Chapter 66
Sixty-Six
I ’m on the porch steps watching Butch split wood.
Finally . I’ve fantasized about the lumberjack doing this task for months, and he’s not disappointing me.
It’s a beautiful Saturday in late September, with a breeze rustling the trees against azure skies dotted with billowy clouds.
Hemi’s stretched long beside me, snoring softly, no movement aside from the occasional twitch.
Butch wears faded jeans and a T-shirt. Sweat coats his skin, and those muscular biceps and forearms are on display as they flex and exert with each strike.
“Don’t you want to take your shirt off?” I call out.
He rolls his eyes, flips his ballcap backward, and resumes.
Yum. “This is like my birthday and Christmas all rolled into one. Definite video material.” His parents purchased one of those VHS camcorders recently and we’ve all had fun with it.
It would be the perfect medium for lumberjack porn, if it exists.
And if it doesn’t, it should. I’ve got the model right here in all his six-foot-four glory.
He ignores me and continues chopping, a quirk of his lips betraying his amusement.
I rest my chin in my palm and ogle .
Butch lodges the ax in a fresh log and walks those long legs over to me. He lifts the hem of his shirt and uses it to wipe his brow, giving me a direct view of his torso.
Double yum . “Goddamn, Lumberjack. I’m about to slide off the steps.”
He smirks and hikes an eyebrow. “Sounds like a problem.”
“One you could solve,” I offer with a wink.
He braces his arms on either side of me and leans in close. “What, exactly, is your fantasy here?”
“You’re already knocking it out of the park, Mr. Glistening Axe Man.
But if I was going to expand on it…” I turn around and check that Emmy’s still inside, then change to a whisper.
“I might just want you to force me to my knees right there in the dirt…or have you tie me to a tree and fuck me senseless.”
“Shit. Now I’m getting a boner.”
“Me too. Or, you know, the female equivalent.”
His lips land on mine in a blistering kiss, and tingles erupt down my spine.
“You are pure trouble, Sundance. Now do me a favor and bring me a glass of water.”
“Because you’re hot?” I run the pad of my finger across my lower lip.
He cocks his head. “Um…yeah?”
“No, I want to hear you say, ‘I’m hot.’ Because you. Are. Hot.” I rub my palms together for emphasis.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Good thing you love me.”
He grunts an acknowledgment and adjusts his package. My gaze snaps to his crotch. “We’ll continue this conversation about your lumberjack fantasy later.” It’s a promise.
I shake my ass at him as I walk up the steps.
“Tease away—I’m coming for that. ”
“Promises, promises.” I smack my right cheek for good measure before slipping through the front door.
When I rejoin Butch and hand over his water, Hemi is steadily barking at a car crunching down the gravel drive. “Who is it?”
“Goddamn it. I think it’s Darlene.” He slugs down the entire contents of the glass and hands it back to me. “Baby, go inside. Keep Emmy occupied, okay?”
“Alright.” I head in and check on Emmy, who’s still playing with her Barbie Styling Salon, pretending to give the redheaded doll in one of the chairs a haircut. She chatters away, nailing the stylist role to the max.
I quietly walk back to the window overlooking the front. Darlene stands by her faded yellow Valiant. Butch’s defensive posture says it all: arms crossed, stance wide. Hemi growls, hackles raised, and Butch hushes him.
Darlene approaches, her pink-and-white striped short-sleeved blouse tucked into high-waisted pale denim. Her perm has relaxed, those tight curls now loose waves. Within a few minutes, she’s gesticulating wildly with her hands as she glowers at Butch.
He grows increasingly agitated, his own hand jerking into the air for emphasis before he casts a nervous glance toward the house.
The two verbally spar several more minutes while Emmy continues prattling on to her hair customers without a clue about what’s transpiring in the front yard.
Butch frowns, his hands balling into fists at his sides.
More words are batted between them. Then he gives Darlene a final, vehement head shake and she stalks to her car.
Her head whips, eyes flaring at Butch as she yells one last thing.
He doesn’t answer, but I can tell he’s pissed, his jaw visibly pulsing from here.
When the car’s out of sight, he picks up a nearby rock and hurls it down the driveway. Then he turns abruptly and strides in the opposite direction with Hemi hot on his heels.
I launch out the door and jog to catch up. “What did she want?”
His irate eyes meet mine. “She’s not letting this go. Despite what the courts decided. She wants to see Emmy.”
“Oh no.”
“Obviously, I told her no fucking way,” he spits out. “But now I’m wondering if she’s just going to keep showing up.”
“Yeah…that’s not cool.”
He rakes his fingers roughly through his hair. “And one of these days, Emmy’s going to be outside when it happens. And then what? What will she think? What will she want? Am I doing what’s best? Should I talk to Emmy about it?”
“I don’t know, but you said when the time was right, you’d tell Emmy about her mom and then she can decide. It’s alright to not have it all figured out this second.”
He looks toward the house, then squeezes his eyes shut. “I just don’t want Em to get hurt. And I sure as shit don’t know how I’d ever trust Darlene to be in our daughter’s life again. I thought all this fucking bullshit was over. Maybe I need to get a restraining order.”
Helpless to do much else, I wrap my arms around him. “Just keep being her dad, Butch. You’re doing a wonderful job with her, and until your gut tells you something different, just stay the course. Trust your instincts.”
Butch’s instincts propel him to act in the week ahead.
He speaks to Emmy’s elementary school principal to explain his concerns.
He holds a family meeting. He reiterates to his daughter how careful she needs to be at her age, reminding her to be suspicious of strangers. And he doesn’t leave Emmy unattended.
They’re all precautions, but hopefully, Darlene will abandon this mission and disappear, just like she did when Emmy was young.