Caught in the Axe (Maine Lumberjacks, #1)

by Daphne Elliot

That was until I had to work shoulder to shoulder with Owen Hebert every night. When he wasn’t looking, I’d sneak glances at him, admiring how his ass filled out his jeans or salivating over the corded muscle of his forearms while he typed. He was strong but not bulky. Intense but not domineering. And so careful and controlled.

We said goodbye, and I headed back to the conference room. What was going on? “Hey, Owen.” He looked up from where he was leaning over the table, hair a bit disheveled like he’d been running his hands through it and his glasses askew. He looked so delicious I momentarily forgot what I wanted to say.

“I just got a phone call from Vic at the food pantry. She was celebrating a big donation from DiLuca Construction. You know anything about that?” He looked away and shook his head. “The company has a charitable foundation that makes significant community investments.”

“It’s all about how you frame it, Owen. Think about it. You weren’t dragged back. You were given an opportunity to come back here and do something positive for your family. A family you’ve grown apart from.”

His lips quirked. “You’re something special, you know that?” I could feel the blush creeping across my cheeks. “I’m not the one who donated a new roof and freezer to the food pantry.”

He held my gaze for a moment, those blue eyes shining. “You inspire me.” He said softly.

I had just gotten control of my hormones and had started to make real headway when something truly awful happened. Owen unbuttoned his shirt.

shuffled papers in an exaggerated manner, pretending to be absorbed in my work while fixated on him in my periphery. He took his time undoing every button, his large hands working deftly. Sweet Jesus. He was wearing a white undershirt. I forced myself to focus on the papers in my hands. When I did, I blinked. Then I blinked again. Shit, they were upside down. Damn, I’m an idiot.

The shirt was tight, and the thin cotton hugged every muscle in his shoulders. And those were some muscles hiding under the designer dress shirts.

“You okay?” With a gentle nudge to my arm to get my attention, he reached for the neat row of folders in front of me where I’d organized all the recent invoices. “Mm-hmm.” My face flamed. God, I was probably crimson by now. Could he read my thoughts? Had I been mumbling to myself? I did have my earbuds in, but I’d been so deep in my Owen fantasy that he’d probably noticed me staring like a sex-starved weirdo.

White T-shirt. Shoulders. Arms. That long neck and the stubble-covered jaw. I wanted to lick every inch of him.

Me too girl

The smile he gave me was one of pure contentment. It was impossible not to take a moment to revel in it. “What?” he said, his cheeks going a little pink. “I like your smile. You wear this grumpy façade, so most of the time, you’re scowling. But once in a while, you smile at me, and when you do, you look like a different person—” The moment the last word left my lips, I stiffened.

He smirked. “Resting boss face?” “Oh yeah.” I slid a finger under the tab of my cereal box, popping it open. “It’s like your facial muscles know how to project responsibility and confidence. When I see you, I think this guy knows what he’s doing.” The laugh that bubbled out of him was deep and loud. The sound caused butterflies to take flight in my belly.

“I’ve realized that real life is now. The decisions I make today matter. My attitude and effort and the way I show up for others matters. I don’t know what I want long term, and that’s okay. I’m evolving, and this town can’t stop me.” “Shit.” He shook his head, taking off his glasses. For a moment, we were both silent. He lowered his chin and cleaned his lenses on his T-shirt, lifting the hem up just enough to reveal a tiny sliver of abs.

leaned forward and rested my elbows on the folding table. “What do you want, Owen?” He tipped his head and opened his mouth, but rather than speaking, he snapped it shut again. As he slid his glasses back on, fumbling a little as he did so, he swallowed audibly. “I don’t think I can say.” I bit my lip so hard I may have drawn blood. “Why not?” “Because some things are better kept to myself.”

“Hobbesian dystopia?” He snorted. “Have you always been this smart?” With a huff, I rolled my eyes.

“Yes. But I used to be pretty, so no one bothered to notice, and I didn’t bother trying that hard to convince them.”

His eyes softened and his lips parted just a fraction. Then he was out of his chair, rounding the table, and pulling me to my feet.

“Don’t say that. You’re beautiful. You’ve always been beautiful. Period. And if people don’t notice how smart and empathetic and intuitive you are, then that’s their fucking problem.”

He was still clutching my shoulders as he angled in and brought his lips to my ear. When he spoke, they brushed the shell, sending a shiver through me. “And regardless of how painfully gorgeous you are, your mind, Lila, your mind is magnificent.”

But when I got home later that night, I began looking at the scenario from a different angle. Maybe tonight hadn’t turned out the way I wanted it to. But one thing was clear. He wanted me just as much as I wanted him. I could work with that.

The awkwardness had started when he jumped out of his car and hustled around the hood to open the door for me, all the while blatantly staring at me.

Okay, it had fully crossed over to the far boundary of tight. My hips were being strangled. There was a chance it was giving businesswoman in a porno rather than a diligent professional woman ready for grad school, but I had no other choice.

Though, on closer inspection, his slack-jawed expression hadn’t been one of judgment. Oh no. Those wide eyes and open mouth were all desire. A small fizzle of pride had shot through me. He was looking at me like I’d just slid down a pole wearing nothing but a diamond G-string. The business bitch look worked for him. I’d file that tidbit away for the future. I wonder if he likes garters.

“How tall are you?” I blurted out.

He turned and hit me with a confused frown. “Six-two. Why, how tall are you?” “Five-seven.” “Okay, now that we’ve established that, my blood type is A positive. Do you want my social security number too?”

“They seem pretty silly and exploitive to me. I mean, being Miss Queen whatever is fairly meaningless in the grand scheme.” “Excuse me?” I feigned offense, clutching at the string of pearls at my neck. “How dare you, sir! I was Maple Sugar Princess 2008.”

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea I was in the presence of royalty.” The prissy scowl I gave him only lasted a second or two before I broke into a fit of giggles. “Does Your Majesty require a coffee and bathroom break?” he asked in a truly terrible British accent. “Indeed, I do, good sir.”

I shook my head, even as I grinned. “Maine is so fucking weird.” “It is. Tourists think it’s all beaches and lobster traps, but most of this state is straight-up bizarre.”

“Were you even alive in the ’80s?” “Nope.” I tilted my chin up and grinned. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate vintage films.” He coughed out a surprised laugh. “Please don’t call anything created in the ’80s vintage. I may vomit.”

I patted his bicep. His strong, hard bicep. “Don’t be ashamed. You, Owen Hebert, are one fine vintage piece.”

So I had two choices. I could sit in awkward silence and pretend I’d never said anything, which was our pattern, or I could keep talking. I chose option B. “Your stubble is working its way into beard territory,”

And so I figured,” he shrugged, “when in Lovewell…” “Go full lumberjack?” I finished. “Something like that.” “I like it,” I said softly. Rather than acknowledge my comment, he looked ahead, keeping his eyes on the road. But there was no hiding the smile slowly spreading across his face.

I sipped it anyway, shuffling the papers in front of me. They were precisely formulated spreadsheets with the last ten years’ worth of sales, harvest, and cost data. All had been prepared by Lila, and all were perfect in organization and execution. My order-loving perfectionist brain was impressed, but my caveman brain was distracted.

Focused and angry were my default. It was how I got shit done. I’d built my life and career on focused and angry. And now this smiling woman with the body of a goddess and the mind of a professor was making me question every aspect of my life. And she was testing my sanity. She was interested. In me. She liked what she saw. I was a goner.

I scratched my chin. The scruff had been driving me crazy, but now that I knew she liked it? I’d never shave again.

I’d never had the desire to lounge on a beach. But every time Lila smiled, all I could think about was bathing in sunshine and looking out at the ocean with her, watching the waves crash and soaking in the salt air.

She deserved that. She worked so damn hard and deserved to be pampered for once. I wanted to take care of her in every possible way. “Mr. Hebert?”

As we entered, Tad raked his gaze over Lila’s body in a way that made my hackles rise. As if she were nothing more than a piece of meat, when, in reality, she was brilliant. There

She looked beautiful today. Hell, she looked beautiful every day, but she was dressed modestly and professionally in a dark skirt suit and sensible heels. Her hair was pulled back and held with a black clip. All morning, I’d itched to reach over and pull it out, run my fingers through the strands, muss it up a little. Until the moment she stepped out of her house this morning, I’d had no idea that I had a skirt suit fetish.

“Once we get the detailed inventory lists and the first-quarter numbers, we can finalize everything,” he said, idly spinning his Mont Blanc pen in his manicured hands. “You can send your girl down with the signatures.”

“My girl?” I said, keeping my tone measured rather than devolving into feral growls like the caveman inside me urged me to do. “I assume you mean Ms. Webster, my associate?” He nodded, clearly oblivious to my irritation. “You can send them by mail,” I replied.

“Do you even get mail up there?” “We sure do.” Lila sat primly, as if she’d employed her beauty queen demeanor, though she’d tweaked it so her aura was all badass professional. “And we even have running water too,” she added, her tone dripping sarcasm.

She was absolutely right. The majority of calculations were incorrect. No wonder the offer was so low. I frowned up at Tad. “You reviewed this?” He nodded and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Had my best team on it. It all checks out. Don’t get all paranoid because the number is on the low side.” “But it doesn’t check out,” Lila said, her voice as steely as her expression. “If your team really did look at this, then they did a shitty job.” I resisted the urge to pump my fist. Good for her.

As impressed as I was, her sass was also turning me on, but I’d deal with that later in the privacy of my cabin.

“Call them out,” I said, angling in closer than necessary. “Let’s force them to own their fuckups. Put them on the defensive.” She surveyed me, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, as if uncertainty had sunken in. I wouldn’t have it. She knew what the hell she was doing, and I’d back her up all the way. So I lowered my head, catching her eye, and squeezed her hand. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

Huxley leaned forward, his shark eyes narrowing. “It’s a good offer.” “Bill,” Lila said softly, getting the attention of everyone in the room. “It’s a bullshit offer.” All eyes immediately focused on her, and she shrank back almost imperceptibly. She stopped herself quickly, straightened, and eyed me. I gave her an encouraging nod, and that was all she needed to continue.

I bit the inside of my cheek to hide a smile as every face on the other side of the table fell. It was all the confirmation I needed to know that they’d known what they were doing. Huxley’s face had gone red, making him look positively constipated.

They’d been under the impression that they could throw together sloppy numbers and bully us into a deal, and now they were discovering just how wrong they’d been.

“Have you ever cut down a tree, Bill?” Lila asked, tilting her head sweetly. Damn, she was good at this. Not only had she affected a gentle expression, but she’d tempered her tone, making her sound even more harmless. She was leading him straight into a deadly trap. “No.” He scoffed. “And it’s William.”