Lumberjack in Love (8 page)

Who knew the lumberjack cleaned up so well? Ami tried not to stare at her dinner companion, but it was difficult. Marcus had changed into khakis and a crisp white button-down shirt with a red plaid tie. She had teased him mercilessly about the tie, and he winked and told her he’d worn it just for her. Then he grabbed her hand as the hostess led them to the best table in the house, with a stunning view of the waterfall. She sipped her glass of full-bodied Merlot and enjoyed the beautiful sunset over the river. Marcus shot her lusty glances and watched her silently.

“Thank you for this,” Ami said. “I know it’s just part of your diabolical plan to get into my panties, but I am totally appreciating the romantic setting.”

He laughed. “I’m not denying the diabolical plan, but I would like to talk to you about your options for next year. I know it’s stressing you out, and I’m a pretty good sounding board if you’re interested.”

She fidgeted in her chair. “Do I have to?”

“It might make you feel better.”

Ami huffed. “Okay. I had a five year plan, you know. Well actually, I had a ten year plan, five year plan, one year plan, six month plan…”

Marcus lifted a brow. “I get it. You like to plan ahead. No surprises, right?”

“Right. Exactly. I do
not
like surprises. I had everything figured out. About my relationship with Dan, my professional goals, where I wanted to live, what I wanted to do with my life,” she said. “What a joke. Here I am, unemployed, with a crappy apartment in Boston, and nursing a broken ego, if not a broken heart.” She looked up at Marcus and was happy to see a look of commiseration, but not pity. “You know what the worst part is?”

“Tell me.”

“You’ll laugh. I don’t really care about Dan dumping me that much. I mean, not personally. And even though I’m super pissed about him screwing me out of my half of our business, that’s not the end of the world. Because I know I can start over again. The worst part is I had this silly dream about finally settling down and getting a house somewhere. So I could have my very own garden. Obviously, I can’t have a garden while I live in an apartment building. Dan kept promising me a starter house with lots of land. He dangled it in front of me like a freaking carrot while I worked my fingers to the bone making him rich.” She sighed and slumped down farther in her chair. “I’m such an idiot.”

Marcus reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You are not an idiot. In fact, I think this puts you in a great place. Don’t look at the whole debacle with Dan as a failure. Look at it as a stepping stone. One, you’ve racked up tons of experience in your field and have an impressive portfolio. You can take your pick of jobs anywhere in the country. Two, you avoided marriage to an asshole…consider yourself lucky as hell. And three, you know you want to settle down and have a home and garden to tend. The only thing you have to decide is where home base is. You can make yourself a nice little nest somewhere and take jobs anywhere in the world.” He paused. “And next time you get involved with someone, you know to avoid self-centered lazy asswipes.”

Ami giggled. “That pretty much sums Dan up. Nice description.”

“Thanks. I’m good that way.”

“You know, I never really considered travelling around for jobs. I could even go to Europe if I wanted to. I speak fluent Italian. That could be fun. Thanks for the pep talk, coach.”

Marcus pulled her chair closer to his and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Any time. You’re my favorite player on the team. Have I told you that yet?”

Ami tilted her head up for another kiss. This time he rewarded her with one on her lips. So very nice. “Does that mean I’m getting MVP? By the way, you’re invading my personal space again, coach. I think that might be against the rules.”

“I have this irritating tendency to make up my own rules. Don’t worry about it.” He settled his arm around her shoulders and stroked the back of her neck with those callused fingers. “So, all you have to do now is decide where home base is going to be. I happen to know a great little town in Vermont you might like.”

“In the wilderness?’

“I hear the general store got a new espresso machine. It’s not that uncivilized.”

“I don’t know. I’m used to road rage and “I Hate Yankees” bumper stickers. I think folks here might be too nice for me.”

“You’ll get used to it. Driving doesn’t have to be a life-risking experience.”

“Also, it’s so quiet. And I like shopping.”

“There are great plant nurseries here. You could go nuts making your own organic garden. And the cost of real estate is much more affordable than in the Boston area.”

Ami’s eyebrows shot up. “Hmm. That
is
a good selling point.”

Marcus caressed her cheek. “And your family is here. And…maybe some other folks who would like to get to know you better.”

The waitress appeared with their dinner. Marcus and Ami were silent while she poured more wine and presented their lovely, made-with-local-Vermont-products gourmet meals. This date was not what Ami had expected. She was actually considering staying here. The insanity! Ami Jordan living in the boonies? With poor cell phone reception, folks dressed in Carhartt overalls, and the sound of croaking frogs keeping her company at night? She glanced at Marcus. Well, the lumberjack could keep her company at night. That might not be such a bad idea. Could she really be happy in the boring-est state in the continental USA?

The thought of a sweet little cottage with overflowing window boxes and a vegetable patch nearby popped into her head. Then the image of a log cabin with window boxes and a naked lumberjack standing on the front porch.

Get your mind out of the gutter, Jordan!

“A penny for your thoughts.”

That deep voice rumbled right through her and snapped her out of her reverie.

“Nothing. Really. Just a lot to think about.” She placed her hand on top of his and winked. “Have you ever thought of starting a counseling practice? You’re not half-bad.”

Marcus smiled. “You mean psychotherapy for psycho flatlanders? Hmm. I’ll bet I’d be a millionaire by the end of the year.”

“Ha! Just think of all the good ways you could market it. Fresh air, a wholesome organic diet, and unlimited advice from a big, burly guy with a plaid shirt.” She sipped her wine. “You’d have a line of Boston gals at your front door.”

He shot her a look hot enough to make her blush. “I only want one gal at my front door.”

“Geez. You never stop, do you?”

“Not when I see something I want.”

Ami decided she better change the subject before Marcus embarrassed her in a public setting. “So, how about this locally made Vermont goat cheese?”

He laughed. “Okay. Let’s eat. I’ll continue ribbing you later.”

The next hour was an eye-opening experience. The two of them enjoyed good wine, delicious food, and a fun conversation that didn’t center completely around the Red Sox and her date. She’d never realized how self-centered Dorko Dan truly was. Spending the evening with Marcus was a breath of fresh air.

Lost in her own thoughts after dinner, she barely noticed the drive home. Not until Marcus pulled in front of the cabin.

“Oh, for God’s sake. You sure are persistent. I thought I told you—”

He held up a hand. “I’m not gonna lie. I want you. But I can tell you’re distracted tonight. You have a lot on your plate, and a lot to think about. So, how about a compromise.”

Ami rolled her eyes. “I can’t wait to hear this one.”

Marcus leaned forward and brushed his lips across her mouth. His thick black beard tickled her chin, and she barely suppressed a shiver.

“You spend the night here. Just sleep…in my bed, in my arms. I promise you’ll have sweet dreams. Tomorrow I’ll make you flapjacks with Vermont maple syrup. You’ll love it.” He cleared his throat. “And maybe you’ll wake up with a hankerin’ for some extra special therapy sessions from your favorite lumberjack.” We waggled his eyebrows.

“I get it.” Her voice croaked. “Get me in your bed and your chances are looking pretty good, right?” She gazed into his face, stunned by his gentle expression. “Why are you doing this, Marcus?”

“Because you got a bum deal with that asshole ex-boyfriend of yours. And you probably don’t have a lot of peace and quiet in your sister’s place with the little ladybug dancing around.”

He dragged his mouth along her neck, and the soft brush of his beard made her whimper.
Christ on a crutch
.

“I’m a good listener. I’ll help you work out a new game plan.”

Ami leaned her forehead against his and sighed. “Why do you have to be so damned nice, mountain man?”

Marcus chuckled. “I just look scary. You know, to frighten off the bears.”

“Hilarious.” Ami buried her face in his neck.

He pulled back and searched her face. “Honestly. I just want you with me tonight. What do you say?”

Dammit. He looked so sincere. “Okay,” she whispered. Ten minutes later she wore a faded flannel shirt and was snuggled up in his arms. She felt like Goldilocks, tucked into her bed for the night. Marcus’s solid arms held her not too loose, not too tight. Just right. The last thing she heard before she drifted off to sleep was him whispering “
Sweet dreams
” in her ear.

So much for avoiding Mr. Mountain Man.

Marcus raised the maul above his head and brought it down on the stump with a satisfying crunch.

Slam!

It was still too early to wake Ami. Curled up on his bed, she was sleeping like an angel. Well, an angel with a body like sin and a sassy attitude clearly designed to drive him insane.

Slam!

His breath came out in frosty puffs. There wasn’t a hell of a lot of difference between spring and winter in Vermont. They pretty much segued from a thirty inch snow base to mud season to summer. It always worked out that way. He didn’t mind it. One day everything was brown as shit. The next day it was green and lush and the birds were singing. He embraced all the seasons here. Made you feel good to be alive. Part of the earth.

Slam!

He’d almost accumulated enough short pieces for his next project. Boy, did he ever need this work-out. Sleeping next to city girl had pushed him over the edge. That fine, silky ass tucked up against his groin all night had been nothing short of torture. But he’d promised not to bother her. And by God, he’d kept his word. She talked a big game and looked the part with her fancy clothes, but any fool could see the vulnerability in her eyes when they’d discussed her past. He had a sneaking suspicion her equilibrium was more upset than her heart. Regardless, she deserved a quiet night without a big hulking horndog harassing her.

The sight of her in his flannel shirt had brought out a strange protective streak. Holding her in his arms, with her burrowing into his chest, felt almost as good as the sex part. It felt right. Like she belonged there. The snobby city girl with her manicure and stiletto boots and designer duds. Christ. He was getting in over his head.

“Marcus?”

He spun around and his breath caught. Standing on his porch was Sex Fantasy Number One. Ami Jordan with an unbuttoned shirt, no pants, tousled hair, wearing his Timberlands unlaced and ready to fall off her feet. She leaned over the porch railing and offered him a small smile.

“Is this how you start every day? Your lumberjack routine?”

He wished he could rearrange his hard-on, but that wouldn’t be too subtle. “Some mornings.” His voice sounded rusty. He leaned down to prop the block buster against the stump.

“What are you doin’?”

“Uh, just splitting up the end of this timber.”

Ami curled a piece of hair around her finger. “What’s that tool called?”

“A splitting maul. I’ve had it for years.”

“Why don’t you use power tools? Wouldn’t that be faster?”

“I use those for larger pieces of lumber. For the smaller pieces, I enjoy doing it myself. It’s good exercise.”

She nodded and leaned a bit farther over the railing, giving him an excellent view down her shirt. Which appeared to be her intention.

“You sure look good chopping that wood.”

Marcus held back a groan. Ami didn’t look vulnerable right now. She looked…hot.

“Didn’t you promise me flapjacks? I’m hungry.”

Her pout nearly made him fall to his knees. “Yeah. I promised. With real Vermont maple syrup. None of that fake crap you city folk use.” He headed toward the cabin, trying not to sprint.

“You mean Mrs. Butterworth? I love that stuff.”

“It’s filled with preservatives and chemicals. You shouldn’t be eating it.”

Ami raised a brow as he stomped up the front steps of the porch. “Oh really. You gonna make me stop, Big Guy?”

Marcus noticed three things simultaneously. One, Ami was staring at the crotch of his jeans. Two, she was licking her lips. And three…

She wasn’t wearing any panties under his flannel shirt.

“Turn around. Face the railing. Hold on and don’t let go.” His voice rumbled so low and gravelly he wasn’t sure if she’d heard everything he said.

Her eyes grew large, and then she nodded and turned. She placed both hands on the railing and glanced at him over her shoulder.