Chapter 4 - Craig
I wheeled the cart out of the way so my customer could close his truck’s tailgate, then watched as he checked that everything was secure in the bed.
He nodded, rounded the truck, and shook my hand.
“Got everything you need?” I asked.
He looked into the bed again. “Sure hope so. I have the feeling the wife won’t be happy about how much her little Pinternet project will really cost. But she wanted live-edge floating shelves. I’m just in charge of making and installing them.”
I chuckled. “Hope it all works out. Make sure you anchor them well.”
He laughed. “Paid good money for a stud finder, rather than wreck my knuckles knocking on the wall. And I already tossed the flimsy anchors that came with the kit for the flapper ones.”
I nodded. “Good plan.”
He looked into the bed of his truck again. “And I got one more slab than I needed, just in case.”
“Also, a good plan.” I paused. “And remember the biggest rule: measure twice, cut once.”
He laughed. “As expensive as this was, I’m measuring three times.”
“Live edge pieces from a mill versus whatever the big box store has, it’s worth it in quality.”
He grinned. “And that’s why I come here. I got sick of warped pieces from the big guys.”
I chuckled and grabbed the cart. “Have fun with it.”
He snorted. “Oh yeah, it’ll be a blast.”
We shared a laugh, then he climbed into the truck as I headed back to the building.
The distinct sound of an older truck and tires on gravel caught my attention. I turned to see a two-toned beater pull into the yard.
I waved to my customer as he drove out, then turned to where the newcomer had parked. He got out of his truck, and I was prepared to greet him, when a shaggy brown dog jumped out behind him.
I froze. Did the mill allow dogs?
Should I tell him to leave the dog outside? Leash it?
My thoughts were interrupted by a coworker striding over from the yard.
“Randy!” Oscar called. “Come here, Spud!”
The dog barked and took off with a grin, tongue lolling as he sprinted to where Oscar had crouched.
I guess the dog is ok?
The man—a sturdy omega with brown hair and a full beard—strolled up and gave me a polite nod.
Damn, he’s gorgeous.
Oscar stood from where he’d been scratching behind the dog’s ears. “Randy, this is Craig. He’s the new guy around here. Craig, this is Randy. He comes in once a month or so to treasure hunt in the scraps and burls. He’s a turner, so he's always looking for good grain patterns.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, sticking out my hand.
Randy accepted the handshake. “Likewise.”
His hand had the dry, tough texture of somebody who regularly worked with wood. His grip was firm. His smile was polite, but I wanted to see joy creasing the tiny wrinkles around his warm brown eyes. Flecks of sawdust caught the light like stars from his beard.
“And this is Russy,” Oscar continued, motioning to the dog. “But we all call him Spud.”
I forced myself to stop admiring Randy, crouched, and held out my hand for the dog to sniff. “Hello, Russy.”
It only took a few sniffs for the dog to decide that I was ok, then he ducked his head under my fingers in an obvious attempt to get me to scratch his ears.
I chuckled and obliged.
“Most dogs we ask to be leashed,” Oscar continued. “But Spud’s one of the exceptions. He’s good about sticking with Randy unless one of us calls him.”
“Got it,” I replied, then stood. I brushed my hands against my jeans and did my best to be professional. “Anything in particular you’re looking for today?”
Randy glanced over at Oscar with a raised eyebrow.
Oscar laughed. “Craig here isn’t stealing you. I was just checking on some stuff for a client.”
“Oh yeah,” Randy chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “How’s the promotion treating you?’
Oscar shrugged. “Can’t complain.” He then clapped my shoulder. “Speaking of, however. I’ve gotta get back upstairs and return a phone call. Craig will help you out, though.”
Randy nodded, clasped Oscar’s hand, and pulled him into a hug. He patted his back a couple of times, then stepped back. “Good to see ya.”
“Same. Hopefully, we can chat longer next time. Maybe you can tell me what you planned for that crotch.”
Randy snickered. “I don’t expect it to be dry until next year at the earliest. But honestly, I expect two years. Maybe I can tell you then.”
Oscar laughed. “Looking forward to it.” He then turned to me. “Take good care of him, Craig.”
I nodded. “Of course.”
He headed in, and I turned to the handsome omega. “So… anything in particular you’re looking for?”
He shrugged. “Guess I’ll know when I see it. But if you’ve got anything with interesting spalting or figure, I’ll take a look.”
I racked my brain, trying to remember if I’d seen anything for the stunning man in front of me. Some base instinct wanted me to find and court him with the perfect pieces of wood. Finally, I sighed. “I think I saw a couple of limb pieces that should have some nice grain.”
He made a face. “Maybe…”
“Too much tension?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No. But I think I have plenty of limbs.”
“Oh…” I deflated.
“I’ll let you know if I think of anything in particular, though,” he stated. Then he patted his leg. “Come on, Russy.”
I stared as he walked into the building, dog at his side. I swallowed as soon as the door closed behind him.
Logging tended to be a boys club, and an alpha boys club at that. There were women and omegas on the mountain, but I was still getting used to interacting with them on a daily basis.
This, though… this was different.
Randy was probably the most beautiful omega I’d ever seen. And every instinct told me that he was the one for me.
But he’d come in to get wood… and not mine. Not to mention that trying to hop into bed with a regular customer probably wasn’t good for any job advancement opportunities.
I forced down the urge to trail behind him like a creep, then stepped into the building. I spotted him browsing the scrap bin, so I veered to the counter.
“You ok?” asked Harrison, the other floor salesman. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”
I blinked. “No? What makes you think that?”
He chuckled. “Dude, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. But I’ve been here long enough to know the place isn’t haunted. I figure the only thing left is you were a dumbass loading that guy’s truck and smashed your fingers between some boards.”
I held out my hands. “Try again.”
One of his eyebrows went up, but the sound of cascading wood pieces caught my attention. My head snapped to where Randy was still digging through the scraps.
My heart beat in my chest, even as he seemed oblivious to the fact that some of the pieces he’d moved aside had tumbled in the bin. He lifted another small block—not much larger than his hand—ran his thumb across it, then set it atop the pile.
“Craig?” asked a voice.
The rush of blood against my eardrums started to subside, even as the rest of my senses were focused on protecting my omega.
He picked up another piece of wood—cedar, if I had to guess—and turned it in his hands. He tapped it against the edge of the bin, then nodded at the clear pinging sound.
“Craig?” the voice repeated, then, “Ohhhhh.”
He dropped the piece of wood into a bucket on the flatbed cart, then turned his attention back to the scrap bin.
He’s safe… it was just scraps… he’s not hurt…
“Craig?”
I jumped as a hand landed on my shoulder. I spun to see Harrison studying me.
He leaned in, voice low. “Take a moment outside.”
“Wh-what?”
“Look man, I don’t know what’s happening in your head, but your scent is spiking. People are going to notice.”
I swallowed. “Ok.”
Harrison nodded. “I’ll let you know if I need you.”
“Yeah…” I replied. I glanced over to where Randy was still sorting through the bin, then headed toward the back door, rather than face potential customers up front.
Even as I left the counter, my ears were attuned to the clacks of scrap cuts as Randy continued to dig. My senses were primed to detect the signs of distressed omega.
It took every bit of willpower to walk away.
The smell of freshly-cut wood and the din of the various saws were like a shock to the system as I exited out the back. Men yelled to each other, the sound mingling with the reverse beeps of equipment as planks were taken to the kiln and logs were brought in to be processed.
I moved to one side of the door, then leaned against the building.
It didn’t make sense. I’d known a couple of people who’d found their fated mates, and this was nothing like they’d described. There was no insatiable urge to drag Randy off for immediate breeding.
And the gorgeous omega didn’t seem to react to me at all. If we were fated, surely he’d have felt it too.
But I’d been attracted to other men in the past and not experienced such an immediate and overwhelming desire. Even putting that little bit of distance between us hadn’t helped. I wanted to go back in and learn more about the man that my alpha side insisted was my mate.
I took several deep breaths until my pulse started to settle.
I knew better. I’d worked around wood for more than a decade, and the sounds made by small pieces were distinct from any large enough to cause injury. Not to mention that it was a sound I heard several times a day as the kilned scraps were moved from where they’d been cut off to the front.
It wasn’t like we were gentle when tipping a bucket of wood into a bin.
My thoughts returned to Randy looking for the perfect piece, and I decided to make myself useful.
I strode over to the door to the equipment section of the mill and let myself inside, then I walked over to where the kilned planks were cut to size.
As expected, another bucket of scraps was almost ready to go out.
I started digging through the small pieces, looking for anything interesting. He’d mentioned spalting, but I didn’t spot any of the telltale fungal lines. So I rummaged in the bucket, hoping to find some interesting grain patterns.
Once again, I came up empty-handed.