2. Bear
TWO
Hot damn,who is this woman and where did she come from?
This was meant to be a day of hard work. Top off this gazebo and eat some of the secret family recipe brisket Hunter always bribes me with for help.
Char looks more delicious than that brisket could ever be, and that brisket is the best I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a lot of good brisket.
Her beauty is raw right now, and as much as I can tell that embarasses her, I like her like that. I can see her curvaceous form for what it is in those jeans, her long, flowing brown-black hair rippling in waves down her back. It leads up to frame her face so beautifully, her face’s features as soft as she is, and her hazel eyes shyly looking up at me. Her nervous smile is sweet, but I can already tell there’s going to be some fire there once she gets over her anxieties about her not being as perfect as she thinks she can be.
She’s perfect already, and I think if I persist in telling her, it may well start coming out as kinda creepy.
Instead of laying it on any thicker, I try to keep my focus on the whole reason I came here in the first place, which is the gazebo Hunter is building. I run my hands over the wood, looking for any problematic warps and defects in it.
“So, are you a carpenter like Hunter?” Char asks as she follows me, interested in me being interested in other things.
“Not so much. We both know how to cut wood, just for very different purposes. He knows how to make things by doing that. I just know how to knock down trees.”
She laughs. “You’re a lumberjack?”
“More or less. Why’s that funny?”
“Us city types see a lot of dorky guys with jobs like programmers and coders, going around with full fluffy beards, flannel, overalls, and wool caps. They look like lumberjacks in every way besides having the body that would come with felling trees. Like you have.”
I smirk. “I appreciate you noticing.”
“Hey, when I see something I like, I gotta go for it too.”
We both laugh.
“Just funny that after so many wannabes I waited for at the diner, I went and ran into the real thing.”
“You think I should grow out this beard?”
“I mean, I like what you have now, but some whiskers wouldn’t be bad either.”
“When I do some heavy-duty cutting with a chainsaw, I wear a heavy-duty mask. I don’t want to fill my lungs with sawdust after all. A big, thick beard wouldn’t let me wear it right. Maybe when it”s time for a replacement I’ll find one that’s more beard friendly, but I’m ultimately a pragmatist: I don’t want to mess with something that’s working for me.”
She’s following my examination of the gazebo’s wood closely, still very interested in me being very interested in things.
“I guess you have the fresh outdoor air to counter all the sawdust though,” she says. “I’m really enjoying how clean it feels, after being in the city for so long.”
“You can taste the air through the scent of the brisket?”
She gives me a playful glance. “You know what I mean.”
“Maybe you’re more of an Evergreen Valley girl than you think you are, Char. It’s different out here. Slower pace. Less people, but you get to know them more.”
“Maybe I am. I came out here to try to figure out what I’m doing with my life. Right now I have no idea.”
“No dreams?”
“Sort of? I don’t know. I never got to slow down enough to really think about it all. Just going from job to job, and when I’m not employed.”
As I run my hand over the next bit of wood, I’m stopped. Something’s latched on to my shirt. Instinct takes over, I just try to power through, it and then I realize my mistake.
“Watch out, your shirt is caught on... Oh no,” Char says, her warning half a second too late.
I first look at the culprit. A nail that’s not hammered down all the way. Hunter or I made a mistake here, and we’d just have to fix it.
“Oh no, there’s a hole in your flannel,” Char says. And I confirm her worried-sounding statement.
“Damn, and I really liked this shirt.”
“It’s fixable,” she says. “Don’t talk about it in past tense yet.”
“Nearest tailor is in the city, and I don’t think I have the patience to drive that far for a shirt.”
“You don’t have to go anywhere. Stay right here.” She runs off the gazebo and down to her car. She digs through it, before coming back with a pink canvas bag. “Take off your shirt.”
My smile widens. “I thought you didn’t want to be so forward.”
She turns red, suddenly realizing her phrasing. “Well, I can’t exactly do the needlework with you wearing it. Unless you like being poked with sharp things over and over.”
“I’ll try anything once with you, babe.” I unbutton my shirt, and the two of us go over to a much flatter surface on one of the picnic tables near the gazebo.
She lays it out, focusing on the hole and pulling out a needle and thread.
“Didn’t expect a city girl like you to be a seamstress.”
“I’m broke and have been for a long time. I’d be even more broke if my grandmother didn’t teach me how to use a needle when I was a kid. I”ve saved so many pieces of clothing from the trash, and every time I do that, I save a little money repairing them.”
She gets to work, closing the hole in the flannel, mending the tear caused by the unruly nail.
I watch her as she’s focused, in her element. She’s enjoying herself doing this. “Have you ever thought of making a career out of this?”
“I can fix clothes, but mostly what people want are ones who can do needlework for making new stuff, and I’m not really sure how to do that.”
“You got talent in repair. I feel like you could move that over to other things pretty easily.”
“I’d need to take a class or something. Or have a lot of free time to teach myself. And I got neither the money nor time for those.”
“You just need the help to get the time so you can do those things.”
“There we go,” she says, wrapping up her work. “It’s not a perfect repair, but it’s close enough, I’d say. Honestly, it gives it a little character.”
I examine her work. “Almost as good as new. And out here in the woods, if something looks too pristine, it’s out of place. I like how it looks. Thanks, Char.”
She smiles at my praise, before realizing I’m shirtless in front of her and then taking in my bare chest. She wasn’t lying when she asked me to take my shirt off for purely altruistic reasons, but now she’s just enjoying the other benefits. She helps me pull my flannel on, but then starts to do the buttons for me. I’m not useless as a man that I need help with that, but I ain’t going to stop her either. I like the feeling of her touch going down my chest, tickling me through the coarse hair.
“Dinner’s ready,” Savvy announces, walking toward us, and seeing the scene of what’s basically Char feeling me up. “And it looks like you two are wasting no time in getting to know one another.”
We both nervously grin her way. Char gives her friend a nod. “Hey, I heard you when you left us alone. You can’t say you didn’t expect this, Savvy.”
All I know is I never believed to meet a beautiful woman like Char, and I didn’t know what to expect next.
But I couldn’t wait to find out.