Hitched to the Lumberjack (Sexy Lumbersnacks #9)

Chapter One

Sloane

I pull into the busy parking area behind Ridge Diner in Pine Peak, ready for my weekend mountain adventure away from city life.

The air smells like fresh pine, grilled burgers, and something sweet from the bakery next door.

My rental car hits the big black truck parked in front of me with a soft thunk.

A massive, bearded mountain man climbs out of the truck, all broad shoulders and flannel stretched tight across a chest that looks carved from one of the pines surrounding the town.

Instead of the scowl I expect, he flashes an easy, crooked smile that reaches all the way to his kind hazel eyes.

He rubs the back of his neck with one huge hand and lets out a deep, rumbling laugh that vibrates straight through me.

“Well, shit,” he says, voice warm and friendly like melted honey. “You hit my truck.”

His deep voice and smile send an unexpected flutter through me. I climb out of the car, smoothing my skirt and adjusting the cute off-the-shoulder top. I tilt my head back, way back, to meet his gaze.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, trying not to stare at the way his thick dark beard frames a ridiculously handsome face. “I swear I’m usually better at parking. You’re just really big. The truck, I mean. The truck is really big.”

His cheeks flush the faintest shade of pink beneath the beard.

He rubs his neck again, looking almost shy for a man who could probably bench-press my rental car.

“Yeah, she’s a beast. Name’s Forrest Kane.

” He glances at the dent, then back at me with a slow, warm smile.

“You okay? Did I startle you or anything?”

The genuine concern in his voice catches me off guard. Most men back in the city would have already launched into a lecture. Forrest just stands there looking like a giant teddy bear who happens to be six-foot-five of solid muscle, and something about that combination makes my pulse quicken.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, offering my hand. “Sloane Bennett. I’m the one who should be asking if your truck is okay. I can pay for any damage. Really.”

He takes my hand in his, and the warmth of his calloused palm swallows mine completely. A spark shoots up my arm at the contact. His grip is gentle despite its size, careful like he knows exactly how strong he is and doesn’t want to hurt me. When he releases me, I find myself missing his touch.

Forrest crouches down to inspect the spot where my bumper met his, giving me a perfect view of the way his jeans hug powerful thighs. He runs a big hand along the paint, then straightens up with that same easy smile.

“Not even a scratch on her. Yours looks fine, too.” He pauses, tilting his head as he studies me, hazel eyes warm and curious. “You’re not local. I would remember seeing you before. First time in Pine Peak?”

I nod, tucking a strand of glossy dark hair behind my ear. “Weekend getaway. I needed some fresh air and a break from the city. I figured mountains and trees sounded better than another Saturday scrolling through my phone.”

His eyes light up like I just told him the best news he has heard all week.

“Well, you came to the right place.” He rubs the back of his neck again, almost shyly.

“Since I’m the one who parked my truck in your way, the least I can do is buy you a cup of coffee, or if you’re not busy tonight, maybe I could take you to Peak Tavern.

They’ve got great burgers and dancing on Saturday nights. No pressure, of course.”

The invitation hangs between us, sweet and sincere, with just enough hesitation to make it charming.

Something about his straightforward kindness and the way his gaze keeps drifting to my mouth makes my pulse race in a way that has nothing to do with the minor fender tap.

This is supposed to be a simple weekend getaway. Nothing serious. Just fun.

Looking at Forrest Kane standing there in the golden light, all broad shoulders, kind eyes, and that adorably hopeful smile, I cannot find a single reason to say no. In fact, the idea of spending more time with him feels right.

“I’d like that,” I tell him, my voice softer than I intend. “A lot.”

His smile lights up his whole face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Then it’s a date. Seven o’clock? I’ll save you a seat at the bar.”

I slide into my car, pulse still racing. As I pull out of the parking lot, I catch him in the rearview mirror, standing tall and strong, watching me leave with that same easy, hopeful grin.