Lumberjack in Love (3 page)

“I am not interfering in your life. I just hate to see you close yourself off because of Dan the Dork. It’s time to get back on the horse. Learn to ride a bike again. Grab life by its horns—”

“Stop. Please. You’re mixing your metaphors. I am totally content with my life.”

Rachel shook her head. “That’s not true. Dan stole your share of the business and now you’re lucky to get a job. And you’re lonely. Don’t lie to me, Ami. I know you. I just want you to be happy.”

Ami rubbed the pounding spot on her forehead. “I know you mean well, but I am fine. Seriously. Sure, it’s going to take some time to rebuild a client base after Dan stole my contacts, but eventually everything will work out. And not that it’s any of your business, but I
do
go on dates. Last week I went out with a lawyer who works for the city.”

“Another one of those pansy-ass guys who needs to grow a pair?” Her sister did not look impressed.

“God, you are so irritating! Just because a guy wears a suit does not mean he is a pansy-ass, Miss Vermont I-Don’t-Shave-My-Pits Earth Goddess. Nature guys are all well and good until you try to have a normal conversation.”

“Are you saying Doug is a bad conversationalist?” Rachel was fuming now.

Ami sighed. “No, of course not. Your husband is the rare combination of thoughtful, interesting conversationalist and brawny, outdoorsy woodsman. He’s amazing. You’re very lucky, Rach.”

“Sweetheart,” Rachel said, “there is an amazing guy out there for you. The opposite of Dorky Dan-o. Someone you can trust who won’t stab you in the back, steal your clients, and leave you hanging in the sack.”

Ami gasped. “Christ Almighty, sis. I rue the day I ever told you that.”

Rachel giggled. “Well, you’d had a lot to drink. You were spilling secrets left and right that night. It was fun.”

Ami stared at the glass of wine in her hand and then gently placed it on the table.
Note to self…watch wine consumption this evening
.

“I haven’t given up hope of finding a great guy. But I do not appreciate you playing matchmaker. There is no way in hell I’m getting involved with a giant, cranky, English Bulldog-owning, playhouse-designing, bearded lumberjack who lives in the middle of the boonies.”

Rachel smirked and glanced over Ami’s left shoulder. “Hi Marcus. Thanks so much for coming.” She bit her lower lip as her gaze lowered to the ground.

Ami narrowed her eyes at her sister. “Funny. You expect me to believe that Marcus Anderson is standing behind me? Just how gullible do you think I am?”

A rumble in her ear raised every hair on her body.

“Hmm. I see a bowl of macaroni and cheese. Did the kidlet already ding your fancy-pants dish?”

Ami turned her head a fraction until Marcus Anderson’s beard was a scant inch away from her flaming face.

“Just for the record, I’m not cranky. Unless a flatlander trespasses on my property.” He smiled and ambled to the family room.

Laughing, Rachel collapsed into a chair. “Oh my God. That was hilarious. I think he likes you. I saw him checking out your butt in those jeans.”

Ami leaned down and poked her sister in the chest. “You wanna eat that risotto tonight?”

Rachel nodded. “I love that stuff.”

“Fine. Then knock off the match-making. I can handle mountain boy by myself. I hope Natalie eats the damned risotto. Let’s put some mac and cheese on top. She’ll never notice.”

“Okay. Just one thing.” Rachel grabbed a shrimp from the top of the bowl and popped it into her mouth. “I don’t think Marcus Anderson is a mountain boy.” She raised an eyebrow. “He’s a mountain
man
. All one hundred percent, Vermont-raised, sexy-as-hell, man.” She winked at Ami and headed back into the kitchen.

Ami shivered once, a delayed reaction.

Yep,
man
was right.

Hot damn, the woman could cook.

Marcus helped himself to another serving of risotto. Tender rice, fresh seafood, and everything perfectly seasoned. Being a bachelor in the woods meant eating a lot of take-out and investing in large quantities of ramen noodles. Cooking alone wasn’t much fun. Actually, living alone wasn’t so fun anymore either. He hated to admit it, but for the first time in his life he wished for a permanent companion. Someone to talk to, hang out with, roll around in bed with on a lazy weekend morning. Someone who did more than just snort and beg for biscuits. He loved Henry, but the dog wasn’t the best conversationalist.

Since he and Kate had broken up more than a year ago, Marcus had been out of sorts. He’d known from the beginning she wasn’t right for him‌—‌she’d never really bought into the whole Vermont lifestyle. Spending time with the McGuire family made him feel nostalgic. They had a good thing going on here. He wouldn’t mind filling up his log cabin with a wife and family. If he could just find the right woman.

He sneaked a peek at Ami who was trying like hell to cajole her niece into trying a piece of calamari. The Boston gal seemed like a handful. Bossy, stuck-up, and high-maintenance. But he wouldn’t mind a private dinner with her. He had a great idea what to have for dessert. And it involved those long legs wearing nothing but the boots. And draped over his table.

“Marcus?”

He blinked once. “Uh, yeah, did you say something, Doug? Sorry, I was zoning out there for a minute.”

Doug glanced at his sister-in-law. “I could see that. Just wondering if you wanted another beer. Looks like you’re enjoying dinner.”

“Sure, I’d love another beer. Thanks for inviting me to Natalie’s birthday celebration.” He turned to Ami who seemed resigned to her niece’s rejection. “Dinner is delicious. I’m impressed.”

Ami’s sad face disappeared and she beamed at him. Just like that. He felt heroic and horny at the same time.

“Thank you, Marcus. I’m glad you like it. I learned how to make this dish when I was in Italy for JYA.” She raised an eyebrow at Natalie. “See? Some people like fresh seafood, Miss Picky Pants.”

The young girl laughed. “I don’t eat things with tentacles. Macaroni doesn’t have tentacles. Neither does cheese.”

“What were you studying in Italy?” Marcus found himself curious about her background.

“I studied landscape design and Italian historical gardens.”

“Is that what you do in Boston? Landscape design?” he asked.

Suddenly everyone got quiet.
Shit, he’d stepped in it all right, but not sure how.

Ami cast her gaze downward. “Well, sort of. I was specializing in children’s gardens with a big landscaping firm, but…uh…that didn’t work out.” She jabbed her fork into a scallop on her plate.

“Cause her old boyfriend was a jerk. And a liar and a two-timing bas—”

“Natty!” Rachel looked mortified. “Honey, we don’t discuss people’s personal business with strangers.”

Natty shrugged. “But Marcus isn’t a stranger. We know him.”

“That’s true, but Ami probably doesn’t want the whole world to know—”

“That a two-timing, talentless hack stole my business idea and kicked me to the curb after meeting Miss Massachusetts runner-up 2009? Uh huh. That would be embarrassing.” Ami snatched the bottle of wine from the table and helped herself to a large serving.

Marcus cleared his throat. “Guy sounds like a loser.”

Ami pushed a strand of her golden hair behind one ear and shrugged, trying for a nonchalant expression. But he could see the tension around her eyes.

“Yeah, well, he is. I guess I figured it out a little bit too late. But that’s okay. I can start over again.”

Doug handed Marcus a beer. “Ami’s designs are really something. She created an interactive children’s garden at the Boston Exploration Museum. It has giant insects pollinating flowers. Very innovative concept. The kids love it.”

“That sounds familiar. I remember reading something about that.”

Ami sipped her wine. “Dork-o Dan took credit for the project. Now everyone wants his firm. Too bad he doesn’t know squat about plants. Or kids.”

“You know, the Vermont Children’s Science Museum is designing a new outdoor play area. I’m doing the tree house. A multi-level dwelling connected by rope bridges. They’re looking for a landscape designer to coordinate an outdoor garden area with it. Interested?”

“Oh my God, Ami, that sounds right up your alley.” Rachel grabbed her sister by the shoulder. “Did you hear that? You
have
to apply for that job. It’s perfect for you.”

“It would be a great opportunity,” Doug agreed. “I know the director of the museum. You want me to set up an appointment for you?”

Ami set her wine glass on the table and sighed. “Um. I don’t know. They’re probably looking for Vermont landscaping firms to work on this.”

“Fiddlesticks. You are one of the best children’s garden designers in New England. They would pee their pants to get you on board.”

Ami laughed. “You sure have a way with words, Rach.”

“Fiddlesticks is the word of the day,” Natalie announced.

“What exactly is the word of the day?” Marcus asked, watching Ami out of the corner of his eye. She was biting her lower lip. She’d clearly gotten royally screwed over by that douchebag in Boston, and if he had to pull some strings with the board of the museum, he would do it to get her an interview.

Natalie pointed to a chalk board on the wall. “See, Marcus, that’s where we write the word of the day.”
Fiddlesticks
was scrawled across the board in bright pink chalk. “Yesterday’s word was
cappuccino
. Do you know what that means?”

Marcus glanced at Ami and chuckled. “Let me guess. Your auntie picked that word.”

“That’s right, mountain man. I’ve been dreaming of the perfect cup of coffee. Somewhere beyond the magical forest is a large urban community where coffee products don’t make you grimace and clutch your stomach in pain and mortal agony.”

He turned to Doug. “She sure likes to exaggerate, doesn’t she? Bill and Bob’s coffee isn’t that bad.”

Doug threw his napkin at Ami’s head. “Tell me about it. We only drink herbal tea in our house. The first morning she woke up here and found out there wasn’t any coffee, I thought she was going to call the police and report a crime against humanity.” Doug winked at his sister-in-law, then got up from the table to collect dishes.

“Wait a minute. Natalie hasn’t eaten her risotto.” Ami smiled at her niece. “Just one bite, sweetheart. This is really delicious. Did you see how much risotto Uncle Marcus ate? I think he had three bowls. It is really, really yummy.” She leaned down to whisper in her niece’s ear. “Come on, sweet pea. I’ve got twenty bucks riding on this. Don’t let me down, kid.”

Natalie shook her head, swinging two long, silky braids through the air. “No way, Jose. There’s pieces of octopus in there.”

Rachel giggled and gave Natty a big kiss on the cheek as she reached forward to grab her bowl. “Squid, honey bug. Not octopus. Someday when you’re a big girl you’ll like it.” She looked at her sister apologetically. “Sorry, sis, maybe next time.

“Why don’t we help Daddy clear the table and get out the birthday cake and ice-cream?”

Natty jumped up and shouted. “I’ll help!”

Rachel stacked the bowls in her hands. “Ami and Marcus, stay right where you are. You’re the guests tonight. We’ll be back with cake, ice-cream, and other non-tentacle infested food products.” She grinned at Ami and headed into the kitchen.

Ami sat ram-rod straight at the table, making no eye contact with Marcus. He cleared his throat. She continued to ignore him. He picked up a raisin from a dish next to Natalie’s place mat and chucked it at Ami, pinging her right in the middle of her forehead.

“Hey, good-looking. I think you owe me twenty bucks.”

Ami rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t start a food fight, Mr. Lumberjack. Not for nothing, but I’ve made twelve-year-old boys cry with my food-fighting skills.” She sighed. “It could get ugly.”

Marcus laughed. “I’m not a lumberjack, city girl. Just a designer and builder.”

“Really? Let’s see.” She pointed at his faded flannel shirt and quirked a brow. “Plaid shirt? Check. Axe? Saw that‌—‌Check. Beard?” She glanced at his chin. “Check. I rest my case. Lumberjack.”

Chuckling, Marcus got up from his seat and walked around the table to sit next to the stunning flatlander. He was getting a hankering for dessert. A blonde, sexy morsel with long, lean legs and a hot little ass.

Funny, he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had gotten him this worked up. Since he and Kate had broken up, he’d pretty much been resigned to a celibate life in the woods, concentrating on his business. Something about this flatlander was getting under his skin. She was a fascinating mix of sass, sex and just a hint of vulnerability. He wanted to see her naked.

He leaned forward until his face was only inches away from his prey. “How about you spend that twenty bucks on me at the local pub? Buy me a beer and we’ll call it even.”

“A twenty dollar beer? That must be one of those tourist-trappy Vermont micro-brews unsuspecting flatlanders purchase to feel closer to nature.” She paused. “Well, I guess it might be okay. I hear there are some cute college boys at that dive.”

Marcus frowned. “College boys? I don’t think college boys would know how to satisfy a sophisticated city slicker like you.” He stroked his callused fingers over her soft jaw. “I think you might need a real man for that job.”