Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Women come and go, just like the seasons. They’ve never been more than passing storms in my life, quick to blow through and leave without much of a trace. Hardly worth getting to know beyond the quick exchange of pleasantries. But Tamlyn? She’s not a storm. She’s a wildfire, spreading fast and out of control, and the more I try to push her out, the more she seems to take root.
I swing the axe again, the muscles in my arms straining with the force of it. The tree shudders under the blow, but it’s not enough. Nothing I do seems to be enough to shake the feeling of her. I’ve never been the kind of man who lets anything distract him from the work that needs doing. This land has always been my priority—these trees, this mountain. It’s in my blood, as much a part of me as the air I breathe.
But now, all I can think about is her. The way she looked at me, like she could see right through me. Like she saw more than just the man who swings an axe for a living. And damn it, I hate that she saw more. I hate that she’s gotten under my skin in a way no one else ever has. In a way that keeps me up at night, my thoughts circling on her plump lips and full hips.
I pull the axe back, my grip tightening as I stare down at the tree. What the hell is it about her that’s got me so twisted up? Is it the way she stands her ground, even when she knows she’s pushing every button I’ve got? Or is it the way she looked at me when we kissed, like she wanted to tear me apart and pull me closer all at the same time?
I let out a rough breath, dragging a hand through my hair. I know I should stay away from her, keep my focus where it belongs—on the work, on the land. But every time I think I’ve got a handle on it, she comes crashing back into my mind like a fucking hurricane.
I stand at the edge of the clearing, axe in hand, the rough handle biting into my palm. The steady thump of the blade against the tree trunk should be grounding, but all it does is fuel the fire inside me. No matter how hard I try to lose myself in the familiar rhythm, my mind keeps circling back to her. Tamlyn. Damn her.
The heat of her lips, the way her body pressed against mine—it's like a wildfire, and I’m caught in the middle of it, with no way out. I grunt, slamming the axe harder into the bark, splintering the wood with a sickening crack. It doesn’t help. The burning is still there, simmering under the surface, refusing to be quenched.
I wipe the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand, glancing over at the trees she’s so damn intent on saving. The irony doesn’t escape me—me, the logger, tangled up with the woman who’s trying to stop me from doing my job. But it’s more than that. She’s gotten under my skin in a way I can’t shake, and I hate it.
My teeth grind together as I think about the way she looked at me, standing her ground like she was ready to fight me tooth and nail. Most people flinch when I so much as raise my voice. Tamlyn? She didn’t blink. Stubborn as hell, that one. But there’s something about her fire, something I can’t stop thinking about. And it’s driving me mad.
I swing the axe again, harder than before, the crack echoing through the clearing. What the hell was I thinking? Kissing her like that. She’s trouble. Nothing but trouble.
“Hey! You gonna take out that whole tree before noon, or you just working through your feelings?” Creed’s voice cuts through my thoughts, thick with amusement.
I turn, catching the sight of my brothers—Creed, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed, and Judge, right behind him with that stupid smirk plastered on his face. Both of them look far too entertained by my foul mood.
“Didn’t know I had an audience,” I grunt, wiping the sweat from my brow.
Creed chuckles. “Word travels fast up here, especially when George caught you mid-argument with that hippie botanist.”
Judge shakes his head, laughing. “Man, George swears he saw steam coming out of your ears. Said you were about two seconds from losing your mind.”
“George needs to get better glasses,” I mutter, leaning the axe against the tree and folding my arms. “I wasn’t losing my mind.”
Creed arches an eyebrow. “Is that why you’ve been hacking at that poor tree like it insulted your mama?”
“Thought you didn’t care about the trees,” I shoot back, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.