Chapter Twelve #2
More unanswered questions neither of them would push to answer. Old wounds, when prodded, can cause new aches and pains. And neither of them traveled with a medical kit. Best to stop and enjoy their fragile happiness.
She exhaled. “So we are.”
The lumber yard sat nestled at the edge of the county line, where the hum of everyday life mingled with the distant roar of a waterfall. The air was thick with the earthy scent of wet wood, pine, and cedar, each breath saturated with the fragrance of freshly cut timber.
Tall stacks of logs lined the yard, their rough, weathered bark still clinging to the trunks in places.
The wood was stacked haphazardly in uneven piles—some were perfectly organized, while others had spilled over, creating a chaotic tangle of branches and half-cut logs.
She could hear the occasional clatter of metal as workers wielded chainsaws or sledgehammers to break through stubborn knots.
A sawmill’s sharp, rhythmic whine hummed faintly in the distance, like a lullaby beneath the waterfall’s more turbulent roar.
The workers, rough and weathered, with calloused hands and worn flannel shirts, their faces flushed from the heat of the sawdust-filled air, catcalled them
“Noah, that you with Matt Johnson’s daughter?”
At hearing her name already associated with Noah, Rachel tripped, but she didn’t fall. Not in a physical sense. Noah wrapped a strong arm around her waist, tethering her to his side as if she’d float away without him to anchor her.
“I got you, Six.”
Rachel lifted her lids to an even brighter smile, flashing Noah’s white teeth. “Indeed, you do.”
Noah kept his hand on her lower back, guiding—no, tempting—her to surrender and walk into his fiery furnace, where she’d enjoy every consuming second of his touch. “It’s me, Mr. Boone”—Noah waved—“and Rachel.”
“I know’d it.” He chuckled. “The wife called from the church this mornin’. She overheard Pastor Harris talking about you and little Rachel disappearing from the party last night.”
Rachel’s mouth hinged open in surprise.
Oh no.
Service had a reputation for building a momentous backstory from a molehill of gossip. What she didn’t want was for her and Noah to be dinner table discussion.
Boone clued in to her dismay and jumped to his wife’s defense. “She told me to keep a lookout and report back. After seeing you two back together, the wife owes me a sirloin dinner and a foot rub,” Boone Denton, who Rachel remembered on closer examination, yelled.
“Next time, wager for a month of meals and massages,” Noah joked. “I’m a sure bet.”
Rachel slapped a hand against his chest in jest. “Don’t encourage this. We’re not together, Mr. Denton. I’m here for the wood, nothing else.”
Bemused, the old man smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s what every pretty girl says before she corrals her fella off from the herd.”
Noah bristled beside her, toeing a rock with his boot. “There’s no roping, taming, or corralling happening with me.”
“Of course not,” Rachel said in a voice that screamed, no surprises here. “The great Noah Calvary lives large and in charge of everything in his orbit.” She started walking fast.
With one hand, Mr. Boone scrubbed at his beard in contemplation, watching her run and Noah pursue.
“Well, it seems Tobias is still the smartest of you three boys,” he called after them.
Noah grabbed her hand, pulling her to a halt. “I said that all wrong, Six. You know how it is between us.”
“Forget it,” she sighed, knowing she couldn’t.
Theirs was a tumbled mix of chemistry with chaos.
Could they rebuild from the ashes, or would they just burn?
“Let’s get what we came for.” He nodded, placing a hand at the small of her back.
The gesture acted as a fire accelerant to the smolder behind his stare. Keep walking, Rachel.
The sweet scent of earth, carpet moss, and the wetness of the falls mingled with the dry, woody aroma of Noah and the lumber.
Rachel breathed it all in before exhaling the air from her lungs, until only the tendrils of him caressed her senses.
Stop it. Focus. The ground was uneven, dusted with sawdust, bark scraps, and pebbles, each step crunching softly beneath boots worn long enough to mold to her feet.
In the background, the waterfall’s cascading roar was a constant companion, its spray catching the light and creating a fine mist that dampened the surroundings.
Rachel found what she wanted, and Noah had the order processed and loaded. The yellow birch wood, with its natural metallic-like shine, would serve as a nice contrast with the rustic decor. He gave a quick tug to the bungee cords securing the wood beams in the truck bed.
Rachel recounted them and then hopped down from the tailgate, brushing sawdust from her jeans. “That’s everything for the arch.”
He paused, glancing at her. “Don’t trust me?”
Rachel felt heat creep across her chest before spreading up her neck. “Hard habit to break.”
“Don’t I know it. Wanna carve our initials into a beam for old times’ sake?”
She grinned. “That would be childish.”
“True.”
He opened the passenger door. “Let’s do it once the arch is done.”
“You’re a bad influence, Noah Calvary.”
“Guilty.” He winked. “Hop in. Next stop, Main Street, and your date with Benji.”
Rachel released a long sigh. “And here I thought we were pretending to be on our best behavior.”
Noah turned the key and reversed the engine. “Too much work.”
“You don’t have to—drop me at the Bear. I don’t mind walking back from the farm.”
“I’m sure you don’t, Six. But I like spending time with you.
We used to have fun… building together.” Rachel’s mind flashed to a bare-chested Noah lifting, pinning, nailing beams in place.
Pinning her against the sweat-drenched planes of his body.
The two of them plunging into the cooling water of the falls, bursting through the current in a twisting of limbs.
She shivered against a heated awareness of his proximity. “I only get two weeks, right?”
Her eyes shot up to his. Noah’s tan face broke into a toothy grin. He knew. Knew last night had gnawed its way into her brain. That charming grin collapsed another beam, closing the divide, and narrowing the distance that time and teenaged angst had built.
She sent him a withering look. “You’re toying with me. The song. This drive.”
“I’m doing no such thing. I like having you around. If this is the best I can get, I’ll tell anybody who asks I’m a lucky man to get this much of your time.”