Page 1 of Defended by the Lumberjack (Moonshine Ridge Lumberjacks #2)

Chapter One

July

I 'm nervous. But I got through Thanksgiving fine, so the Christmas season can't be any worse, right?

Right?

"Chef!" One of the crew yells for me from the back of the kitchen, pulling my attention off the dining room where my nerves have had me anchored. Wiping my hands down my smock, I head back.

Kitchen stuff, I can handle.

"No, no, no....here. Put that back in the walk-in. Oh em gee, Patrick, why?"

It's not a cooking show. It's an actual kitchen. Filled with actual assistants and prep cooks, line cooks, a sous chef, and one lead chef whose name is on the line.

Me.

"But we need it for the main course." Patrick pouts. Patrick is too old to pout and, according to his resume, he's also too experienced to have already pulled the spinach out.

"But we don't need it for another half an hour. Please-- just...please."

I wave him and his greens off the prep surface and put Perry on the station.

It's fine. It's fine. It's...fine. I chant in my inside-my-head voice and get back to the tasks that only I can handle.

Savor is my dream, and I am ridiculously young to have already achieved it. Which is only one of a million reasons I'm convinced it's going to crumble out from underneath me at any minute.

The upscale restaurant at the Moonshine Ridge Ski Resort opened three years ago under the same name, but with a different chef. I got the job as sous chef last year, after my stint in Italy apprenticing under the world's worst boss.

Again. Not "mean makes good TV" bad boss-- an actual jerk. And not the least bit hot.

I almost quit three times during that apprenticeship, it was so bad. But I really want this.

Having to fight tooth and nail for my pride as well as my self-esteem for those six months was the reason I took the job here when I was ready to face the process of applying for jobs.

Moonshine Ridge is so tiny. Savor is located in the local ski resort, with is also tiny, owned and operated by a local couple.

Eddy and Pepper Jones wanted to bring upscale dining to the area, but without the pomp and circumstance that accompanies high profile areas catering to high profile clientele.

I researched the community, the restaurant, and the job description and jumped on the offer when it came in.

It was the perfect place to get the hands-on experience I'd need to rebuild my confidence in my abilities in a low-key setting.

Then our chef quit. He walked out three months ago on barely two weeks' notice to take a job at some new place in the Florida Keys.

Said he couldn't take another season in this "nothing" town where we go days sometimes with no business because the road up the mountain gets closed when the weather is really bad.

But it did mean that the lead chef position got thrust into my lap early in my career, and right before our busy season at the resort.

For Thanksgiving, we did a buffet dinner with all the usuals. It was busy-- really busy-- but still mostly locals. The runs had only been fully open for a few days before the holiday, with our first good snow coming late this year.

Now we're in the Christmas season. Winter on the mountain has been busy making up for its late show and the resort is bustling.

I'm tasked with managing the kitchen staff, keeping lists of supplies and ingredients that have to ordered or fetched up from the larger town of Slow River in the valley, creating new menus, experimenting with new ideas, and accommodating the large parties coming up to hold their annual holiday and end-of-year office parties at the only place in town that's really big enough to hold them.

Like the Murdock brothers' timber company is tonight. All three of the Murdock brothers, three silver foxes that are as surly as they are handsome, their office staff, field supervisors, crew leaders-- pretty much everyone who's on the company's permanent payroll-- and their significant others.

There must be thirty people in the private banquet room and, of course, the Murdocks were not going to go for a prix fixe menu.

My eyes scan the dining room beyond the safety of the kitchen where I'm queen and can handle any conflict. Out there though...my shoulders sag along with my confidence as I watch the tables fill.

My tenure as lead chef of Savor is on a trial basis. If I can't step up, they'll start looking for a new chef.

I have a lot riding on making sure I bring in good reviews and repeat business in order to prove I deserve to keep my kitchen.

Levi

T he fucking bosses sure do love their dress-up dinners.

I tug at the tie that feels like a noose around my neck and follow the hostess across the grand dining room to the private room where the company part is being held.

"Wasn't sure you were gonna show this year, man." Jake slaps me on the shoulder, over the fabric of the suit jacket that's nowhere near as comfortable as the lined flannel I left hanging on the peg by the door at home.

Jake knows how much I love getting dressed up for the events our company holds a few times a year.

He laughs at me as I search the tables done up with the deep burgundy linens and ornate center pieces of poinsettias and pine boughs, looking for my name engraved on one of the little cards sitting among the cloth napkins.

"Adam and Phoenix here yet?" I grouch, pulling at the Windsor knot at my throat a little more forcefully than necessary.

Our buddy's a newlywed, with a baby on the way already. Apparently he found himself a damsel in distress, played the hero, won a bride. Lucky son of a bitch.

Appetizers start appearing as I find my assigned seat. Shedding the suit jacket and draping it over the back of my chair, I grab a couple before they're gone.

"Food's better this year," I mention aloud as Adam and his wife make their appearance,

"Yeah, I thought maybe it was just me." Adam says, popping one of the tiny puff pastries in his mouth.

"I heard they have a new chef this year," Phoenix says, accepting a glass of ginger ale off a tray and taking a delicate bite of one of the stuffed mushrooms.

"He deserves a raise," I say, snagging another morsel from a passing tray. "I hope dinner's as good as these things are."

The banquet room fills up. Too many people for my taste and it'll be a while yet before we start sitting down for the meal.

I find myself wandering away from the main dining room, into one of the corridors that skirt this building, connecting the various areas with floor to ceiling windows looking out over the snow-covered mountains.

Fucking magic, man. It's early December, snow's been falling all week and a near-full moon has the rugged peaks lit up in a soft blue light.

I hate that my work is seasonal. Not being out in the woods for months at a time every year makes me itch more than the suit I'm wearing.

Adam got lucky. He's got somebody now. Phoenix looks at him like he's her whole damn world. Maybe if I had that for myself, being cooped up in the cabin all winter wouldn't feel like torture.

But last I looked, there weren't any more women hanging off of cliff-sides.

Behind me, I hear a door open. Must lead directly into the kitchen.

The sounds of voices frantically talking about canapés and sauces, punctuated by sounds that remind me of my grandmother's kitchen on holidays like this-- lots of people all whisking and chopping at once-- fill the empty hall, and then the sounds fade as the door closes.

The air is suddenly charged. An extra presence takes up some of the space that was all mine a second ago, soft soles muffling footsteps walking up to the window beside me.

The hall we're in is softly lit, intended to let the view outside take center stage, but I can make out the shape of her feminine curves under the garb that identifies her as one of the chefs.

Her hair appears to be a soft shade of brown, maybe a dark blonde.

It's hard to tell with it pinned up close to her head the way it is.

"Tough night?" I ask, desperate to hear the angel speak to me and at a loss for anything more clever to say.

"A little." She sounds tired, worried maybe, as she stares into the moonlit landscape before us, talking more to it than to me maybe.

"Tough party tonight," she says to the mountains. Her voice is melodic and soft despite the tone of despair present in it. "They haven't been happy with anything I've sent out. Probably going to lose my job after this."

"You're the head chef?" I wonder out loud, the flavor of those little bite size hors d'oeurves lingering in my memory.

"For now." She seems to snap out of her thoughts, realizing she's talking to another person. A professional demeanor slides into place, masking her sullen thoughts.

The girl turns to face me, a smile plastered on lips that have my full attention.

She's so much younger than I expected. Making me feel like a dirty old man for the things I've been thinking about her. She crushes her fancy chef hat in her left hand and extends her right for a shake.

"July West."

It takes a second and a half for me to respond to her gesture in any civilized manner. Blood's rushing, dampening my hearing and tunneling my vision, on its way south where it’s making my dick behave badly.

"Levi, uh...Davis." My brain finally gets a signal to my hand to take hers but when we make contact, I find myself unable to let go.

July's pillow lips pull into a smile that's sweet, innocent, shy, and a lot more real than the one she was wearing like a mask when she first looked up at me.

"Hi, Levi. Sorry about dumping my problems on you. I didn't expect anyone else to be out here."

Her eyes hold mine long enough for me to see my future in them, then they slide down the full length of my body in a quick once-over that might be just her realizing the size of me-- but feels like more.

My heart thumps and I have the dumbest impulse to beat my chest with my fists, toss the curvy little chef over my shoulder and carry her away some place where nothing can ever make her sad again.

"I have to get back to work." She sounds like she's explaining to me but then I realize she needs her hand back.

"I'm not fired yet," she plays off her fears with a brave laugh, setting the hat on her head and disappearing into the busy kitchen behind the door, turning back to give me one last smile before she's gone.

A party giving her grief? One that's got enough pull to cost her her job? We haven't even sat down for the main course yet for fucks sake.

I had back into the banquet room, feeling stunned, something primitive in my brain chanting "mine" on repeat.