Liberated by the Logger (A Fort Collins Rocky Mountain Man Novella #1)

1. Aspen

CHAPTER ONE

ASPEN

W ell, this sucks.

When my absentminded boyfriend—Gary—changed our brunch plans last minute for something more exciting , I didn’t think we’d be tromping through the uneven terrain of the Rocky Mountains National Park.

Heck, he didn’t even tell me how to dress for the day. Had I known I’d be hiking for Lord knows how long, I would have worn suitable attire. Sneakers and a thin windbreaker are not durable enough for this environment. My hiking boots and hooded down coat would’ve been a better fit for this dreary fall day.

With Gary, I should know better. My tree-hugging, hippy boyfriend would live in a yurt in this national forest, smoking the wild weed he collects and living off the land, if the park rangers didn’t force him off the grounds every time he tried to claim squatter rights. There’s nature lovers and nature obsessed—Gary is the latter.

As my ankle rolls over another stone, I grumble a curse at my stupidity for not demanding Gary tell me what I would need for this less than exciting outing.

Don’t get me wrong. I love nature. The gorgeous Rockies are one of the main reasons I chose to attend Colorado State University Warner College of Natural Resources for my doctorate in forest science. It’s where I met Gary—not in class. He’s not a student. He’s a nature fanatic I met while I was collecting specimens in the forest. Most of my education takes place in the field, and I’m usually dressed for the occasion.

Today, not so much.

Glaring daggers at the back of my boyfriend’s head, I test my ankle before putting pressure back on my foot. It’s fine, but the mishap could’ve been prevented had I been wearing my tall Keen hiking boots.

Not bothering to slow for me, Gary plows on ahead with his big backpack and walking sticks like a seasoned pro. “Come on, Aspen. We have to hustle if we want to get to our final destination on time.”

Hustle? Where the hell is he leading me?

As we approach two hours into this hike, we’re fairly deep inside the woods. We’ve out hiked any other sane trekker trying to avoid the forecasted rain. The only other people this deep into the trails are the park rangers patrolling the area and the loggers using their chainsaws in the distance.

Scrunching my face at the cloud-covered sky and feeling the first raindrop of the day land smack dab between my eyes, I flick the moisture away with my finger. “How much further are we going?”

“Not too far now. But we need to hurry.”

I scurry to catch up, my eyes focused on the ground to save me from another accident. “Why the rush?”

And if we’re rushing, shouldn’t we be turning around to head out of the forest before the storm hits?

Suddenly stopping in his tracks, I nearly run into him from behind, catching myself at the last second. Gary points with one of his long walking sticks at the towering skeletal remains of dried up Ponderosa Pine ahead of us. There’s a painted red band around the trunk at chest level, as well as a base marker at ground level—all clear indicators the forestry department marked it for cutting.

Seeing the dead state of the tree on a main hiking trail, it’s understandable why it needs to be removed. It’s a safety hazard to hikers and wildlife, not to mention tinder for wild fires.

“There she is—a tree in need.” Gary grabs my hand, leading me toward the pine.

“In need? Of what?”

“Tender loving care,” Gary answers, dropping his pack at the base of the tree. As he gets down on the ground, Gary hastily unzips the backpack, pulling out a chain and lock. “Here, take these. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Confused, I take the heavy chain and lock from him. “Um, what are these for?”

He smirks at me from where he kneels on the ground, zipping up his bag. “Oh, you’re going to love it. It’s something I’ve been wanting to do for months and finally got the courage to try.”

Springing back on his feet, Gary has a heated look in his eyes, the look he gives me when he’s wound up below the waist. It’s also the look he gets when talking fervently about nature preservation. I’m hoping his reaction is the former.

Last night’s sexcapade was another dud and I could use a good lay not involving my fingers or toys.

He takes me by the shoulders and gently pushes my back against the trunk of the tree. A few dead pine needles rain down on us.

No matter. This miserable hiking exploit has taken an unexpected turn towards Pound Town.

My lower stomach clenches with needy anticipation.

Things are getting juicy!

This is a big upgrade in our lack luster sex life, and I’m all for adding extra spice, as out of character as it is for my boyfriend. I’ve begged Gary for months for more than missionary on my cheap studio apartment mattress. There’s never any foreplay, no matter how much I initiate it. Gary gets too excited, too fast, and it’s over before it’s begun, often with me being left unsatisfied. There have been too many nights I’d finish myself off after he would leave to wherever he pitched his tent for the night, all so I wouldn’t make him feel bad. I’ve gotten to the point of not asking for him to give me pleasure—the let down is too much, and I’m tired of being disappointed.

Unsurprisingly, I’ve been contemplating breaking up with Gary. I’m not getting much of anything from our relationship—definitely not in the bedroom department. And, if I’m being honest, not a whole heck of a lot more in the emotional department, either.

Sure, we share a love of nature and desire to protect it. But Gary isn’t interested in learning about my desires outside of our shared interest. From my experience, if it’s not important to Gary, it’s not worth his time. For a long time, I was okay accepting him as is. I’m not sure why. What I know is this trip was a deciding factor for me to continue the relationship or not.

With the weight of the chain in my hand, I’m willing to see what Gary has in mind. I didn’t take him for the bondage type, but everyone has a kink, right? I mean, I don’t have a ton of bedroom experience, and I’m merely making the logical assumption most people have sexual preferences. Bondage could be fun though.

Aside from Gary, I’ve had two other sexual partners. One involved a sloppy hookup at a fraternity party where I lost my virginity. The dude was a virgin, too—not exactly a thrilling experience. And the other guy was a classmate I dated for half a year during my undergrad. The sex was decent, but we ended things when we admitted we didn’t have feelings beyond friendship.

Gary popped into my life after a looong dry spell. He’s cute and kind of quirky with his long hair, thrift store clothes, and his devotion to preserving Mother Earth. Maybe I was sex deprived, willing to overlook his less than charming qualities—such as always leaving the toilet seat up, to bigger offenses like talking over me during a conversation—in favor of finally having someone who could fill a void, only to find out he can’t fill the void at all, literally and figuratively.

Honestly, I’ve kept things going with him for nearly a year, unsure I can find better. It’s not like I have a ton of options. Men aren’t banging down my door to get a date. My intelligence intimidates most guys, and the guys who aren’t frightened by my intellect are more interested in women who can’t go toe-to-toe with them in a debate.

Not a big dating pool for a short, brainy girl with an independent disposition.

Gary smirks at me as he takes the chain from my hand and wraps it around me and the tree trunk several times.

Oh gosh! This is happening. Aspen is going to have fun with chains.

As I rub my thighs together with expectation, I ask, “Shouldn’t I remove my clothes?”

Gary raises an eyebrow as he sets the lock in place, giggling like I told a funny joke. “Well, that will certainly grab their attention, but not the attention we want.”

“Huh? Who’s ‘they?’”

He throws his thumb over his shoulder to the west where the sound of chainsaws carries on the wind. “The loggers, of course.”

My eyes widen. “The loggers? Why would they be involved with us?”

Hey, I’m willing to try a little bondage, but I draw the line at voyeurism. One kink at a time, please.

Gary quickly slips his arms back into his backpack, his smile stretching from ear to ear. “This is going to be AMAZING! We’re stopping those tree killers from cutting down this beauty and another tree down the trail closer to them.”

I blink slowly, not believing my ears. “Gary, how much have you smoked today?”

He squints, looking up at the sky like he’s trying to solve a complicated physics question before looking at me with glazed eyes. “A few bowls.”

Unbelievable. I’ve stupidly followed a stoner into the Rockies. I could kick myself for not paying attention to his demeanor in the car when I drove us here. To be fair, Gary is usually high when around me, so this isn’t anything unusual for him. But this is the first time he’s been this high in the mountains with me.

“Gary, please listen to me. We’re not saving anything . This tree is dead.”

I lift my leg, kicking the sole of my sneaker back into the trunk of the tree. More dead needles fall around us, proving my point.

Unwilling to listen or being plain stupid, Gary shakes his head at me. “No, Aspen. She needs some love.” He pats the trunk of the pine above my head tenderly, causing the crumbling bark to fall into my hair.

This is ridiculous. He’s ridiculous.

“Gary, not even the fountain of youth could bring her back to life. Now unchain me.”

“There’s no time. I need to get to the other tree before the loggers make their way up here to remove them.”

“No,” I snap angrily. “You need to remove my chains. I did not consent to this stupid plan.”

“It’s not stupid,” Gary says with a pout, looking as juvenile as he’s behaving. “If we don’t take a stand against these money-hungry loggers, who will?”

“The loggers are doing their job, Gary! They can’t harvest in the National Forest unless contracted with the Colorado State Forestry Services. And even then, they’re only removing dead or diseased trees.”

“You need to have faith in my plan, Aspen. You must guard this tree with your life like you’re a woodland fairy.” He bops me on the nose. “Be the tree fairy.”

I scoff, but pause for a heartbeat when I hear thunder rumbling in the distance, almost like it’s mocking my fate.

My stomach twists uncomfortably as the gravity of my situation settles in my gut. “This isn’t safe, Gary. A storm is coming.”

“Good.” He nods with approval. “This tree needs the rain.”

My eye twitches at his aloof response. High or not, he can’t be this dense.

“Gary, you asshat! The tree is dead. Water will not help. Let me out!”

“I know you’re big mad right now, but it will all be worth it if we can save these trees from being cut down.”

He turns toward the trail, set on leaving me defenseless and restrained to a trunk of dried timber with a thunderstorm heading our way.

“GARY! If you leave me here, we are done. Do you hear me, Gary? We are so over!”

The walking dick blows me a kiss before he takes off down the rocky trail.

For a moment, I’m too stunned to do anything but stare at his retreating figure.

He left me. That sonofabitch left me!

Thunder rolls over the mountain, echoing around me. It sounds closer.

Panicked, I tug against the chain wrapped securely around me. It doesn’t budge, no matter how hard I pull and wiggle my body.

I fight my restraints for what feels like forever.

When the sky grows darker, the real terror sets in.

Screaming and kicking is useless. The harder I fight, the more labored I become.

I’m not one to lose my head under pressure, but when I see a bolt of lightning overhead, a sob escapes me and tears track down my face.

This is bad. REALLY. FUCKING. BAD.

I’m forty-five miles away from the city of Fort Collins and civilization. The likelihood of anyone finding me out here with a means to pick locks is zilch. My only hope is Gary coming to his senses and returning to me—something I have little faith in.