Lumberjack Werebear

by T. S. Joyce

  It was hard to stand on her wobbly legs after what they’d done. Something had changed on a cellular level inside of her. Feelings she thought she was incapable of were bubbling to the surface. Now, she was in much, much deeper with Tagan than she’d ever allow herself to admit out loud.

  As minutes dragged on, Tagan grew hard and swelled inside of her again. Without a word, he gently rocked until she came again. This time wasn’t rushed or desperate for release like before. This one he gave her just because he cared. He drew her orgasm from her softly and froze as she pulsed around him. Only then did he pull out of her.

  Tagan picked his sweater up from the ground and turned it inside out, then knelt in front of her and brushed it across her sex and down the moisture that had trickled down her thighs.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Cleaning you.”

  “But you don’t have to—”

  “I want to.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, feeling cared for and adored.

  When he was done, he pulled her panties on, then her jeans, then her bra. Turning her with gentle hands, he hooked the lingerie in back, then pulled her sweater over her head.

  When he was dressed, sans his shirt, which he kept clutched in his hands, he led her back down the trail, holding her hand and never taking his eyes from her for long.

  He kissed her at her door, chastely, like he was trying to be a gentleman, then said goodnight. But later, when the nightmares came back, and she was frozen and terrified in her bed, Tagan appeared as if he’d known her fear was coming. As if he’d known she would need him.

  He slid under the sheets and lay in bed beside her, then pulled her close and stroked her mussed hair until it was smooth.

  And she fell asleep again, all safe and warm and his.

  Chapter Eight

  Brooke stretched her toes toward Tagan, but found his side of the bed empty and cold. Frowning, she cracked her sleepy eyes open, then sat up. The soft tink tink of metal on metal sounded from somewhere outside.

  From the soft, gray light peeking in through the crack between the blackout curtains she’d put up, it was early in the morning. He probably had to go to work soon, but still, she was a little disappointed he hadn’t said goodbye. After last night, he was vital to her now.

  A louder clang of metal sounded, and she slipped from bed and turned off the humming window unit to hear better. She slid her boots over her pink flannel pajama pants and pulled her coat on to cover her northern half, because she was definitely not putting a bra on this early.

  Tagan wasn’t in the bathroom or the living room. Water splashed onto her face and teeth brushed, she pushed the door open to investigate the grating noise.

  Tagan looked up from the side of her car where a pile of tools sat haphazardly. His hands were covered in grease, and he was holding a metal bar of some sort. He gave her a megawatt smile and said, “Your brakes won’t squeak anymore. I replaced them. They were due.”

  “You changed my brake pads?”

  “Yeah.” He stood, looking worried. “Is that okay? I don’t like the thought of you going down those back roads with old brakes.”

  “That’s…” Oh God, she was not going to turn into an emotional crybaby first thing in the morning. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  “That’s sad,” he deadpanned, and she laughed. When the tools were back in the bucket that had been overturned, he stood and wiped his hand on a rag that had been hanging out of his back pocket. He approached slowly, but she’d be damned if he’d go back to treating her like just another friend after last night. She jumped off the last porch stair and catapulted herself into his arms.

  He chuckled and squeezed her tight. “You’re going to get me in trouble, woman.”

  “How? By hugging you?” She clung to him tighter, and he lifted her until her feet came off the ground.

  “Connor is gonna maim me.”

  “Connor can get over it.”

  Tagan winced and set her back on her feet. “Yeah, about that—”

  “T, you ready?” Denison asked from the front of his trailer. He was loading a lunchbox into the passenger seat of an old beat-up Bronco. “Hey, Trouble.” He greeted Brooke with a cheeky grin. “I shoulda known you were gonna come in here and stir things up.”

  “I like the name Trouble more than princess.”

  “What about Trailer Park Princess?” Haydan asked as he jogged down the stairs of his trailer next door.

  “Veto,” she called out. “Hey,” she said, turning to Tagan. “Can I come to the job site with you guys today?”

  “It’s not safe up there, and you’ll be bored. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I’ll sit somewhere out of the way, and I won’t bother you, I swear. I want to see what you guys do all day up in those mountains. Plus, I want to bring my sketch book and draw a new place. I was thinking of switching mediums for today and see if that’ll loosen me up a little. I can’t draw Markus’s face forever.”

  “Markus,” Tagan repeated darkly. “That’s your attacker’s name?”

  “Yeah.” She frowned. She hadn’t said his name out loud that she could remember, and just now, she’d skated right over it without it shredding her. Huh. “I swear you won’t even know I’m there.”

  Tagan sighed and hooked his hands on his hips, then stared at Denison’s Bronco.

  “I’ll make us lunch,” she said, bribing him.

  Tagan’s dark eyebrows arched, and he cocked his head at her. “You must really want to go.”

  She laughed and bit him gently on the shoulder. “Saucy man. Wait for me. I need twenty minutes.”

  “Denny,” he called out. “I’m taking my truck up there. I’ll come up right after you.”

  “Okay, bossman,” Denison said with a wave. “See you up there, Trouble.” He winked at her, as if he’d heard everything she’d said from way over there. Then he hopped into the driver’s seat while Haydan took shotgun.

  Connor got in the back seat, but his hard glare never left Tagan until the door was shut behind him.

  “Get to it,” he said, giving her a swat on the rump. “I’m gonna go clean up real quick and put the tools away, then I’ll be over to help.”

  Excited, Brooke bounded up the stairs, put the bacon in the skillet for a couple of BLTs, and got dressed in record time while it sizzled away in the kitchen. By the time Tagan came through the front door, she’d figured out what he meant by not cooking bacon in a trailer kitchen. The vent was worthless, blowing the air right back in her face, and didn’t suck the bacon-flavored smoke outside at all. And now the entire trailer smelled like breakfast. Her clothes would probably smell like it until she got a minute to do laundry.

  “You were right,” she muttered under her breath.

  He boomed out a laugh and promised to cook the bacon in the fire pit next time she had a hankering. When the sandwiches, baggies of chips, a bowl of fruit salad, crackers, and cheese cubes sat in the bottom of a cooler, she shoved her sketch book and a set of charcoals in her satchel and headed for the bedroom to grab a hair band.

  “Did you have breakfast already?” she called out, thinking Tagan was still in the kitchen, impatiently waiting on her.

  “Yeah, but I’m still hungry.” He was leaning against her bedroom door with a wicked smile on his face.

  Heat crept up her neck as she tried to hold his naughty gaze. “Hungry for what?”

  His gaze dropped to her thighs and he nodded his chin once. “You know what.”

  “Wait, you mean…” She screwed up her face. “You want to do that? To me?”

  “Hell, yeah,” he said, stalking her slowly.

  She backed up until the backs of her knees hit the bed. Folding onto it, she sighed. “I’ve never—”

  “Good.”

  She squeaked as he pulled her pants down, panties and all. It was daylight, and she’d never been comfortable enough to be naked in front of a man in full
light.

  “I like Denison’s name for you. Trouble.” He threw her pants in the corner and ran his hands down her bare thighs. “I knew you were trouble the second I saw you.”

  “Why do I get the distinct feeling you like trouble?”

  He chuckled low and pulled her legs until she was situated at the edge of the mattress. “You are the sexiest looking trouble I’ve ever found.”

  “Yeah?” Her blush became a little cooler on her cheeks. “I think you’re sexy, too. Hey, aren’t you going to be late to work?”

  “I’ll make you come fast,” he promised, apparently confident in his abilities. Cocky, sexy man.

  “This doesn’t sound fair for you,” she muttered, staring at the ceiling and wishing she was as self-assured in her body as Tagan was with his.

  “I’ll take care of us both,” he rumbled, his breath warm against the inside of her knees.

  He pushed her legs open farther and Brooke held her breath. Why would anyone willingly—oooooh. Tagan bit the insides of her thighs gently, then kissed her from her knees to her sex, slowly. Now, her legs were spreading without his help. She’d always fantasized about what this would feel like but had never been tempted to ask someone to do this to her. Tagan seemed to be enjoying himself just fine. When she lifted her head, he was unzipping his pants to unsheathe his huge erection.

  The first kiss between her legs was scary. The second was awesome. The third had her bones melting and on the fourth, he pressed his tongue into her and had her hips moving instinctively.

  The sound came from his throat, the growl she’d come to love, and vibrated against her clit as he moved his tongue against her. Lapping, sucking, licking, and she was already on the verge of tipping over the edge. It was so wet, so warm, so special sharing this with Tagan. Tentatively, she ran her fingers through his hair and rocked her hips against the perfect rhythm he’d set.

  Moaning, she spun out of control, helpless to stop the noises tumbling from her throat, which seemed to spur him to thrust his tongue deeper. Breathless and arching against him, her body clenched in pleasure as she came hard. Her body pulsed as Tagan pulled away and pushed her shirt up. He was stroking himself, long and slow, and she watched a single bead of moisture form at the tip of his cock. God, he looked beautiful like this, arms flexed, jaw tight, his gaze on her like she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. She wiggled under him more and lifted her shirt higher as his stroking became faster and harder. Propped on one arm, he leaned forward like he was right there—right on the edge.

  Brooke ran her hand up his tricep with the tattoo and gripped him there as the first jet shot onto her stomach. With each that followed, she reveled in how he made her feel. Adored, as if she was beautiful in Tagan’s eyes. Warmth trickled down her sides and onto the covers, but she didn’t care.

  She freaking loved this.

  She loved him.

  Her eyes went wide at the thought. She loved him? She hadn’t used that word since her college boyfriend. Love. Love? Yes. As she watched Tagan’s chest heave and eyes close against the pleasure of his release, she knew it was true. She’d never felt more right than she did right now with him. And it wasn’t because he was amazing at naked parties. It was the in-between moments, too. Holding her when she had nightmares, waking early to change her brake pads, making sure she had everything she could need at the barbecue last night. He was a man she could be happy with. And to make him happy in return, she needed to fix herself. Needed to heal from what her attacker did to her heart, so she could be open to Tagan’s affection. So she wouldn’t hurt him.

  From this moment on, she was going to fight for herself, and in doing so, she was going to fight for Tagan.

  He deserved a strong woman.

  Chapter Nine

  “So, you guys are called the Ashe Crew because you live in the Asheland Mobile Park, right?” Brooke held onto the grab handle to save herself from smashing her head against the window of Tagan’s truck.

  The roads were washed out and dangerous, but Tagan was sitting there with his arm draped across the wheel like the jarring didn’t bother him at all.

  “The Ashe Crew has been around for a very long time. That trailer park was named after us.”

  “But those trailers look about thirty-five years old. You can’t be a day over thirty.”

  “Not named after us exactly, but the others in the Ashe Crew before our time. Ashes hadn’t been on this land for a decade before the sawmill opened back up.”

  “Then why aren’t there any older men in your crew. You guys all look the same age.”

  The side of Tagan’s lip twitched, and he looked out the side window, as if he was hiding his eyes from her. “There aren’t many old-timers left. Too many rules, and when times started changing, they struggled to adjust. They battled each other into oblivion.”

  “Like lumberjack wars?” How had she never heard about this before?

  “Sort of. Not all of us are lumberjacks. Some are firefighters, some are homesteaders or ranchers. We usually lock up with others who earn the same living. And usually that living includes physical labor. It keeps our…it keeps us centered. Keeps us calm and able to live normal lives.”

  “I don’t understand. So, crews are like an underground club? Like a motorcycle club or something. Or a gang?”

  “Sure.”

  His voice said he wouldn’t give any more on that topic, so she made a crafty switch. “So, the Ashes, the Boarlanders, and the Gray Backs are all lumberjack crews.”

  “The Boarlanders are cutters. They switch back and forth between our site and the Gray Back’s. They go down the mountainside and cut the trees. Look,” he said, pulling to a stop and pointing.

  Sure enough, the side of a hill was covered in felled trees. They looked like messy stacks of toothpicks from here. At the top was what looked like a work area with gigantic machines.

  “They leave one tree up called a lift tree. They pick a big sturdy one, and that’s what we attach the cables to.” He dragged his finger through the air, across a long cable traveling down the mountain. “That’s called the skyline. We have a machine that can haul logs up using that, but they need a crew down there attaching the cables to the lumber. That’s my job.”

  She found it fascinating and leaned forward. Pointing to an enormous red machine with a long arm off to the side of the clearing, she asked, “What’s that machine called?”

  “That’s the processor. Connor runs that one. Watch the arm there.”

  Finger-like metal appendages reached down the hill to a pile of rough logs. With one in its grip, the tree was pulled through the claws and stripped of its limbs, then the ends were cut off to make a clean log.

  A trio of logs was hooked to cables hanging off the skyline, and they were dragged up the side of the mountain so fast, she gasped. “Isn’t it dangerous being down there with that kind of equipment flinging all around?”

  “Very. It’s dangerous up on the landing, too. You have to keep your head at all times and make sure you trust your crew. And,” he said, reaching into the back seat. “You always wear a hard hat. Always.” He placed the cold, yellow thing over her head and made sure it was snug before he pulled on his own. “I’m going to set you up behind the landing and well out of the way of the cables so I don’t spend the day worrying about you. Promise me you won’t go wondering around though, okay?”

  “Okay, I promise.” She gave a private smile and looked at the passing trees as Tagan sped up again.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Brooke,” he growled out.

  “I just think it’s cute when you get all worried and protective.”

  “Yeah well, protective instincts are part of the territory with me now. Especially after what we did last night.” The last part was mumbled, as if he didn’t mean for her to hear it.

  Tagan parked near Denison’s Bronco and jogged around the front of the truck while she finagled the cooler out of the back. He ope
ned her door and reached over her lap to help. Her breath froze in her throat as her body instantly responded to him, her nerve endings electrifying. He gripped her waist and snuck a glance to the landing, then back. With a naughty grin, he dipped forward and nipped her lip. “You want to wear my jacket today?” he asked in a gruff voice.

  “So you can be reminded about last night? No, no, no. You need to be careful out here, remember. Since it’s so dangerous and all.” She kissed him again, gently, just a peck to show him she cared. “But thank you for the offer.”

  “You know, it wasn’t just for me,” he argued. “The wind is harsher up here in the hills, and your jacket is too thin.” His gaze dipped to the crease between her legs. “You could put it over your lap.”

  She tapped on his hard hat thoughtfully with her fingernails, then nodded. “You win. I’ll bring your jacket.”

  His grin grew bigger, reaching his eyes until they danced. “Good. I like the thought of it on your lap even better.” He leaned forward and whispered into her ear, “Because then it’ll smell like you, all hot and ready for me.” He nibbled her earlobe, tickling her until she giggled and shoved his shoulder.

  “You have a one track mind, you little beast,” she said, trying to look serious. From the amusement swimming in his eyes, she’d failed.

  “I am a beast,” he declared. His smile faded. “You’d do best to remember that.” He grabbed the cooler and helped her from the truck, then led her up the hill to a group of large boulders well out of the way of danger, but where she could see everything going on. “Lunch is in three hours,” he said. “I’ll come get you.”

  “Hey,” she said as he made to leave. “I like you.”

  A slow, hopeful-looking smile crooked his lips. “I like you, too, Brooke.” Gathering her hands in his, he kissed her knuckles lightly, like he had in the grocery store, then jogged nimbly down the hillside toward the landing.

  Her hands were warm where his lips had touched her skin. His jacket smelled like him, woods and man and some sort of crisp, clean-smelling body wash, and something more in the undercurrents. She pulled another breath and frowned in concentration. Animal? The mixture of his scents was so alluring she inhaled three more times before she settled the jacket onto her lap and pulled her art supplies from her satchel.