Axe-ing for Trouble (Maine Lumberjacks, #5)

by Daphne Elliot

Trouble: you’re out of carrots Lumbersnack: I thought you hated them? Trouble: I do. Carrots are just crunchy apathy. I fed them all to the cutest baby moose today. Lumbersnack: You fed a baby moose??? Trouble: Yes. I let Ripley out, and they were running together. It was cute, so I fed it. Lumbersnack: That is so fucking dangerous. You can’t do that. Trouble: It’s fine. Lumbersnack: It will come back tomorrow expecting more. Trouble: That’s the plan. Lumbersnack: You cannot befriend dangerous wildlife. You could get hurt. Trouble: Stop being so overprotective, Lumberjack. Lumbersnack: If you fed a baby, it means its mom is nearby and could kill you. Trouble: Oh, I saw the mom. But it may have been the dad. It had huge antlers. That was a little scary. But we went back into the house. You’re really overthinking this. I’m fine.

Because in another world, another life, I would have picked her up and carried her straight to my bed. In another world, we could be something. I’d felt it that first night together. But it could never be. I had to make my peace with that. I’d long ago accepted the fact that I’d be alone forever. And it was so fucking unfair, the way the universe had delivered the one woman I’d ever imagined a future with right to my doorstep while the world around us was burning. While everyone we knew was in danger.

He stood another log on its end and sized it up, walking around it and cataloging the grooves. Turning, he rolled his shoulders, the move forcing my attention to the rippling muscles in his back. And… were those suspenders? No. No way. Jesus, take the wheel. Never in my life would I have considered suspenders sexy. But holy shit, the combination of tight white T-shirt, jeans, and suspenders was rewiring my brain. He picked up a small metal wedge and stuck it into one of the grooves of the wood. Then he stood back and picked up his axe. When, with one swing, he spit the massive log in half, my jaw hit the floor. And my panties disintegrated. I leaned in to get a better look.

This time, the wood didn’t split all the way through. So he put one boot on it and pulled the axe out, then dropped it to the ground. He walked around, inspecting the log. I held my breath in anticipation of what he’d do next. I never could have predicted that he’d pick the damn thing up, wedge his fingers into the crack left by his axe, and pull. But fuck, that’s exactly what he did. Every muscle in his body strained with the effort, his biceps rippling as he pulled as hard as he could. With a roar, he tore the fucking log in half.

Did mild-mannered, graphic novel–loving Jude Hebert rip apart a tree trunk with his bare hands? Like the Hulk in glasses and suspenders? Sweat dotted my hairline, and my pulse raced as my legs wobbled, threatening to give out. Goddamn him and his morals and his whole protector bullshit.

Yeah, I was hurt and on the run from homicidal drug traffickers, but I had needs, dammit. For God’s sake, I was a red-blooded woman trapped in a small cottage with the hottest lumbersnack in history.

I couldn’t hide the smile that split my face in half. She was jealous and being possessive. It sent a thrill through my body. “I’m going to play guitar for a couple of hours, then come home. You know that, right?” She let out a big sigh. “Yes, I know that. But there will be women everywhere, throwing themselves at you.” Across the granite, I covered her hand with mine. “Trouble, you’ve got the wrong idea. I’m not a rock star playing a sold-out stadium. It’s a dive bar in rural Maine. Most of the clientele are older than my parents or grizzled loggers blowing off steam.”

“It’s not about leaving the house. It’s about you being all sexy Jude the Lumberjack Musician and having all these women lusting after you.” Even as dread formed in my gut, a hint of a thrill zipped through me. Had she seriously admitted that she’d be jealous of any women who might come on to me? I circled the island and stood in front of her, tipping her chin up with my fingers. “Trouble. No one will be throwing panties at me tonight.” I caressed her jawline, studying every facet of her beautiful, pouty face. “In fact, the only girl who has ever thrown panties at me was you.” “I did not.” She went ramrod straight, poking a finger at my chest. I chuckled and stepped closer, bringing my body flush with hers. “Okay, so you metaphorically threw your panties at me. Admit it, you eye fucked me so thoroughly, they probably incinerated before my set was over.”

“Look at me.” She complied, a mixture of defiance and vulnerability bleeding from her, making my heart seize up. “I will not so much as look at another woman while you’re sleeping in my bed.” I was unlikely to ever look at another woman again, even after she was long gone, but I kept that information to myself. “You don’t have to.” “Yes I do. Even if we hadn’t gotten physical, keeping you safe is my top priority. And I’m not some horn dog, for God’s sake. I can keep it in my pants. Even though you called me… what was it? ‘Sluttier than a pair of gray sweatpants’?” Two red patches bloomed on her fair cheeks. “Regardless of what you think,” I went on. “I’m not. I have no intention of looking at or talking to anyone tonight. I’ll play, hang with my brothers and sisters-in-law, have exactly one beer, and then come straight home to you.”

Her jealousy was hot. Totally unwarranted, but hot, nonetheless. As if I could even look at another woman. Mila occupied every one of my waking thoughts and a good percentage of my dreams. She didn’t know it, but I’d be counting down the minutes until I could come back home to her.

Clive. I let out a long breath. Maybe sharing the carrots with him wasn’t a bad idea after all. As he barreled out of my line of sight, the men broke into panicked shouts. This was it. My only chance. Crouching low and clutching the laptop to my chest, I ran as fast as I could down the hill toward the tree line. Halfway there, I glanced over my shoulder. Several guys had taken off on their bikes while others were still stomping around the front of the house. Even a big tough biker was terrified of a giant bull moose, and with good reason.

I could hear shouts and crashing noises from the front of the house. It sounded like Clive had knocked over the row of bikes parked out front and was causing all kinds of mayhem.

Trouble: Don’t worry about me. Protect your family and call Parker. Lumbersnack: You are my family. I’m coming for you.

“Jude, I love you and I want a future with you.” His dark blue eyes widened. “But there is no future unless we end this.” “Together?” he asked, the single-word response surprising me. I nodded. “Together. But…” I blew out a breath. “We may get killed in the process.” “I’m willing to risk it. I swore to protect you no matter the cost, and I will.”

He wrapped an arm around me, squeezing my ass hard. “I fucking love you, Trouble.”

If there was any chance in hell I could protect her, I would. Or I’d die trying. Because Mila was my person. It was stupid of me to fight it. It was a certainty. An eventuality.

“Of course I do. She’s your person. You’d fight dragons for her.”

“She changed me,” I admitted. “The best ones always do.” “I was content—” “Contentment is bullshit,” he snapped. “It’s a cop-out. You deserve more, Jude. You deserve risk and adventure and a love so intense you can’t sleep at night.” The baby cried out softly, and his voice got muffled as he soothed her. “Love is an adventure,” he said a moment later, his words clear again. “Trusting your heart to someone else is one of the most dangerous things we will ever do in this life, but it’s by far the best one. So I get it.” “Thank you.”

“Okay. Love you, brother. Don’t fucking die.” “Don’t plan on it.”

“I love you, Trouble.” “Love you too,” I said, reveling in his warmth.

“Mila, it’s Special Agent Portnoy,” he said. “Can you get up?” I opened my mouth to respond, but pain ricocheted through my head. He was FBI. That made sense. They really had shown up. My intel was right all along. But where was Jude? “Let me help you.” He held out a hand. “I’ll get you to safety. You’re okay now.” With a slight nod that made my head spin, I reached for his hand and tried to sit up. As I was working up the strength to pull myself to standing, my hand still locked in his, the sleeve of his uniform shirt shifted. On his wrist, wrapping around the outside of his right hand, was a tattoo. Thick trunk, spiny branches. A yew.

I KNEW IT!!!!!!! Fucking asshat! 🖕🏻

My head was fuzzy and a searing pain tore through my thigh. I pressed a hand to the injury, and when I discovered the blood, my heart dropped. My jeans were torn. All I could see was blood and dirt. But none of that mattered. Mila was all I cared about. I had to find her. Protect her.