Chapter 2
Chapter Two
PAIGE
Ionly needed twenty minutes to see this dark horse’s skills as a lumberjack. The ranch has been buzzing about how he’s an expert at his craft.
Still enjoyed watching him for over an hour, fighting against the obvious tension in his bones as he sawed and pretended my presence didn’t irk him like a sharp pebble in his well-worn logger boots.
If Gabe is paying me to manage our broody new contractor, I might as well enjoy the experience because I have to say, there is something hypnotic, watching this heart-weathered man command the trees.
His stance is sure. Peaceful. Fearless.
He’s attuned to the land. Pays attention to the small things most miss, but I caught them all. How he observed the upper canopy against the sky, watching the wind shift, thudding beneath his boots, picking up the flying chips to analyze the tree’s give.
Heavens, it was masterful. Each clean hinge elegantly snapping its fibers on the fall. Graceful and powerful.
And after each one, he’d take a breath and close those storm-filled brown eyes, hold…then exhale. I could have orgasmed right in that moment. And wouldn’t that have been highly inappropriate to do on the job?
Best to stop torturing the poor enigma. Plus, I’m out of coffee. And that’s simply a crime.
I gather my stuff, mentally logging in his loads that I’ll report to Gabe before lunch at the main house. Movement catches his attention, and he turns off the saw before starting the cut on a new pine.
He stands tall, a saw hanging at his side, and just watches–waiting.
I scoff a laugh and adjust my hat. “Figure that’s long enough for day one. Can’t have you getting sick of my presence so soon.”
Behind that full face beard, thick as a forest of trees in the inky black of night, his jaw tenses and locks. Perhaps it’s cause he still keeps it well-shaped and groomed that I even catch that.
Straight, heavy-set brows hover over those stern, dark eyes that remind me of Serenity’s deep, onyx, mirrored ones.
Only hers are framed by the most gorgeous eyelashes no horse has the right to have.
And she knows it too, that cheeky mare. How else does she get Hunter Cooper, of all ranchers, to bring her extra treats?
We continue to engage in this high noon stare-off.
I don’t like to lose.
“Same time tomorrow, then.” I tip my hat and grin.
“Be a waste of time,” he grunts, his voice perfectly suited for the centaur of Greek tragedies before me.
Mama always reprimands my romantic view on life, but praises my empathetic intuition, which she says I inherited from my Coquille father.
There’s a deep wound that hangs like violent summer storms over Harrison–Aiden Harrison, though no one calls him by his first name. Ever.
“Paige Adulsa Thomas. That curiosity will one day bite you in the rump like a family of chiggers in the summer. Heed your Mama.”
Sorry, Mama. Like you said. I’m my father’s daughter.
“Be sure to hydrate,” I call out as I mount Serenity. “And eat something soon. Lunch is in an hour. Bet you could go hours without feeling time pass,” I smile, not bothering to wait for a response.
I click my tongue and leisurely guide Serenity back toward the ranch. The air rests for approximately twelve seconds before the roar of the chainsaw reverberates through the land.
I smile.
I ride Serenity through the dense break in the trees toward the far side of Wild Peak Ranch. Further up the mountains, the July heat is a mild seventy-four. The sun ascends like a slow yawn, but her rays are a warm welcome against my face.
Yesterday, Gabe listened pensively as I gave my report.
He knows more than he’s letting on, and my skin itched to ask.
I’ve only been here a year, and even though the ranch embraces you like family, I try to tame the curious feline around my superiors.
Besides, it’s more fun to unpack the mystery on your own.
Today begins the new schedule and assignment. My grin grows as we near the marked-out land for Hunter & Wild Distillery’s new farmland, which is being cleared right this moment.
While I oversee our resident dark horse, I’m also managing the preliminary tasks before the cover crop. My mind is running through ranch hands to task various assignments to when the clearing is in view…and with it, a formidable Aiden Harrison, in all his lumberjack glory.
The southwest quadrant is completely cleared. I dismount Serenity, give her the apple she’s been not-so-patiently waiting for, and grab my handmade cedar bark and dogbane backpack.
“Mornin’,” I call out, pulling the tin mugs and thermos from my bag.
Stern, onyx eyes watch through his safety gear as I approach. I fight the grin and drop my bag at my feet, unscrew the thermos, and pour his first of many cups of java. I hold out the mug and wait.
Harrison takes a deep inhale of exasperation as his eyes under those thick furrowed brows pan back and forth between the mug and me. He carefully sets down the saw, removes his safety glasses, and accepts my offering with a grunt.
I think that’s his version of a thank you?
I pour my own and sip, looking at his morning progress. “A lumberjack and a cowgirl walk onto a field,” I begin the joke, grinning.
His stare is a physical touch on my cheek, but I keep my eyes on the clean-cut stumps and downed lumber. The temptation quickly becomes too great, so I turn my face toward him as he takes another sip of coffee and exhales.
I smile. “Good. I know. It’s all about how you prep the beans before grinding fresh, and very important…” I wait for him to give me those eyes. “The temperature you steep the grounds. Too many people burn their roast with water that’s way too hot.”
The man gives nothing in return before finishing his cup and handing it back. “Much obliged,” he mumbles.
“Want another?” I ask.
“No, thank you. Have a good day,” his voice rasps as he turns in an attempt to dismiss me.
“Perhaps after lunch, then,” I say to his back before reaching down for my backpack.
I make my way toward the marked-off land.
“Where you going?” he calls out, which makes me smile.
I ignore him and continue toward the west-facing perimeter. The crunch of dry grass beneath heavy boots follows quickly. I set my pack down and dig out my work tablet and tool kit.
“What are you doing?” he grunts, standing above my kneeling frame.
I glance up, squinting under my hat at the sun that rests behind his large silhouette. “Working. Remember?”
“Here?” he asks, crossing his arms over his wide flannel-clothed chest.
“I thought we covered this.” I get up and start running my hand against the fence, testing for weak points.
“This is a dangerous zone,” he argues, following. “Ain’t no way I’m dropping timber with you nearby.”
Alright, let’s nip this in the bud. I face him and lean against the rustic wooden fence.
“I’m not going anywhere, Harrison. I’m overseeing your lumber project and managing the grain farming efforts.
The farm is to the east of your quadrants, and none of your trees will fall this way, as I’ve already established you are very skilled.
I reported as such to Gabe. So get used to me.
For the foreseeable future, we’re partners.
Sort of. I’m still your superior,” I grin, wink, and turn away to continue my assessment.
I swear he just growled behind me. Brows raised, I glance over my shoulder. Six foot four of grumpy lumberjack storms away, back to his chainsaw.
Scoffing a laugh, I get to work.
I untie Serenity’s reins and walk over to Harrison as he finishes with another quadrant of timber.
“For a one-man job, you’re quick,” I remark.
He pulls off his work gloves and grunts a response.
“Before you delimb or do the bucking, it’s lunch time. Come on,” I say, leading Serenity toward the river.
“I’m good. Got a full day. Gotta bring the forwarder over and get everything from yesterday and today sorted at the landing.”
“Wait,” I face him again as he gathers his tools. “You have your team coming to help with that, right?”
His heavy brow furrows. “No need.”
“You’re really dead set on the lone wolf code of livin’, huh?
” He doesn’t respond, but his frown deepens.
I exhale. “Even more so, Harrison. Gotta eat. Can’t have you passing out from exertion and malnutrition on my watch.
And Serenity here will most definitely protest dragging your ass back to the stables. ”
Air blows out of Serenity’s nostrils in agreement. I laugh, stroking her tawny neck. “See? She’s a stubborn one. Loyal but a pain in my ass, sometimes.” And here’s her signature move: flapping her lips, exposing her gums.
“She yours?” he asks.
“Sure is.”
“Figures,” he mumbles.
I whip my head toward him in shock. “Did you just sass me, Harrison?” I ask with a huge smile.
“I really have a busy day.”
“So do I. So let’s stop wasting daylight and get your ass to the river. I brought lunch for us.”
Knowing he’ll continue to protest, I leave with Serenity, not giving him a chance to opt out. At the river, I tie Serenity by the tree where she can reach for a drink and give her precut chaff.
Down on the grass, I pull out the container from my bag and start preparing two servings of my signature chicken Caesar salad wraps, fruit salad, and cucumber water in the same tin mugs from this morning.
My lips tip up. The shuffled sound of tall grass under heavy boots approaches. From my seated position, with my hat off, I look up, covering my eyes from the sun. “Have a seat.”
“I appreciate this, but unnecessary. I can take my share and eat as I work.”
“Plop that rump on said grass here,” I run my hand over the soft, vibrant green blades, “and calmly eat while looking at this spectacular view. That’s an order from your manager.” I smile up at him, waiting.
The stare contest lasts six seconds before he sighs and sits. I try to hide my satisfaction as I hand him the butcher paper-wrapped lunch.
“Any food allergies?” I ask.
“None.”
“Chicken Cesar salad wrap. Homemade. Cucumber water and the salad here is berries and grapes. Enjoy.”
I unwrap mine and don’t wait cause let’s be honest, I’m starving. I spent all afternoon doing infrastructure maintenance and gathering soil samples for the distillery’s QAM.
I hum happily as I chew and lean back on one arm, enjoying the lull of the lazy river rushing over smooth rocks.
“Goodness, this land is stunning,” I remark after swallowing, then take another big bite.
Beside me, leaving five feet of space between us, Harrison is just now unwrapping his lunch and taking a bite. I watch from my peripheral, dying to know what he thinks.
He pauses his chewing for a second, looking down at the wrap, bewildered about something. I give up pretending and turn my body toward his and take another bite of mine. He glances up and narrows his eyes.
“You make this?” he asks between chews.
“I did. Known around the ranch for these. Added bacon instead of croutons, and the key is making the dressing from scratch. Enhance the savory notes. Good?” I ask.
“I’d say so. Yes.”
I have to quell my smile, or I’ll scare the poor broody stallion back to wherever he came from. Actually…
“You’re not from here,” I state. His accent has a southern tilt.
“No, ma’am.”
“Please. It’s Paige. And I’m not old enough to be a ma’am,” I chuckle, offering fruit.
He grabs some berries. “Definitely too young,” he mumbles under his breath.
“I grew up further south, but my mother and I relocated to Wild Peak when I got offered the job.”
He nods, continuing to eat his lunch.
“You provide lumber services throughout Oregon, but the business doesn’t have a set address?” I inquire.
Yes, I’m digging. His file is so…empty. For Gabe to trust him with such a great task…there’s more to him and his story. But like any wild mustang, you have to approach careful and slow. With patience.
“When is the team scheduled for clearing and harrowing?” he deflects and asks.
Hmm. Right. Too soon, then.
“Well, tomorrow,” I begin, gathering a handful of grapes.
“I’ll be leaving this one with her friends at the stables,” I smile at Serenity, already making her way over.
“You’ve been patiently waiting, so here you go,” I tell her, opening my palm as her leather lips rub along my palm, taking the grapes.
“And then, I’ll ride over with the tractor to get the clearing started,” I finish, wiping my hands on my well-worn jeans.
“You’re doing the clearing?” he asks, looking disturbed. “By yourself?”
I lean back on both outstretched arms and scoff. “Oh, Harrison. Don’t go breaking my heart by being a misogynist now.”
“Of course not,” he growls. “It’s not about that. It’s a large section of land. You should have a team helping, is all.”
“I appreciate your concern,” I grin. “But, I’m pretty efficient behind heavy machinery. Trust me. A field needing plowing hates to see me coming.” He still looks upset.
A soft chuckle escapes as I pour more cucumber water into both our tin mugs. “Don’t concern yourself, Aiden Harrison, the excavators and stump grinders will be a whole team of testosterone you can bask in next month.”
I laugh, glance up, and immediately the smile on my face dies as the shift in his stare grows heavy. His body is locked tight as he focuses unseeingly on the river.
“No one calls me that anymore. It’s just Harrison.” His voice is dark, deeper than usual.
I carefully set down the containers I started to clean up and turn my body to face him. I search his profile, choosing my next words wisely. Or at least…I hope I do.
“I won’t ask if there’s a reason, as obviously, there is. When was the last time people called you by your given name?”
He narrows his eyes at me. I don’t cower. A shifty stallion can sense fear and hesitation. I hold his angry stare with kindness.
“Well, once Aiden, now Harrison…whatever you’ve been running from, I do hope you lay to rest and find peace. You and your business don’t have a set home, but if you were ready for one,” I look out at the wondrous view before us. “Not a bad place to settle.”
I know when to walk away. Wild mustangs, you get close enough to scratch their neck, you always pull away first. Let the dark horse seek your touch again.
I get up, untie Serenity, and start heading back to work.
Centaur Chiron. The wounded warrior, quiet and wise. The ultimate dark horse. Aiden–because I can’t bring myself to think of him as anything else now–may try to shield himself with his large, prickly walls, but behind the tempest sea in those eyes is a soul searching for home.
Twenty-nine years hasn’t made me less curious. I may have no business leading a forty-year old wounded man to water, but a year in Wild Peak, many ranch hands have come and gone. No one has piqued my intrigue as this steady mountain of a man holding back all the storm waves by himself.
He could use a friend. Hell, we all could.
And like it or not, I’m determined to become Aiden Harrison’s friend.