Chapter 3
DASH
Normally I love analyzing trees, learning more about them, and discovering which ones are the most valuable to high-end furniture makers. Today, my mind keeps wandering.
I've never watched the clock this closely before. I can't stop checking my phone, waiting until just the right time to text Bridget. I want to catch her after the morning rush, but before the lunch rush. At two minutes to eleven, I can't wait any longer.
Me: Good morning, my beautiful Bridget. What time shall I pick you up after work?
I've barely slid my phone back in my pocket when I feel a buzz.
Bridget: You just assume that I'm going to be free?
Me: If you would prefer that I pay to spend time with you, I'll certainly consider it. I don't know what that says about either of us, but I don't even care.
Bridget: I don't know if you just called me a lady of the evening, or implied that you're desperate to hang out with me again.
Me: The second one. Definitely.
Bridget: Most of my gossip, sorry, "accidental overhearings", have made me think you Oakley boys were normal. I'm going to have to reassess.
Me: I'm the weirdo in the bunch, for sure. But I'm not that bad, am I?
Bridget: Umm…pass.
Me: Ha ha. May I pick you up at five tonight?
Bridget: No, you may not.
My heart stops for a solid ten seconds until the next text comes in.
Bridget: I work until six tonight. If you're a good boy, I'll whip us up some sandwiches from the kitchen.
Me: I was hoping to take you out for a proper dinner.
The three dots hovered for a while.
Bridget: I don't think I'm ready for that yet. Can we find a park or something?
Me: I've got a whole forest, beautiful. See you at six.
Bridget: Cheeky little monkey.
I love that even through text she brings the sass.
The afternoon flies by, and I'm careful to arrive at Acorns five minutes early.
I'd go inside and wait for her, but I don't want her to feel rushed.
So I just lean on what I'm already thinking of as "her side" of the truck.
A group of older ladies departs, each carrying an identical chunky orange paperback, leaving the café almost empty.
A few minutes later, Bridget comes out with a large paper bag. As I help her into the truck, I cage her for a moment, my hand gravitating to the small of her back as I nuzzle her hair. "I missed you after just one day. Maybe I really am a little weird."
Bridget's smile is pure sunshine. Once she's buckled in and I start to drive, she asks, "Where are we going?"
"It's a secret." Her smile falters. Reaching out to clasp her hand, I stroke her fingers gently. "I swear to you, beautiful, it's a happy little kind of secret."
She pouts dramatically, making both of us laugh.
As the truck pulls off the main road onto a recently-built sideroad, Bridget grins as we pass all of the "private property" signs. She stares in amazement at the beautiful forest. "This is amazing," she says softly. "So many different kinds of trees. It's all so…lush."
That's the exact word I would use to describe the generous curve of her mouth.
I still can't quite believe I managed not to really kiss her last night.
But a truck in her driveway wasn't nearly romantic enough for the location of our first kiss.
This is going to be my one big relationship. I need to start everything out right.
After another minute, we arrive at the workshop, waving to my oldest brother as he's pulling out of the driveway.
"Which one was that?" Bridget asks.
"Ansel. He's a fairly straightforward guy. He accidentally ended up in tech, whipping up some obscure software that sells for a mint because it's highly specialized."
I park, then run around to help Bridget out of the truck. She doesn't really need any assistance, although the cab is pretty high for her. I just want an excuse to grab those luscious hips.
"Technically, I'm the poorest of the Oakleys. Did I just blow my chances?"
She surprises me by cupping my face in her palms. "You know this electricity has nothing to do with money."
"Damn straight."
I carry her bag as we go into the workshop, where I grab a thick blanket before we head out the back door. Our fingers thread together naturally as we walk down a rough path that leads to a clearing.
"Wow," Bridget whispers. "Did you time this so that we could watch the moon rise?"
"And a hundred years ago I planted the trees so that there would be an opening here just for this occasion."
I'm thrilled that she's already comfortable enough to give me another lighthearted smack on the arm. Once the blanket is in place and we're sitting close together, enjoying our sandwiches, she asks, "What kind of work did you do before you came back here to be a lumberjack?"
"I ran a contracting business. At first I was doing most of the work myself, but it snowballed, and soon I was writing quotes and coordinating my team all day instead of swinging a hammer."
"It's funny," she says thoughtfully. "You're so at home here in Oakton. Especially here, surrounded by the trees. It's so odd that you left in the first place."
I nod, collecting our sandwich wrappers and rolling them into a tiny ball and dropping them into the paper bag. "We knew Dad wanted to retire early. He didn't tell us why. We figure he knew he wasn't long for this world, and wanted to spend as much time as possible at home with Mom."
Bridget's hand slowly massages my lower back, silently urging me to continue.
"So we all decided that we'd pursue careers in larger cities to give them that time together.
Corbin went into security. He started around here with the Barrow Agency, since his buddy Jackson worked there.
Then he ended up in Kingsville, working for a couple of different companies. "
"That's where you lived?"
"I apprenticed in Brentford first, then moved to Kingsville to start my own company. We already knew that Ansel was a software genius, so he ended up in Silicon Valley for a while. Braden was always really good with accounting and money."
"And you were the…builder guy?"
"Exactly." Smiling, I realize I have no secrets to keep from Bridget at all. "We decided early on that each of us would send twenty percent of our income to Braden to invest in the family fortune, so to speak. Now we can mostly live off our investments, and can take care of Mom forever."
"Yet you've all decided to be lumberjacks?"
"We love this land." Lying back, I guide Bridget down so she can use my chest as a pillow. "We used to camp here every summer. Go on endless hikes. It was like having our own personal corner of the world, which is just as magical at twenty-nine as it is at seven."
"I like that your grandpa settled here and the family is parked forever."
"My great-great grandpa, actually. But my grandpa Dashiell bought up the forest, and really planted roots in the community."
Her fingers trail over my heart. "Dashiell…I like Dash better. I also like that you're maintaining the forest, not chopping it all down."
"Yeah." My heavy sigh shakes her slightly, making Bridget laugh. "My idiot Uncle Lloyd keeps arguing that if we want the forest to be profitable, it should be given to him to deal with, so that the land is properly utilized."
She makes a soft growling noise. "That's bullshit."
I laugh at her unexpected outburst. "You're right. It's total bullshit. But Lloyd has somehow made some interesting political friends, and thinks his opinion matters."
Bridget's hand slowly circles my chest right over my heart. "He comes into the café now and then. Grumpy weirdo. Haven't seen him lately, thank goodness."
I'm impressed that she doesn't pull any punches. Doesn't bother attempting to be polite. I've been with girls who only spoke after analyzing what they thought I wanted them to say. Bridget, though, tells it like it is. Not in a crass unfiltered way, she's just honest.
"For now, we're still analyzing the value of the trees, and figuring everything out. The variety here is incredible, especially down by the pond."
Bridget's knee caresses mine gently as she snuggles against my shoulder. Then her head snaps up and she blinks, staring at me. "You wouldn't happen to have any swamp ash trees, would you?"
"I'm pretty sure we do, yeah. Why?"
She props herself up on an elbow, bright eyes sparkling. "Swamp ash is incredibly valuable. Apparently it produces the best guitar tone. So old growth swamp ash is a hot commodity."
"Really? Cool." Pulling out my phone, I send a quick text to Braden and myself so I'll remember to look that up.
Then I read a few more messages. "Crap. Corbin just varnished all of the floors and trim in his new house, and doesn't want to breathe in the fumes for the next few days. So he is staying with me for a bit."
"Is that bad?"
"Not really. He's a perfect roommate, to be honest. Super clean and quiet. It just means that I don't have anywhere to take you if we want to be alone."
Her head dips, hair passing across her face like a shadow. "We're alone now."
We both sit up straight at the same time, arms wrapping around each other. "Bridget, how old are you?"
"I'll be twenty next month."
"Do you care that I'm nearly thirty?"
"Nope, not at all."
"Do you want this to happen with us?"
The light is fading fast, but it's still bright enough to see the glow in her eyes. "Yes."
"And do you agree that a clearing in a forest—"
"Your forest," she corrects me with a light laugh.
"Right. Do you agree that a clearing in my forest under the moonlight is a darn good spot for a first kiss that we'll remember forever?"
Her chin tips up and down once, then I catch her soft lips against mine.