Page 9 of Jealous Lumberjack

What I don’t see? A phone. A computer. Or signs of anyone else.

My gaze snags on the things lining up one side of the wall to the right of the hearth. More traps again—steel teeth, coils, rope.

All the signs of a grumpy recluse who doesn’t look kindly on intruders.

My stomach drops.

There’s no way out. Not without attempting to get on his good side. A side I’m beginning to doubt he possesses.

But I can’t give up. I didn’t break away after three years of gaslighting and belittling…one long year after admitting I was throwing my life away on a man who didn’t deserve it, to fall into the clutches of another beast.

I drag in a shaky breath. “What do you want from me?”

Silence.

The quiet stretches until my skin itches. Until I can’t stand it.

“Say something,” I whisper.

Finally, he turns. Those dark eyes pin me to the chair, heavy as chains.Moves slowly from my disheveled hair to my scratched calves and ankles and back again. Back and forth. Back and forth. And as he does, the dark spark turns into living flames.

My heart stutters and I can’t tell if he’s going to break me or…something worse.

But he doesn’t speak.

He just stares.

And the longer he does, the more heat coils low in my belly, and the more I hate myself for it.

I force my chin up, even as every instinct screams to curl in. If he thinks I’ll beg, he’s wrong.

“Fine,” I mutter, hugging my arms tight. “Stay silent. But you can’t keep me here forever. That’s not gonna happen.”

My voice sounds braver than I feel.

His mouth twitches.

Almost a smile. Almost a promise.

And God help me, it only fans the flames burning in my belly.

He stomps around the cabin for another five minutes, then my heart lurches when he goes to the door. The bolt slides open, heavy and loud.

Still, he doesn’t say a word, just throws open the door and walks back out into the clearing.

I wait a minute. Three.

Then I creep to the window, wincing at my body’s soreness, and press my palms to the glass.

He’s there, right where I first saw him through the trees, swinging that axe, splitting wood in clean, brutal strokes. That initial glimpse of him had made me forget to be quiet or careful, leading me to step right into his trap.

Then, as now, I’m held in thrall, my silly mouth gaping.

Because…heavens…his body is a machine, every line taut, every muscle flexing with obscene strength. Sweat glistens down his chest, catching the sun.

I don’t want to watch. But God help me, I can’t stop watching.

The sound of the axe sinks into my bones.Crack. Crack. Crack.