Bewitching the Lumberjack (Sexy Lumbersnacks #15)

Chapter 1

Flint

I shuffle out into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffeemaker.

Once my daily addiction is brewing, I go through my morning ritual of washing up and throwing on a pair of Dickies and a clean flannel from the laundry basket.

The coffee maker beeps as I lace my steel-toe boots.

Standing up with a slight groan, I head back into the kitchen and pour myself a cup of joe.

As I drink it, I prepare my lunch for the day, throwing it in the banged-up metal lunchbox that my father gave me eons ago when I followed his footsteps into the logging business.

Draining the mug, I toss it into the sink and throw a frozen egg sandwich into the microwave before turning it on.

Then I grab my travel mug, filling it with more coffee before visiting the bathroom one last time.

The microwave beeps as soon as I return to the kitchen, and I grab my insulated jacket first, throwing it on before grabbing the sandwich and wrapping it in a few paper towels. Keys in my hand, I grab my lunchbox and travel mug, heading out into the freezing early morning air.

Our current worksite is a forty-five-minute commute for me, but I don't mind it. It allows me to listen to my sports podcast as I drive the windy mountain roads.

Arriving at the site, I see that Culver, my second in command, beat me to it along with Aldo and Deegan. As we set up, more of my men arrive, and after Culver and I have checked over the equipment, I brief my crew on the day's cuts.

The section we're working today is a steep slope covered in Ponderosa pines and Douglas firs, all marked for harvest by the forestry service.

We've been working this tract for three weeks now, and we're finally making good progress.

The ground is frozen solid, which makes it easier to move equipment around without tearing up the earth.

Culver and I walk the perimeter one more time, double-checking our fall zones and making sure everyone knows where to position themselves. Safety is everything in this business, especially on a day like today when the cold makes everyone a little slower, a little less sharp.

I gather the crew in a circle and go over the plan again, making sure everyone's clear on their assignments and escape routes.

The sun rises in the sky. The day is bitterly cold, but the weather is good overall, and the morning flies by without incident.

Lunch is all of us sitting around in the woods talking sports or about someone's pathetic dating life. Since this is probably one of our last really good December days, we work until sundown before calling it quits.

I return home by seven, exhausted and starving, grateful that I made a pot of potato leek soup over the weekend. I quickly heat a serving on the stovetop before collapsing on the couch with a beer.

My eyelids are heavy, so I don't bother starting a fire. Once I devour the bowl with a hunk of bread, I quickly wash the dishes and then take a long hot shower before throwing on my boxers and collapsing into bed. Tomorrow will be another long day of logging.

"You ready, boss?" Aldo asks, standing by his truck.

"Yeah. Thanks for driving me today."

"No problem. I'm happy to, for as long as your truck's in the shop."

"Luckily, Conrad says it'll be a quick fix, so I don't think I'll be a burden too much longer."

"Not even in the slightest, boss," Aldo says with a grin.

As we head back to where we live on Ravenhart Mountain, my stomach loudly growls, making my crewman laugh.

"Hey. I'm hungry too. Do you want to stop at Ravenhart Mountain Diner?"

"Actually, that sounds amazing. I would not mind one of Nancy's tuna melts."

Ten minutes later, we are walking into the restaurant, and both owners, Nancy and Sheila, are working tonight.

"Flint and Aldo, what a sight for sore eyes," Sheila says, pulling us in and cupping our cheeks with her hands as she looks us over.

Aldo and I settle into a booth by the window, and soon we are tucking into delicious diner food.

"Nancy, your tuna melts never fail," I call out.

She grins at me from behind the counter, continuing to wipe it down. Sheila slides into the booth next to Aldo.

"Are you two boys still single?" She teases us, making Aldo groan.

"It's not exactly easy to date when you work ten to twelve-hour days and live on a mountain," he says, side-eyeing her.

"Everyone has someone out there for them," Sheila says, and I can't help but choke back a laugh. "Oh, stop being such a grump, Flint," she scolds.

"Hey, I'm just a realist. I'm 55 years old, and I live a loner mountain man life working long ass days. I'm with Aldo here. It's not exactly easy."

"Well, it doesn't mean it won't happen, Mister Grump," she chides.

Nancy wanders over from the kitchen, placing a hand on her wife's shoulder.

"Is my bride harassing you about your love lives again?" she asks with a knowing smile.

Aldo nearly chokes on his food. "How did you know?"

"We've been together for over fifty years now. A wife knows," she says with a wink.

Sheila stands with a guilty smile. "Fine. Fine. So, are you two ready for the coming storm?"

I nod, chewing my sandwich and swallow before saying, "Yeah, but thanks for the reminder. I need to bring in more wood."