Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
LOGAN
The cold wind soothes my hot skin as I heft an axe over my head and bring it down swiftly, cracking the log sitting on the stump smoothly in half. Without a word, my friend Beau slides another one into place, then sips his beer.
I lift the hem of my dark blue Henley to wipe the sweat off my brow, and then I swing the axe again, splitting the log in one efficient stroke.
But it doesn’t matter how hard I exert myself. I could cut down the entire forest surrounding my large, cabin-like home nestled here among the pines and it wouldn’t be enough to chase a certain young realtor from my mind.
“Maybe…” Beau starts but doesn’t finish, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
Beau’s known me my entire adult life. We first met over twenty years ago when we spent summers working for the same logging company, doing real “mountain man shit” as we used to call it.
I became a master carpenter, while Beau settled in town and became a park ranger, eventually working his way up to the head of the Mountain Rescue Service.
While he was doing that, I started Armstrong Construction, pouring everything I’d learned about carpentry, forestry and conservation into building sustainable, aesthetically pleasing commercial spaces.
“Maybe what?” I ask, tipping my chin at the pile of logs I need to split. Beau places another on the large stump.
“Maybe you should just…I dunno. Ask her out. Or fuck her. Or fuck someone else. Do something, because it’s clearly eating at you.”
“I can’t, Beau. She’s twenty-one.” I swing the axe again, sweat pouring down my spine now. “She’s younger than Hailey. I can’t be that guy.”
“What guy?”
“The middle-aged guy who chases girls half his age.”
“Mmm.” He sips his beer and sets up another log for me. “Fair point.” He shrugs. “So fuck someone else.”
“I don’t want to fuck someone else.”
“Then fuck her.”
“I can’t fuck her.”
“Then you’d better stock up on lotion and tissues.” He shrugs. “Or, you know. Stop jerking the poor girl around and actually buy a house and be done with it.”
My head snaps in Beau’s direction. “I’m not…” But I don’t have the conviction to finish that sentence, because that’s exactly what I’m doing.
“Not what? Dicking around and rejecting every house just so you can keep seeing her?”
“Am I that obvious?”
“You’re as transparent as a wet T-shirt.”
“That’s colorful,” I say, setting up another log for myself since Beau’s too busy taking the piss out of me to help.
“No, it’s see-through. That’s what transparent means,” he deadpans. I roll my eyes as I swing my axe and split the wood.
“Just give me another log,” I say, pointing my axe at the wood pile.
“Doesn’t matter how much wood you cut. You can’t outrun this,” he says, sipping his beer and crossing his arms. Then he adds something under his breath that sounds a hell of a lot like, “Believe me, I’ve tried.”
I cock an eyebrow at him, but I can tell from the set of his jaw that this isn’t something he wants to talk about, so I let it go.
We settle into an easy, comfortable silence, one punctuated only by the thwack of my axe through log after log, my sawing breaths, and wind rustling in the pines, rattling the branches.
Soon, I’m drenched in sweat, and even though it’s below freezing out, I toss the axe aside and yank my shirt up over my head, using it to wipe sweat from my face and chest.
I swing and chop, swing and chop, until my muscles are screaming and sweat streams down my back. And goddammit all, Beau’s right. No amount of exertion pushes Kaylee from my brain.
The quiet is interrupted by the sound of a struggling engine, the sound raw and scraping as a car comes around the corner and up the road.
I instantly recognize Kaylee’s beat up little Honda, with the patches of rust and the side-view mirror attached with duct tape.
The engine grinds as she winds her way towards my house, and I turn my back, setting one last log on the stump.
I split it with a single, arcing swing, then slam the axe into the stump, hands on my hips. Kaylee pulls into the horseshoe-shaped gravel driveway, her car sputtering to a stop behind my truck. How the hell is that thing even running? It seems like it’s about to give up the ghost any second now.
The thought of Kaylee driving around in something so run down, so unreliable—especially in the middle of winter—twists my stomach into a knot, and I know it’s because I want to protect her. Look after her. Keep her safe from everything.
I glance over and meet Beau’s eyes, and he shrugs slightly before heading into my house, making himself scarce. I can’t decide if he’s done me a favor or not.
Kaylee’s car door swings open with a loud creak, and I watch as her slender legs swing out, my entire body tightening at the sight of her.
She’s clutching a stack of papers to her chest, and I can’t help but notice the way her grip on them tightens when her eyes land on my bare chest. Her eyes go wide as she takes me in, shirtless and sweaty, and her mouth drops open, her little pink tongue darting out to lick her lips.
Hell, yeah, sweet girl. Look at Daddy, just like that.
I’m going straight to hell, aren’t I?
She tears her gaze away, her cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink.
“Hey,” she calls as she starts to make her way towards me.
The stump where I cut wood is off to the side of the house, by the garage.
Her eyes go wide as she takes in my place, and I instantly want to know what she thinks.
“I’m sorry to just drop in on you like this, but I didn’t want to wait.
I…” Her eyes do a slow walk up and down my chest and then she gives her head an adorable little shake.
“I have some new listings for you to look at,” she says, extending the printouts towards me.
Her hands are shaking slightly. From the cold?
Or from the magnetic pull between us that only seems to get stronger and stronger the more time we spend together.
Am I ever going to be able to just walk away from her?
A week ago, I would’ve said yes. Now?
The idea of not seeing Kaylee on a regular basis has me pressing a hand to my sternum because it fucking hurts.
Fuck me. I’m in love with Kaylee Murphy.
I want to fuck her, sure, but I also want a hell of a lot more than that. I want sleepy mornings and cozy nights. I want inside jokes and shared memories. I want to buy her a new car and fix every single problem in her life.
I don’t know how to get her out of my system, and worse, I don’t know if I want to, even though I’m old enough to be her father.
I take a step closer, and her breath hitches as she stares at my chest. Her eyes flick up to mine, and then as if she can’t help it, back down, her gaze tracing over my pecs, my abs. It occurs to me that I should grab my jacket and put it on, but I don’t want to. I like her eyes on me way too much.
She looks up at me again, almost shyly, and I clench my jaw to stifle the groan threatening to break free. She’s so damn sweet and innocent that it makes me want to ruin her. Teach her. Take care of everything for her.
Show her exactly how to be a good girl for Daddy.
Kaylee sucks in a deep breath, her chest moving up and down beneath her coat, and once again, her eyes meet mine. Despite the cold air swirling around us, heat pulses through me.
I’ve never felt so lost before. So sure of what I want, and so uncertain as to what to do about it. If there’s anything I should do about it.
Kaylee smiles so sweetly it makes my chest ache. “I think you’ll really like these. They’re perfect for Hailey.”
The mention of my daughter cools my skin a little. She’d think I’m the world’s biggest perv for having the kinds of thoughts I do about Kaylee, a woman a year younger than her, and she wouldn’t be wrong.
She shifts on her feet as she extends the printouts towards me, and her foot slides on a tiny patch of ice. Instinctively, I reach out, sliding my arms around her and pulling her against me, just like the other day during the viewing, when she caught her foot on that rug.
Pulling her tiny body against me feels like the most natural thing in the world. Like this is exactly where she belongs.
Fuck. I don’t know that I’m going to be able to fight these feelings, even though I know I should.
I can feel my control slipping, bit by bit.
My willpower is a rope, and everything about Kaylee—her beauty, her sweet voice, her pretty laugh, her determination to do her job, her clumsiness, and, worst of all, her youth and innocence—is like a saw, fraying my resolve.
She inhales sharply, and as I gaze down at her, I can see her pulse fluttering in her neck.
Is it possible she wants me as much as I want her? That everything I’m feeling isn’t one sided?
That almost feels like too much to hope for.
“You okay?” I ask, my voice sounding like a rusty hinge.
She nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Thanks. You keep catching me.”
“I’ll always catch you, Kaylee.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop myself.
“Logan,” she says so softly I almost don’t hear it. Hearing my name on her lips always does something to me, something I’m still trying to understand because I’ve never felt this way about a woman before. Not my ex-wife, not anyone I’ve ever dated. No one. Only Kaylee.
Only Kaylee.
My gaze snares on her mouth. Her pretty little mouth with her full pink lips. Just one taste. Maybe I just need a taste to get her out of my system.
But then she takes a step back and presses the papers against my chest with shaking hands. I feel the loss of her like a punch to the gut, and it takes everything I have not to reach for her again. Her cheeks are beautifully flushed, but I don’t know if it’s from the cold, or me.
I feel like I don’t know a fucking thing anymore beyond the feeling that Kaylee should be mine. Is meant to be mine.