The Lumberjack’s Shy Girl (Acorns & Oakleys #3)

Chapter 1

LYNN

“I’m so sorry, dear!”

Looking down at the spicy red mess all over the front of my brand new cream t-shirt that is now cream of tomato, I realize it's another one of those moments: I can either go with what's natural, which is become silent and run away as quickly as possible, or I can force myself to pretend I'm more outgoing.

What would a confident person do? Crack a joke.

Looking up at the nice older lady who just bumped into me while I was clearing tables, I force a smile. "I see Marco added more herbs to the soup today. I'll have to try it later."

She follows me to the side counter where we stack dishes, looking mortified. "I really am sorry. How much was the shirt? I'll buy you a new one."

Holding up my hands, my smile is definitely forced now.

The shirt was on sale for twelve dollars, and it was the last one.

So much for my brief attempt to try new things, like wearing a lighter color.

My wannabe fashionista older sister would be laughing her head off if she walked in the door right now.

"It's fine, occupational hazard," I say. "Can I get you or your friend anything else?"

She's still flustered. "No, no, we're fine. Thank you so much."

The second she leaves, Sonya pulls me aside, handing me some paper towels. She blocks me from the rest of the café while I wipe the worst of the soup from my breasts.

"It happens to all of us," she says. "It didn't burn you, did it?"

"No, I'm fine." Dropping the soggy towels in the trash, I sigh. "When I'm Queen of the World, we'll have chin-to-knee aprons."

She laughs, shaking her head. "This would never have happened if Elise had been able to come in today. You were so sweet to race in on your day off to cover her shift."

"No, I won't blame her… Okay, I might tease her for a second if it comes up."

Sonya grins, then rushes back to the front counter to serve three people who just walked in for takeout, leaving me to haul a few loads of dishes to the back kitchen.

Marco, our chef, is run off his feet with brunch orders, so I quickly load the dishwasher and turn it on.

"You're an angel!" he calls out from the grill.

I'm grateful that I genuinely like everyone who works at Acorns Café. It's hard for me to speak with customers, so it's good to relax with my coworkers whenever possible.

Rachel, the owner and boss, returns from doing her "chatty lap" of the café.

She does those once an hour or so, topping up everyone's coffee, catching up with the regulars, making everyone feel welcome.

It's a personal touch that distinguishes the place from any chain.

Plus, we've been getting busier lately, and being on the floor herself helps her figure out which days or times might require more staff to make customers feel properly cared for.

One look at my ruined t-shirt and her face falls.

"Well, crap," she mutters. Tapping my elbow for me to follow, she hurries into her office.

Fumbling around on a shelf, she hands me a brown t-shirt with the logo of a brand of coffee we don't even serve anymore.

Maybe customers will think it's some obscure band name, and mistakenly think I'm cool for a minute.

I've been doing a lot of work on myself, by attempting to control my shyness and anxiety, and speaking up a lot more. But cool? No. I'm still pretty mousy.

"It's not glamorous, but it's clean."

"Thanks."

Rachel grins. "No problem." Her chin jerks toward the hall as the back door bell rings. "The deliveries are early," she says. "I'll go find someone to help carry it in."

That's the one problem with having so many women working in the café.

None of us has the upper body strength to lift all of the supply orders.

Some of them we can move together, but not the coffee bean delivery.

Those massive containers are heavy. Marco is always happy to help, but not in the middle of a rush when he's chained to the grill.

Rachel darts to the front as I head to the employee restroom to change. I catch a quick glimpse of Marco's shoulder as he beats me to it and closes the door behind him. Crap.

I duck into the supply room at the back of the building. Pulling off my soupy shirt, I drop it into the work sink to soak. Luckily there are paper towels on a shelf, so I give my formerly beige bra a quick dab. Hopefully I can get the rest of it out tonight.

As I'm trying to pull the brown t-shirt down over my head, the stiff fabric gets stuck. The door opens behind me and I spin, then jump as a loud thud reverberates through the small room just as I manage to push the material down from my face.

Time stops.

The huge, gorgeous, bearded man setting down the coffee crate seems as startled to see me as I am to see him.

He's so handsome that I feel like I'm having an out of body experience.

Tall, broad shouldered, sturdy. Yet there's more.

Something deliberate and steady. And so sexy that my mouth falls open in shock.

Hazel-green eyes blink sharply as he takes me in, instantly turning away. "I'm so sorry."

His voice is rich and deep and shakes me back to reality as I realize I'm still trying to pull the t-shirt down to cover my bra and stomach.

Now would be a great time to be struck by lightning. Please?

"I didn't think anyone would be in here," he continues, blocking the door with his massive frame so that nobody else can peek in.

Thank goodness he's a gentleman. Yanking down the t-shirt, I straighten it out and smooth my hair. The sensation of my cheeks burning in embarrassment is nothing new, but this time I actually feel they might burst into flames.

"Um, it's fine now," I whisper. My normally quiet voice has nearly disappeared entirely.

He turns with his hand dramatically covering his eyes, spreading his fingers slowly. How kind to try to make me smile at one of the most mortifying moments of my life. His hand drops as he holds it toward me. "Ansel Oakley."

Oh, come on now, seriously? I have to have an embarrassing half-naked moment in front of one of the Oakley boys?

Taking a slow breath, I shake his warm, strong hand. "Lynn Nelson." He doesn't release my hand. Strangely, I don't want him to. I can feel my cheeks flushing, hoping that the light is dim enough he might not notice.

"You're trembling."

I'm disappointed when he finally drops my hand, yet his dazzling smile takes over to make me tingly. He steps back, giving me some space so that I don't feel cornered. That's very sweet and observant of him.

"Hey," he says gently. "I'm going to leave, but can I tell you three important things first?"

If this had happened a year ago, I would have been so mortified that I'd already be asking Rachel if I could go home.

But if Rachel sent him to the back room, she trusts him. Plus, the Oakleys are well known in this town, so it's not like he's a random stranger. Most importantly, I'm wildly curious to hear what Ansel, the oldest and most mysterious of the brothers, could possibly have to say to me.

"Sure."

"First, I looked away the split second I realized what I was seeing. I'd never want to make you uncomfortable."

That was good of him. "Thank you."

"Second, the bit I did see…" he reaches out to stroke my burning cheek with his thumb. "You're gorgeous, Lynn. It's your eyes – I've never seen anything like them."

What does a girl say to that? My smile widens, and I nod, unsure.

"Third." Ansel hesitates, straightening up as his thumbs hook into his pockets. "I'd like to take you out." I must look blank, because then he adds, "On a date."

My mouth opens but nothing comes out for an awkward few seconds before I manage to murmur, "I don't really date."

He's not put off in the slightest. "Let's not call it a date, then. Maybe just a hangout? I'd like to get to know you."

I want to get to know him, too. Spending more time in the presence of such a gorgeous man would be worth the butterflies, the nervous twitching in my stomach, and the awkward attempts at conversation. But it would be…a lot.

"Just think it over," he says sweetly, taking another step back. "I could come back when you're finished work. Did you drive here today?"

"No, my sister needed the car."

"See? I just learned that you have a sister." He reaches for me again, then snaps his hand back. "May I pick you up? I could just drive you home, or we could go somewhere." His smile sends tingles through my soup-damp bra. "Or you can say no, and I'll leave you alone, and that's fine too."

It really would be fine. I can see the steadiness in his eyes. Ansel is a solid, balanced person and I'm not nearly as nervous as I would be with any other guy in the world.

From the squirrels apparently being chased by fire running around inside my stomach, refusing is the safest option. No. Not this time, squirrels. I'll fight both you and the fire.

"I'm done at five."

"That's a yes?"

"Yes."

He lifts my hand to his lips for a soft, gentle kiss that makes my knees tense up. "I can't wait, angel. See you then."

He walks out to the front, and I need an extra moment to relearn how to breathe.

Until this very second, I've never been grateful that my older sister Kayla is so terrible with money that she doesn't have her own car, and demanded to borrow mine today because she thought taking the bus was beneath her. It's awkward to admit, but I honestly don't even like her anymore.

Leaning against the doorframe, I'm also grateful that I've been working hard to rein in my shyness, and was able to speak with a gorgeous man like Ansel without making a complete fool of myself, even though I'd been semi-topless.

Most of all, for the first time in my life I'm grateful to have soup spilled on me. Ansel Oakley kissed my hand, touched my cheek, and acted as if he likes me. He wants to get to know me.

The squirrels are going to be doing laps in my stomach all day.