Lumberjacked (A Holiday Lumberjack Mountain Man Romance) - K.C. Crowne Page 0,10
the broom to the pantry. I heard rattling and assumed he was getting plates, and I thought about my mother, hoping she was alright and not too worried. I didn’t want her to feel abandoned. She’d been abandoned once by my dad, as I had I, and I didn’t want her to feel that again.
I glanced at him and set the knife down with a clack, turning my body to fully face him. “I have a job. I need to get back to it.”
He looked my way, eyebrow lifted. “What do you do?”
I sighed. I’d already told him, but I repeated, “I work for an insurance company for now.”
“For now?”
“My boss, Ryan, is a dick,” I said bluntly. “He sent me up here to check on some rockslides for claims research even though it was a waste of time.” I rolled my eyes as I walked to the sink and washed my hands. “He told me to focus on my job.”
“Are you quitting because he’s a dick?”
I contemplated not answering him since he never seemed to answer any of my questions, but I felt like talking. “Yep. He showed me his real side at the corporate holiday party. He wanted me to go home with him, you know, sleep with him. He got a little pushy. I threatened him, he backed off.”
“He tried to force you?” he asked, his voice wrathful.
I glanced at him, surprised by his vehemence. “Oh God, no. Just pushy. After, he treated me differently, more harshly, gave me shit assignments. I already told him I’m leaving, and I fully intend to tell that asshole exactly where he can shove his penis.” I snickered, but he didn’t join me. Shrugging, I added, “Time to find something new.”
“Like what?” He stepped into the kitchen and found cutlery, then placed it on the tiny table.
“There’s a job in Chicago,” I told him. “But I’m not sure I want to leave my mom behind. Leave my life in Grizzly Falls.” I chuckled. “My mom says I should go, live the life she never had. Maybe I will.”
And maybe she was right. Maybe going to a new world where the pain of the past didn’t exist was what I needed. I would do it for her. To live the freedom she couldn’t find when she was my age. Even though the unknown was terrifying.
I still had a week in Grizzly Falls, though, with Ryan making life hell for me because he was pissed off I was leaving. Without sleeping with him. I had dreaded this last week at work.
Ridiculously, I felt a bit of relief as I glanced at Viktor. I’d met my apparent saviour who’d whisked me away to his home in the woods - minus the fact that he wasn’t much more pleasant than my horrible boss. However, he certainly was far more pleasant to my eyes - and my lady parts.
Dark was falling, and Viktor locked all the doors and stoked the fire in the small hearth before we sat down to eat. I’d found some canned veggies, which weren’t my favorite, but I didn’t want to just eat meat like some kind of carnivore. I put everything on the table and we served ourselves, then ate in silence for several minutes.
The cabin was cozy and homey and being locked up with this monstrous man – holy shit he was huge – didn’t seem like a problem at all. Surely, I was still influenced by the colossal headache. I scoffed internally. More like influenced by the colossal alpha sitting across the table from me. Suddenly the reality of my lack of physical experience with a man rushed over me.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, bringing me back to reality.
“Fine, thanks,” I murmured, peering at him from between my lashes.
“Dinner’s good,” he said. “Thanks for making the corn.”
“You’re welcome, and thanks for the meat.” In my head, I thought about the other kind of meat I wanted, a laugh catapulting out of my mouth.
He stared at me, his face blank. “What’s funny?”
I shook my head quickly, replying, “Nothing.”
He watched me for another few seconds, then resumed eating. I watched him, mesmerized by him and hoping he didn’t catch me. This man was a walking, super-hot, super fucking wet dream. I couldn’t stop thinking about how we’d nearly kissed, the way he’d leaned into me as if he’d wanted it, too. He’d pulled away, though. I tried not to think about the disappointment I’d felt.