Page 5 of The Forbidden Summer (Pathfinders Lake #2)

Van

The summer sun beats down relentlessly on my face and back as I work.

My shirt is long gone, soaked through with sweat and itchy from woodchips.

Père had helped me roll some fallen trees surrounding the cabin into the clearing where I was chopping them into manageable-sized pieces.

Some of it would be used for the woodstove and the fire pit, and some for carving my sculptures.

The heat of the sun is nothing compared to the heat radiating off Père’s body, his shirt long gone, his chest covered in a light sheen of sweat.

My mind wanders as I take another swing. Damn it, I’ve never been this distracted before. I swing the axe again, missing the log completely.

“That's the third time, son. You chopping wood or just playin' with it?” Père’s voice carries across the clearing, teasing me, and I can’t help but feel heat rise to my face.

I’d be finished already if he wasn’t so damn distracting with his shirt off.

Hard pecs capped with dark brown nipples, dark chest hair salted with a few grays, and a flat stomach that narrows down to tapered hips.

His well-worn cargo shorts hug his generous ass, and the work boots and shorts combo is a favorite of mine.

Damn, my grandaddy is hot.

I raise the axe again, trying my best to focus. “Maybe I'm just testing the wood's durability,” I mutter under my breath, missing the log completely once more.

Père snorts from across the clearing. “If you're testing the wood, you're doing a damn poor job of it.”

I shoot him a mock glare, wiping sweat from my brow. “Well, it's hard to concentrate when I keep getting distracted by your... chiseled physique .”

Père raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Is that so? Should I put my shirt back on?”

“Don’t you dare,” I warn, laughing playfully.

He reaches for a cold bottle of water on the worktable and when he guzzles it, his Adam’s apple bobs repeatedly, in sync with the throbbing in my dick. Droplets of water escape his lips, streaming down his throat and chest, and I grip the axe tighter to keep from touching myself.

This is straight-up lumberjack porn, live and in person, just feet away, and I can’t reach out and touch him, or myself. It’s pure torture .

“I can’t wait to see what you make from those,” Père calls, crumpling the empty bottle in his strong grip.

Something phallic-shaped, no doubt, considering the course my thoughts are on.

He reaches for another bottle and brings it to me. “Here, take a break and cool off.”

I guzzle the water much like he had, and when I lower my head, I realize Père’s staring. I wipe my mouth, catching his gaze, and feel my heart start to pound.

“What?” I ask, my voice a little too sharp, but I can’t help it. There’s something about the way he’s looking at me—like I’d just done something that caught his full attention.

Père smirks, a slow, teasing grin spreading across his face. “Nothing. Just admiring the view,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine.

I blink, momentarily thrown off balance. “What, the view of me guzzling water like a dehydrated dog?”

He chuckles, the sound warm and easy. “You’ve got a way of making the simplest things look... interesting.”

I can’t tell if he’s complimenting me or messing with me, but either way, I’m too distracted by the sudden sting of his gaze to respond properly.

Shifting uncomfortably, I try to brush off the weird tension building between us, but it lingers like the humidity in the air.

My fingers tighten around the water bottle.

“So,” I clear my throat, hoping to change the focus, “you think I’m some sort of water-drinking expert now, or what?”

Père leans back against the tree with that same knowing grin, his eyes still warm but laced with something else. “I think you’ve got potential. But next time, try not to spill half of it. Might be more impressive if you don’t look like you just ran a marathon in a sauna. ”

I glance down at my soaked chest and can’t help but laugh, feeling my cheeks warm. “The sun refracts off the water, making me look more defined,” I tease, trying to salvage my dignity with a joke.

Père raises an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “You’ve been working those muscles hard today. Can’t deny that.”

My pulse kicks up a notch, and I force myself to meet his eyes, trying to keep my composure. “Yeah, well, someone has to do the heavy lifting around here,” I say, half-flipping the axe in my hand. It’s mostly to cover the nervousness bubbling up inside me.

Père’s gaze softens, and the teasing tone fades just a little. “You’re doing fine, kid. Really. Just... don't work yourself to the bone. We’ve still got plenty of summer left.”

“Kid? Oh, hell no. You can’t ogle my muscles in one breath and belittle my manliness with the next! Take that back.”

Père chuckles, the sound deep and warm as he crosses his arms over his chest, clearly enjoying my mock outrage.

“Oh, come on now,” he teases, his eyes glinting with mischief, “I’m just trying to keep you grounded.

You think you're all tough with those muscles, but you’re still my kid, no matter how grown up you think you are. ”

I squint at him, narrowing my eyes, trying to suppress the smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Well, if I’m ‘just a kid,’ then maybe I’ll have to start working out even harder, just to prove you wrong.” I flex an exaggerated bicep for effect, feeling a rush of playful confidence.

Père looks amused. “You keep flexing like that, you might just break something.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control.” I wink, tossing the axe to the ground. “But just so you know, I’ll be flexing a hell of a lot more than my muscles around here from now on.”

He lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. I’ll take it back, kid . But you better keep that flexing to a minimum unless you want me to have to throw you in the lake to cool off.”

I stand taller, striking another ridiculous pose. “I’ll take my chances. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?” I grin, glancing at him to gauge his reaction.

Père only smirks in response. “You might just find out sooner than you think.”

An undercurrent of something unspoken passes between us. But then he breaks the tension with a roll of his eyes, grabbing his own axe and walking past me.

“You’ve got a lot of work to do if you’re gonna catch up with me,” he calls over his shoulder, already moving to the next log, and I can’t help but grin at his challenge.

“Oh, it’s on,” I mutter, picking up my axe again with renewed energy, determined to show him that I’m more than just a kid .

He splits three logs in the time it takes me to chop one, and when we finish, Père throws me in the lake.

I hadn’t seen it coming. One second, I was wiping sweat off my brow, the next I was airborne, the world spinning before I hit the water with a spectacular splash.

The cold hits like a freight train, sending a shock through my entire body as I flail momentarily beneath the surface. I break through the water, gasping for air, only to hear Père’s triumphant laughter echoing across the dock.

“How’s that for a workout, kid?” he shouts, leaning casually against a tree, arms crossed, watching me sputter in the water like a drowned rat .

I wipe water from my face, glaring at him. “You son of a—” but the words are cut off by a burst of laughter that I can’t suppress. “You really had to throw me in, huh?”

He laughs, clearly pleased with himself. “Well, you were getting cocky with those muscles of yours. A good dunking never hurt anyone.”

Père stands on the shore, arms crossed, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips as he watches me flounder in the water. The lake's chilly grip around my legs makes it hard to keep my focus, but his teasing makes it worse.

I shoot him a look, splashing the water around me dramatically. “You gonna join me, or just watch me drown?”

He chuckles. “I’m enjoying the show. Besides, you’re not drowning. You’re just... pretending for the drama.”

I throw my hands up in mock frustration. “Pretending? Really?” I kick my legs harder, sending more water his way. "You know what? Fine. I’ll drown. See if I care."

“You might want to reconsider that,” he calls, uncrossing his arms and stepping closer to the water's edge. “If you drown, who’s gonna split the rest of those logs?”

I float for a moment, staring up at the sky and considering my options. Then, with a sigh, I swim toward the shore, disappointed he isn’t going to join me.

“Guess I’m safe for now,” I mutter, dragging myself up on the rocks.

Père reaches down a hand to help me out, and I grab it reluctantly. “You know, for someone who just got thrown in the lake, you sure seem to be taking it well.”

I wipe the water from my face, trying to act annoyed, though I’m secretly grateful for the hand. “Yeah, well, the least you could’ve done was give me a warning. You know, let me prepare. Maybe toss me a floatie next time.”

“A floatie, huh? And here I thought you liked a little danger.”

I swat him playfully, then stand and wring my shorts out. “You know what? I’m seriously reconsidering who I spend my time with.”

Père’s laugh cracks like thunder. “Don’t act like you’re not having fun, kid. You know you’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

Panic freezes my breath. “Don’t say shit like that, old man. You’re going to live forever.” What kind of world would this be without him in it? Not one I’d want to live in, that’s for sure.

Père’s eyes widen, clearly not expecting the way my voice cracked. “Easy there, son. I’m not planning on going anywhere anytime soon.”

But the way he says it—lighthearted and casual—doesn’t change the stone settling in my chest. I hang my head, trying to brush off the unease, but the thought of him not being around, of losing him, hits me harder than I care to admit.

“You’re right, you’re not going anywhere,” I mutter, focusing on the log I was about to split. The sound of the axe meeting the wood is loud enough to drown out the sudden buzzing in my ears.

But Père doesn’t let me off the hook that easily. He steps closer, his presence as big and steady as always. “Hey, I know you’ve got a lot on your mind. But it’s okay, you don’t have to act tough all the time.”

I scoff, not wanting him to see the sudden vulnerability creeping in. “I’m fine. Just... don’t make me think about losing you, okay?”

He studies me for a long moment before a soft smile tugs at his lips, a knowing one that makes my stomach twist in all the wrong ways. “You’re not going to lose me. Not if I have any say in it. Haven’t you heard? Fifty-six is the new thirty.”

I drop my axe, suddenly losing interest in the work I usually find invigorating and even cathartic at times. A wave of sadness sweeps me away. Père gathers me in his arms, his deep voice rough in my ear.

“It’s okay, sweet boy. I’m all yours, and we have all the time in the world together.”

His words vibrate deep down in my soul. The last time he called me his sweet boy, I must have been twelve. Lifting my head to meet his eyes, I can see his heart in them. He hadn’t meant to scare me, and I don’t want to make him feel bad for it.

“Promise?”

Père tips my chin in his calloused fingers. His warm lips land softly on mine. A chaste kiss with heart. A vow wrapped in a hug.

And wayyyyyyy too brief.

“I promise.”

I stand there for a moment, held in the warmth of his embrace, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath my ear. His arms are like a fortress around me, the kind I’ve always relied on, the kind that never falter.

But in this moment, I realize just how much I depend on him. He isn’t just the guy who raised me, who taught me how to fish, how to carve, how to be a man. He’s my anchor, the one constant in a life that felt anything but predictable.

I pull back just enough to look at him, my voice barely a whisper. “I don’t want to be alone, Père.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just studies me with that soft, understanding look. Then, after what feels like forever, he gives me a small, reassuring smile.

“Kid,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead, “you’re not alone. Not ever.”

I know that. And yet, hearing him say it out loud, feeling the truth of it in the way his arms held me, makes everything feel just a little more solid.

“You’ve got me for as long as you need,” he adds, his voice ringing strong with conviction.