Caught in the Axe (Maine Lumberjacks, #1)

by Daphne Elliot

The lump in my throat made it hard to speak. “I’m not—” I coughed. “We’re not—” She shook her head. “I’m not saying stay away. I’m not saying give up. In fact, I’m impressed with your efforts so far. She’s gonna make you work for it, but if I had to guess, you’re the kind of man who likes a challenge.”

“I should go.” I could use some time to myself to process how the woman I loved had stumbled upon a man beaten unconscious on my family’s property, only yards from where I sat working. And I wasn’t sure I could even get into the complete shit show that was going down at the office right now. “You should stay,” Lila said.

This was too much for me. I thrived on being in control, on having a plan and setting parameters and boundaries. I entered and stayed in relationships on my terms and never pushed myself too far. But this time, I’d gone too far, and there was no going back. I was in love with Lila Webster.

My mom was making popcorn when tires crunched on the gravel out front. I hauled myself off the couch and peered through the curtains. Instantly, I had to do a double take. Owen had parked his Audi next to my van in our tiny driveway. Just the sight of him had my heart pounding out a joyful rhythm in my chest.

“Did you make these?” He shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Got a good recipe on the internet. Not a big deal.” I blinked, as if that would somehow make this make sense. “You baked for me?” My inner lovesick teen girl was squealing with delight. “I thought you could use a cozy fire too.” He rounded his car and opened the hatch. “So I brought firewood.”

I took a moment to center myself before I said or did something stupid. This man had shown up to my house bearing homemade gluten-free baked goods and firewood? Was I asleep? Was this some kind of Hallmark-induced fever dream?

“Go inside,” he said when he returned with an axe. “It’s cold out.” “It’s forty-five degrees. That’s bikini weather in Maine.”

He froze his efforts to set up a log and looked up at me, a full smile spreading across his face. “Do you want to put on a bikini, then? I won’t object.” With a wink, he went back to the task at hand. I stepped forward, wobbling as my boot caught on the loose paver. A wink.

As I shuffled up the back stairs and into the warm kitchen, I found my mother standing by the sink and smiling maniacally at me. “Don’t say a word.” She laughed. “I’m just here for the show.”

Owen began unbuttoning his dress shirt, and I lost the ability to speak. He carefully shrugged out of it and draped it over the deck railing, then he stepped away, wearing just a white undershirt, jeans, and those broken-in boots. “Daaayuuum,” Mom hissed under her breath.

“Is this actually happening?” I asked, my heart pounding in my ears. Because I thought maybe I’d died in my sleep and now resided in lumberjack heaven. “Does it matter?” She elbowed me. “Shut up and enjoy it.”

“Remember to practice safe sex, sweetie.” A scoff ripped its way out of me. “Mom. Stop.” “The man is chopping wood for you. Just give it up already.”

After a solid fifteen minutes of chopping, then stacking the cut wood next to the back door, he’d prepped enough to last an entire winter. But I couldn’t help but think it might not be enough. Because I wasn’t ready for the show to end. I’d personally take down every tree in town just to keep watching the Owen Hebert Lumberjack Spectacular.

And then he was at the door, all sweaty and masculine and lickable. “Ms. Webster, sorry for the intrusion.” He dipped his chin politely at my mother.

I followed him onto the porch, where he sat on the top step and laced up his boots. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he said firmly, standing to his full height. My heart stuttered in his chest. Dammit, that bossy tone did things to me. “Why?”

He closed the distance between us and tipped my chin up with his knuckles so I was forced to meet his deep blue eyes.

“Because I don’t want you to be cold. Or hungry or tired. I care about you. And if I can make your life easier, even in the smallest of ways, then I’ll do it. Every time.”

I crossed my arms and cocked a brow. “Bullshit. You knew what you were doing.” He shook his head. “Nope. Totally innocent. Just trying to help my friend.” The way he emphasized that word hit me like an arrow to the heart. “But I don’t mind it when you ogle me.” He waggled his brows.

“They sell firewood at the gas station. You didn’t need to bring your own and chop it here.” He put his hand to his chest and lowered his brows, feigning insult. “I’m surrounded by wood all day. My wood is the best wood.”

“Now you’re just being cocky.” He leaned in close, the warmth of his body overwhelming me, and brought his mouth to my ear. His lips ghosted over the lobe as he whispered, “We both know I’ve got the goods to back it up.”

“Lila dear.” Mrs. Dupont beckoned me in the most obnoxious way. “I specifically said I wanted cheddar in my omelet. This is American.” I blinked. Seriously? They were basically the same thing. And her palate was not particularly refined. How she could taste anything after smoking a pack a day since I was in grade school was a mystery.

Whatever the reason, not drowning Mayor Lambert in his oatmeal when he spent a full minute staring at my rack was a true victory.

“Very serious… Dr. Savard… so young?” “What was that?” I asked, standing up straight. Loraine Gagnon gave me a genuine smile. “Oh dear, apparently Dr. Savard had a stroke this morning.” My heart plummeted to my feet. Willa’s dad? With a gasp, I fumbled for my phone in my apron.

“But since Hallmark men are nonsexual, maybe they have tiny penises,” Willa said, snorting into the phone. “Aren’t you in public?” “I’m too upset to care. Plus, the terminal is pretty empty right now.”

I walked right into them, letting his strength and warmth envelop me in a kind of comfort I’d never known. “I don’t want to fight it any longer,” I admitted. “This. Us. I want it. I want you.” I was tearing up. Instead of a smooth seductress, I was a blubbering idiot.