Chapter 2
Declan
Ilock my computer and head out of my office, checking in with my assistant before stepping into the corridor that overlooks the floor. Production is in full swing, this part of the mill responsible for initial log cuts.
The steady sound from below reverberates through me, and a flash of memory from my business trip to Austin two weeks ago is so vivid it’s like I’m there.
Dance music pulses around me as I watch the curvy beauty approach the bar with her friend, hand-in-hand.
Her long, chocolate hair almost reaches her waist, straight and silky, with the ends slightly curled.
I can’t tell what color her eyes are, but her teeth gleam straight and white as she laughs at something her friend says.
When she puts up her arm to wave at the bartender, what looks like a simple short dress turns into temptation in motion.
The sides are cut out maybe two inches, revealing nothing, some silver rings fastening the front and back together, revelaing just enough skin to entice.
Instead of heels, she’s wearing gray cowboy boots that match the dress, bright embroidered flowers sewn into the leather.
I can’t stay away, and when she sees me on the dance floor, we’re drawn to each other, or chemistry off the charts.
Forcing myself out of my damn memories, I’m now at the computer room that oversees the equipment. My younger brother, Gunnar, is checking in with the sawmill operator. I shake my head to clear it and enter. Only certain staff members have badge access to this room.
My brother is watching live camera feeds from different areas of the production line, monitoring that logs are being properly scanned and cut according to the optimization software’s recommendations. It’s an important job, and we pay him well.
After a quick conversation with our guy, Gunnar nods to the hallway, where he gets out his phone. “You seen this?” It’s a social media account for the handle @axemanblue.
“I don’t have time for this, Gunnar.” I start to pivot when my brother grabs my shoulder.
“Take a closer look.”
It’s the shirtless torso of a guy chopping wood. I click a video, instantly recognizing the tattoo on the guy’s lower abdomen. “Motherfucking Ford.” I shove the phone back to Gunnar. “I’m going to kill our baby brother.”
It takes a bit, but I find him in our uncle’s office, where the two are on a video call.
Not bothering to wait until they’re finished, I take a seat at the conference table and flip through the thirty or so social media posts for @axemanblue.
The account has only been open for a couple of weeks, and it’s already got 30,000 followers.
Damn. I set the phone down, and my mind drifts back to Austin and the woman who said no to my number and yes to kissing me senseless. I’m usually a little more discreet with hookups. I at least wait until I’m in a hallway or outside or at least alone before kissing a woman.
“Dec, what’s going on?” Lucas Wilder, my uncle, sits across from me, frown lines etched in his face. He raised me and my brothers after our parents died, and his loyalty is fierce. He owns half of Wilder Industries, with me and my brothers each owning a quarter stake of the remaining half.
I’m too pissed to speak, so I slide my phone across the table as Ford takes his sweet-ass time joining us.
Our youngest brother is the most feral. He does what he wants when he wants and could give two fucks what anyone thinks.
Okay, that’s not true. When it comes to business, he’s all in.
But outside of that? He’s a loose cannon, just waiting to go off.
“Axemanblue?”
The one word from our uncle’s mouth stops Ford mid-stride. He runs his hands through his light brown hair, his Caribbean-blue eyes shining. He plops into the chair farthest from me, likely because he knows I’m about to smack him.
Gunnar takes care of that for me.
“Ow, motherfucker.”
“What the hell, Ford?” I scrub my hands over my face.
“You can’t see my face in any of the pics.”
“Oh, shit.” Gunnar’s eyes widen to the point of almost popping out of his head. He looks at Uncle Luke and then at me. “This video from two days ago has over 62,000 views.”
I close my eyes, my thumb and forefinger clamping the bridge of my nose. I inhale and exhale slowly three times before opening them to see my uncle staring at Gunnar’s phone. Then he starts to laugh, a slow chuckle which bubbles into a full-on fit.
Raising both hands in the air, I ask, “What is happening?”
I look to Gunnar, whose arms are crossed over his chest, his jaw flexing. He is not laughing.
While our uncle tries to catch his breath, I scan videos and find the one that’s at 62,000 views. Ford is splitting a large stump, and off to the side, so is my uncle.
He’s forty-two and extremely fit. He’s the one who taught us that splitting logs is a great stress reliever.
Instead of letting us mope around in unhealthy feelings when our parents’ deaths got to be too much, he’d take us outside and split wood with us.
These days, we still get together with him for workouts, which I’m guessing is why he’s in Ford’s video.
“You think this is funny?”
“That it took me being in the video for it to go viral? Yep. I do.”
All of us Wilder men play hard and work harder. But this is next-level.
I turn to Ford, ignoring my uncle. “How are our customers supposed to take you seriously with these damn thirst-trap videos out in the world? We own and run a multi-million dollar operation. We’re not content creators, dipshit. Take it down.”
I slam my phone down onto the table.
“Not going to happen.”
“Take it the fuck down. I run this mill, not you.”
Ford clamps his jaws tight. “If it weren’t for my sales, our last eight quarters would have been in the red. So eff off.” It’s true, but I can’t see anything past the red haze of anger flowing through me.
“Boys.” My uncle’s voice is sharp as his palm smacks the table, speaking to us like we’re still teens instead of thirty-four and twenty-nine. “Apologize.” I have no doubt he will back one of us against the wall if we don’t comply. Been there, done that, although it’s been years.
Running my tongue over my teeth, I stare at the ceiling, trying to find the words.
As the oldest, it’s always been my job to set the example for the others.
I bite back another wave of anger, letting the words come.
“Sorry for saying that. I know your value here. I just don’t understand why you didn’t consider how this might impact the business. ”
The door swings open, and our other brother, Brock, strides in, sawdust on his tee. He sits across from Ford. “They found out.” It’s not a question.
“You knew?” My voice rises two octaves as I try to process.
“You’re such a dick.” That’s from Gunnar.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist. I just found out this morning. I had to check on the deliveries, so it wasn’t my priority.” Brock is in charge of maintenance, overseeing all machinery throughout the mill.
Uncle Luke knocks on the table, a reminder to get back on track.
Ford looks around the table, his face masked with indifference. “So, what do you all want me to do?”
I keep my mouth shut because everyone already knows what I want. My uncle speaks first.
“There aren’t any identifying landmarks in the video. Just trees. It could be anywhere. And the video of me is from behind. Nobody would know it’s me.”
He basically just gave his approval for Ford to keep the account. Gunnar and Brock nod their acceptance.
I lean back in the chair, my words gritty. “Fine. But I need a guarantee that nothing in these videos will be tied to Wilder Industries. The second that shit happens, the account is deleted.”
Ford nods in agreement.
“Enough, kids. Hank & Lulu’s for lunch.”
My uncle leaves no room for arguing. It’s family first, always, and he works hard at reminding us of that. Having lost an older brother, he won’t put up with our crap for long. He’ll sell the place before he allows business to drive a wedge between us.
As everyone files out, I pull out my phone and stare at it, wishing for the thousandth time I’d pushed harder for the mystery woman’s number. Her friend looked vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place where I’d know her.
It’s just as well. I’m not looking for love, anyway.