Rescued By the Lumberjack (Sexy Lumbersnacks)

1. Piper

1

Piper

“Go on a hike, Piper. Go clear your head and forget all about that loser, Piper.” Mimicking my friend’s voice, a sigh follows soon after.

If anyone here is to blame, it would be Travis’ fault. If he hadn’t broken my heart, I wouldn’t be on this stupid mountain in the first place.

Beneath me, mud soaks through my jeans. I try not to acknowledge how the wetness feels against the underside of my thighs. Despite the discomfort, it’s better than the pain that shoots up my leg when I try to get up.

I just had to hike on a streak of rainy days. Sure, yesterday was kind of bad, but today has been nothing but a light sprinkle. Hardly enough to stop me from getting out of this gloomy slump of mine.

Thanks to a slight slip that turned into a full slide in the mud, my poor ankle got twisted, and now I’ve got a bit of a throb going on. Enough that I’m worried about making it worse by slipping again.

There’s too much mud. I can only imagine what’ll happen if my foot sinks into some, and I really injure myself trying to get it out.

Squinting at my foot, I try to roll my ankle to convince myself that I’m just fine, but I end up groaning soon after.

The crackle of twigs catches my attention. Steps sounding heavy, I hardly imagine them belonging to the average hiker.

I’ve heard stories of bear sightings. What if one of them is hungry and looking for an easy meal? I might as well be put on a platter.

Biting my lip, I hesitate to call out right away. With the chance of getting help being a possibility, I struggle to decide.

I really don’t want to get eaten.

Even worse, none of the birds up above want to chirp or squawk, leaving me to believe something truly dangerous is approaching.

Looking around, I hope to see something before I let my imagination get the best of me and start calling out how untasty I am.

There’s no way I’m actually going to get eaten up here.

Finally, I see it. The bear.

No, not a bear. A man . One tall enough to block out the sun, I swear. He’s got a face of hair, making him look beast-like. His beard is as untamed as the rest of his appearance.

I’m sure of it. This man belongs on this mountain. He will also be my savior because I don’t think anyone else is dumb enough to risk hiking unless they know this land like the back of their hand.

Before he can walk away, I frantically wave my arm, but he doesn’t even glance my way.

“Hello?” Calling out to get his attention, I watch as he jerks slightly to come to a stop. Head turning, he searches until spotting me in my mud puddle.

For a minute, he doesn’t look like he wants to eliminate any space between us. Tucked between a patch of trees, he could play it off as if my voice were a figment of his imagination. From the way he looks back toward his path, I can’t help but think that he wants to go that route.

“I’ve gotten myself in a bit of a pickle here,” I continue, before he can decide. I’m desperate to get off this mountain as well. “Could use a hand if you’re free!”

Trying to sound a little optimistic here, aided with the hope forming in the pit of my stomach, I watch as his shoulders sink. Then he turns my way, and I get a better look at him.

The sense of hope pops and sizzles like fireworks, leaving behind nothing but tingles.

I came to this mountain to get over a relationship. There’s no way I can get all worked up over the first guy to cross my path after agreeing that I’m done with men in general.

The closer he gets as he crunches more sticks beneath thick boots, the easier keeping my promise to myself becomes. I’m quick to see this guy isn’t the friendliest-looking one here.

Where I currently am, I can’t really afford to judge a book by their cover. No, I need this guy to help me.

“Um, hi.” Clearing my throat, I end my short-lived pity fest and try not to look like the pathetic mess that I currently am.

This man-beast stares at me with brows furrowed so deep. He’s got eyes the color of melted chocolate. Dark chocolate, in specific. In this lighting, they’re almost black.

A chill runs up my spine, and I can’t tell if I’m getting goosebumps because I’m nervous or because he’s taking me in one inch at a time.

Oh boy. He’s wearing a plaid shirt that’s clinging to his arms, dirtied with a layer of who-knows-what. In his hand, he’s holding… rabbits ?

All this time waiting for some proof of life other than the few squirrels that mocked me with their nuts, and the first guy that comes across my path is someone with possible blood on his shirt.

Ugh . Maybe I should usher him along and put more hope into seeing another person cross my path. Maybe I can manifest a friendly hiking couple who can offer some snacks. After all, it feels like it’s been a few hours since I last ate something.

He doesn’t speak, almost like he doesn’t know how to. Surely, that can’t be the case. Even on a mountain, everyone who lives up here has to communicate with each other one way or another.

“So, you wouldn’t happen to have a phone on you, would you?” I show him my phone, the screen dark and cracked. “Or a radio or something I can use to call for help. See, my ankle…” I try to lift my leg and groan low in the back of my throat.

The weight of his gaze moves down to my foot, and his frown grows harsher. Like he’s angry that I’ve disrupted his routine, he doesn’t even bother to blink.

Something tells me that this guy is intense. He probably doesn’t talk to a lot of people. Well, I can only get so far when I’m working with silence.

He steps close enough that I can smell the scent of pine clinging to him. Like he was molded straight from the mountain’s surface, he blends in with our surroundings. While I’m distracted breathing him in, I don’t notice him moving his arm until it’s a bit too late.

“Oh no, I don’t–” I squeak when he drops his future dinner against my stomach. Before I can fully wrap my mind around everything that is happening, my breath catches as he swoops down without warning.

A gasp leaves my lips as he lifts me from the wet ground without a single word or grunt. Never mind the mud I’m getting all over him, he hugs me to his chest. He’s warm.

“My bag,” I gasp, looking over his plaid-covered shoulder.

He slowly inhales, and as I expect, another sigh rolls out of him. He cleverly maneuvers us into a position where he can hook his finger in the loop. Thanks to packing lighter than I should’ve, it’s an easy carry.

Distracted by the man himself, I take those eyes of his. Up close, they look less dark. More like salted caramel once the sun hits them right.

Bad, bad Piper. I should not be wondering if this man is handsome beneath his bushy beard or placing bets on my belief that he is.

Instead, I should concentrate on his long strides as he walks effortlessly, unafraid of slipping on mud like I did.

“Um, where exactly are you taking me?” I ask, even though I doubt I’ll get an answer. Much to my surprise, he parts his lips.

He hums with a voice deep enough to let the vibrations resonate through my bones. “Home.”