“And who is he?” Amusement laces his tone.
“I don’t know. Some arrogant big bad wolf billionaire who sleeps with Victoria’s Secret models and changes women like underwear. He sounds like a complete jerk. But you’re not him. You’re...” I’m leaning against his chest now. A broad, solid chest, his muscles hard against me. I reach up with the hand I used to poke him to touch the few weeks’ worth of growth covering his face, my fingertips scratching across the coarse hair. “A lumberjack.”
“A lumberjack.”
“Yes. With this beard and this,” I rub my hand over his flannel checkered jacket, sitting open, and then to the shirt beneath, reveling in the ridges of his stomach. “Definitely a lumberjack. Did they hire lumberjacks to cut wood for that giant fireplace in there? They’ve hired people for everything else. I mean, seriously, who comes up to Alaska to get their pubic area waxed and their hair colored? And yet there’s a full-service salon!”
His hands have found my waist again. He takes several steps backward, pulling me along with him.
But I dig my heels in. “I’m not going anywhere until I check the water for my glasses! I have a flashlight!” I yell, earning his shush.
He heaves a sigh. “Will you let me take you back to your cabin immediately after?”
“Once I do that, I will happily go to bed with you. Not with you. I’ll go to bed. I’m not going to bed with a lumberjack.” My tongue feels thick and slow as it trips over my rambling words.
“Fine. But I’m holding on to you the entire time. The owner doesn’t need any of his employees drowning.”
“Deal.”
He leads me back to the edge and drops to his knees with me. “Sit your ass right down or you’ll end up pulling us both in.”
“That’s no way to speak to a lady.”
He snorts. “It is when she’s as stubborn as a mule and as drunk as an Irishman.”
Damp cold from the dock seeps through my jeans as I follow his order. He has large, strong hands and they grip my slender middle tightly as I lean down, shining the small beam of light from my pocket flashlight against the murky waters below. His hand that’s closer to the water slides up to rest underneath my breast. I briefly consider telling this burly lumberjack that he’s touching me inappropriately, but a part of me doesn’t care right now.
“I can’t see them.” The water level is much lower than I expected. I can’t even skim the top with my fingertips. I would have fallen in, had he not been there to grab me.
“No shit.” He hauls me up with seemingly no effort, the quick movement making the world spin a bit. “Where are you staying?”
“Cabin...” My words trail away as I finally see his face for the first time, bathed in a stream of light. Steely blue eyes stare down at me. Even with heavy scruff covering his face, I can tell that his jaw is strong and angular. And that mouth... I am utterly riveted to those plump lips. I can’t help myself. I reach up and graze them with my fingertips, wisps of hair around the outside edges tickling my skin. They’re as full and soft as they look and they part for me slightly, enough that my fingertips get wet, and warm breath skates across my skin.
My stomach bursts into butterflies as my own lips part.
I’ve heard people say that alcohol can change your perception, can make you believe that someone is better looking than they are in the sober light of day. I think they call it beer goggles. But I haven’t been drinking beer and, besides, for my eyes to deceive me like this would be a cruel trick by Satan himself.
I’ve never seen such a handsome man in real life.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, and then my face flushes when I realize that I said that out loud. But it’s okay that I did, I tell myself. It’s true, and he needs to know.
I gather my nerve and shift my attention from his mouth up to his eyes to find his intense gaze weighing down on me, skating over my features before resting on my mouth. He leans down, his lips reaching for mine. My heart begins racing, anticipating the feel of them on me, wondering if they’ll be firm or soft, demanding or yielding. How does a man like this kiss?
I want to let go, to let this complete stranger do whatever he wants with me.
He pulls back and gives his head a small shake. “Let’s get you home. Which cabin are you in?”
“Seven.” I pause, peering up again, my eyes roaming that handsome face. “Seriously, do you know how beautiful you are?”
“All right, let’s get you home fast.” He hooks an arm around the backs of my knees, one around my shoulders and hoists me up into a cradled position, earning my surprised yelp.
“I can walk!” Though, being in this man’s arms, with my arm wrapped around this big, strong neck and my body pressed against this chest, is so new and exciting.
“Slow and stumbling and blind, yeah. But I need to be rid of you now.”
“Be rid of me? Am I that awful?”
His focus is locked on the path ahead of us. “You’re drunk and I know exactly where this is heading. It can’t, that’s all. Don’t take it personally.”
“And where exactly is this heading?” Was he seriously about to kiss me? No, that’s not possible. A guy who looks like this doesn’t try to kiss a girl like me, lumberjack or not.
His dark, low chuckle fills the night air. “I can’t tell if you’re playing coy right now, or if you’re actually that clueless.” When I don’t answer, his gaze flitters to meet mine for a second. “To places a girl like you shouldn’t go tonight.”
I snort. “Great. You’re protecting my virtue, too, now? Did my mama call you?” I stare at him as he walks on, ignoring me. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-one.”
Ten years older than me. Thirty-one and a face like that; I’ll bet he has slept with lots of women. I’ll bet he’s experienced. I’ll bet he could teach me all kinds of things with those fingers that are currently clutching my body tightly. Things that Jed couldn’t, or didn’t want to. Thoughts of Jed make my stomach tilt. I quickly push them away. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
He seems to hesitate. “No.”
“Neither do I. A boyfriend, I mean. I had a boyfriend. Well, a fiancé, actually. His name is Jed. We were going to get married next summer, but he cheated on me with the jezebel.” The gravel crunches beneath the lumberjack’s feet as I ramble on. “That’s what my mama calls those kind of women—jezebels. I saw her. She’s beautiful and sexy, so I guess I know why he’d leave me for her. Anyway, I’m supposed to wait for him to sow his wild oats. He asked me to wait, said he’d come back. Our families are so sure he’ll come back to me.”
“And you’ll take him back, won’t you.” His tone mocks me, as if he’s both unsurprised and repulsed by the idea.
“No. I mean, I don’t think so.” I sigh. Who am I kidding? It’s the reason I held on to that ring instead of casting it into the deep waters. “I can’t help but hope that he’ll realize what a mistake he’s making and come crawling back, begging for forgiveness.”
“And you’ll give it to him.” Again, not a question.
“No!” A moment later, I admit with a grumble, “Maybe.” Not because I forgive him; not because he didn’t hurt me so badly. “He’s all I’ve ever known. He’s been a part of my life for so long. We had everything planned out. Now, I’m lost.”
Lumberjack doesn’t want to be listening to this; I can tell by the steely look across his face. But I haven’t talked about it with an impartial person before. My friends tell me that I should despise Jed, and everyone back home tells me to bide my time.
Somehow dumping all this on a complete stranger feels therapeutic.
“I don’t want to be pathetic. I don’t want to be there for him if he does come back. I want to be over him, moved on.” Sadness fills my chest. “But it’s hard to get over someone you’ve loved since you were five years old.”