trying to make her skin match her fiery hair.
“How about you? How long have you been writing romance?” Owen asks her. My eyes drift over the room and I don’t really focus on what she says because they fall onto the cover of one of her books. Over by the armchair, it’s shoved down between the cushion and the side, but I can see her smiling face and those distinctive blue glasses on the back cover.
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