by Kate Gilead
“His accent makes it sounds like he just got here.”
“He hasn’t been here long. He was a mess cook back home, too. His accent is hard to understand, but he’s a good guy.”
“Well I’m glad he didn’t scald himself when he dropped that pot.”
He looks at me with a small smile, and nods. “Me too.”
Mmm. What an attractive smile. Strong jawline, handsome, and a hot bod. He definitely looks like he hits the gym but carrying trees around or whatever he does probably helps keep him in shape.
Except for his size, he doesn’t seem like the stereotypical, unkempt lumber jack. For one thing, he’s wearing a normal t-shirt, not a flannel shirt with suspenders. Nicely trimmed beard and ‘stache, too, not a bushy beard the size of a small dog, like you’d figure.
Without really meaning to, I glance at his left hand. No ring.
He leads me around the mess building onto a dirt road heading away from the main camp.
“So, uh. Do you normally only hire men to work in these camps?”
“Actually, no,” he replies. “There haven’t been any female workers in this camp, but this isn’t your average site. Other camps, especially in the old days, had women workers. Cooks, bull cooks, even some lumber-jills. Not too many of those, but some.”
“Bull cooks?” Absurdly, I picture someone spit-roasting a whole steer, horns and all, over an open fire.
“General kitchen assistants. Housekeeping, firewood, wrasslers, gophers. Light maintenance and upkeep.”
“Oh. I guess that’s what my job’s supposed to be, then. So, what makes this site different from the average?”
He sips from his thermos. “Well, for starters, there aren’t that many logging camps anymore. Most forestry workers these days commute to work like everyone else, if they can.”
“And this place is too far away from town for commuting, I guess?”
“Yeah, there’s that. But it’s unusual in other ways, too. Since there’s no winter harvesting done on this property, we have to work longer hours when we’re here. We work all weekends except holiday weekends, which, as you know, happen once a month in the summer. On those weekends, we get four days off. Most men go home if it’s not too far. Some stay around.”
“Sounds like a tough schedule,” I remark.
“It is. But that’s not all. This camp has amenities that are downright luxurious for a temporary operation. Cell and internet, hydro, hot and cold running water. It’s unlikely that this is all just for a few season’s work.”
“So, how temporary is it supposed to be? I thought it was here last year, too?”
“It was. Like I said, we only harvest here in the warmer months. It’ll be another two or three years before we’re done.”
I consider this. I don’t know much about this kind of thing, but now that Jack has mentioned it, it’s making me wonder too. “It is kind of weird that there’s cell and internet plus hydro and running water out here, isn’t it? Where does the water come from? A well?”
His dark eyes regard me from under strong brows. “Yes, there’s three. Two drilled, one dug, plus water gets pumped from the river beyond the trees there. There’s also three water heaters and septic tanks, as well. Rumor has it there’s plans for fibre-optic internet but I wouldn’t count on that.”
Wow. “That’s not even available everywhere in the cities yet.”
“That’d be way beyond the usual, for sure. Seems like Becker, the landowner here, must have longer term plans. But, no one knows what they are so, don’t take that to the bank.”
I like his voice. It’s deep, but quiet for such a big guy. I look up at his face curiously, then take a sip of my coffee.
“Oh! This is good!” I widen my eyes at Jack and grin. “Damn. Best coffee I’ve had in a long time.”
“Isn’t it?” He smiles and takes another sip himself. “Sven’s secret blend.”
“He grinds his own coffee beans?”
“Yep. He does everything himself. All his dishes are delicious. Pasta with sauce, meat pies, curries, roasts of every kind, even game roasts, all with gravy, of course. He makes bread, too. White, brown, cornbread, rolls, you name it.
“Mmm!”
“Oh yeah. He’s a genius in the kitchen.”
We fall quiet as the road we’re walking on starts angling gently uphill.
The sun is starting to warm the day up. It feels so good on my head, and my skin.
For the first time, I really notice what a lovely morning it is.
The sky is so deep and clear, and all the fresh new foliage is so pretty to look at.
Seems like there are lots of tiny points of light all around me. Sunlight, sparkling off moisture in the grass and the foliage. Dandelion seeds and other bits of forest-fluff are floating everywhere, all of them lit up with that golden light. Even the spiderwebs strung between the heads of grasses, and insects buzzing around, all seem to be glowing with that magical light.
Bemused, I wonder if it’s the fresh air or if my hormones are getting stirred up by this sexy beast walking next to me.
Sure seems like my senses are sharpening up all of the sudden.
Whatever it is, I’m very aware of this large, handsome logging boss walking beside me right now.
I take another sip of the coffee. Ah, that’s probably it. Caffeine sharpens the senses, doesn’t it?
“Jack?”
“Mmm-hmm?”
“Is there more caffeine than usual in this coffee?”
“What?” He laughs…and oh gosh, how can there be a guy on the planet who looks so good? His laugh is so infectious, it makes me giggle too. “I don’t think so,” he says. “Why?”
Those strong, white teeth. That sexy crinkle at the corners of his eyes.
Suddenly I wonder if him being the camp boss, makes him my boss, too.
Shit, I think he is.
Damned if that doesn’t make him seem that much more…hot.
“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just wondering.”
He gives me an amused look, the smile still playing over his lips. I shrug, smiling back, and he laughs again.
Why does he have to be so hot?
Oh, boy.
I look away, focusing on the other kinds of natural beauty around me.
And it’s definitely beautiful here. The birds are singing their hearts out and…deep breath.
Ahhh! The air here smells so good!
As I breathe it in deeply, the knot that lives in my chest all the time seems to loosen, just a bit.
* * *
Without a word, Jack veers off the dirt road and onto a narrow path through the trees, one that I didn’t see until now.
Well, I’m game. I settle my purse strap more securely as I fall into step behind him.
Of course, now I can’t help but stare at his wide shoulders, the way they taper to his waist…and the way those triceps bulge, making the short sleeves of his t-shirt ride against them tightly.
Mmm. Very nice shape. And that butt! God, those glutes look powerful…I bet he can really run when he wants to.
Something in my belly seems to warm up, and that loosey-goosey feeling starts to spread down to my…oh, come on!
Five minutes with a hunk and I’m losing my shit over him? That’s what I get for going too long between boyfriends, I guess.
And yeah…he is a hunk, so I need to remember that. He probably has a wife or girlfriend back where ever he’s from…and he probably knows how hot he is, so…better not get my hopes up.
Better not get sidetracked from my plans, either.
The path narrows and then rises sharply under the trees here. It climbs up the side of a ridge, the brown earth full of roots.
I follow in Jack’s footsteps, using the roots as a kind of natural stair case, and the slender trunks of trees growing close by as handholds.
“Careful,” Jack says, holding a springy branch out the way for me as I step up over a particularly steep spot.
“Thanks,” I
murmur. Our voices are quiet in here, and I can smell the earth very clearly. It smells good, and clean.
As the incline rises more steeply still, Jack turns to offer a hand over the next rough spot.
I take his hand…aaand, there it is again.
A kind of a warm, liquid feeling that seems to flow from his hand to mine.
Okay, what the hell. That wasn’t my imagination.
Never in my life have I ever felt such a thing.
When I’m on firm ground again, he holds my hand for a second too long, looking at me with a strange expression.
Then he lets go.
“Uh. Almost there,” he says. “I like to come through here. There was a fox den here when I got here two days ago, but the vixen may have moved her cubs away from the camp noise since then.”
“Oh, nice! I’ve only ever seen a fox one time. It was trotting through a ravine behind my high school. I’d never walk through that place, though. It’s all full of old shopping carts and crap. Sometimes, homeless people camped there.”
“Homeless people? Where are you from, Molly?”
“Toronto,” I say. “And not the greatest area of town, unfortunately.”
“City girl, huh?” He looks down at me and grins.
“I thought the expression was “city slicker,” I reply, smiling back.
“Oh some people call ‘em worse than that,” he teases, flashing me those white teeth again. “But I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“Gee… thanks?”
Our eyes meet and we smile almost …well, kind of stupidly at each other.
Oh boy, I think to myself again.
Looking up at the skyline above the ridge, I still don’t see any buildings. Although I don’t feel the slightest bit threatened, I wonder if maybe I should. “Hey Jack? Where are we going?”
“To my office, as I said. It’s my cabin too, but don’t worry. You’re safe with me.” He smiles, and somehow, I feel like it’s true.
It’s not like I have a huge choice anyway.
“It’s just at the top of this hill.” He points, but there’s nothing to see yet.
“Hey, why is your office so far from the camp?”
“Far? We’ve hardly been walking for five minutes.” He gives me a look that says: Are you serious? But it’s a friendly look, not mean. “It’s the foreman’s cabin, doubles as an office. I could have driven my truck down, but I like to walk.”
“Oh. I guess I’m more used to driving than walking. Although, what we’re doing here is more like hiking, I’d say. Hiking with a thermos of coffee in hand, that’s a first.”
“Not for me,” he says.
We crest the hill and emerge from the trees into a clearing with an A-frame cabin set in the middle. Two small windows are set into the back wall of the building.
To the left, a pick-up truck is parked on the shaggy-looking grass.
I follow Jack around to the front… and the beauty of the scene before me stops me in my tracks.
The sun-kissed pond, the green dip of the vast valley rolling away below, and the miles and miles of forest that stretches away beyond that, as far as the eye can see.
Some kind of big bird floats over the valley. Must be a hawk or an eagle, because no crow or raven that I know of has a wing span that wide.
The warm sun, the clean smell, the birds, and even the insects buzzing around are all so calm and soothing.
It’s so peaceful and lovely, I’m transfixed.
Jack and I stand together and just…look.
And it’s strange, how I can feel him there…I can feel him like there’s an energy field surrounding us and that energy field is touching, even though he’s a few feet away.
Right now, somehow I can feel everything so clearly and deeply, as if there are millions of cells in my body that are just coming to life.
When I finally do look up at him, he’s looking right at me, somberly, his expression intense.
The sun lights his eyes from the sides, and I see that they’re not brown, like I thought. They’re hazel, deep green around the pupils with lighter spots here and there.
Oh, wow. He’s so…he’s just a beautiful man, that’s all.
And the way he’s looking at me makes my heart feel like it’s rolling in my chest.
Is he…could he be feeling this, too?
Maybe…it kind of seems like it…but, I don’t…I’m not sure. It’s so fast! You hear about things like instant attraction or love at first sight. That’s what happened to my mom and her second husband.
But it’s never happened to me.
We stand there for a few beats, just looking at each other, with this odd feeling seeming to grow between us, quickly and with such intensity it feels like an electrical field, so thick it’s almost tangible.
His hand starts to reach out towards me. But then he frowns, and draws it back.
“Um,” he says, turning towards the cabin. “Well, we better get inside and see if we can figure this out.”
Chapter Three
Molly
Jack’s cabin is rustic, but in a way that wouldn’t be too out of place in a magazine for fancy cottage get-aways.
A plank deck with a railing runs along the front face of it, with a couple deck chairs placed beside a big picture window.
Following Jack inside, the pleasant smell of cedar is the first thing I notice.
“Oh, cedar! I love that smell,” I remark.
“Me too. It’s the panelling,” Jack says, glancing around. “I cut it myself on a portable sawmill. Then the guys in the shop planed it all down, and me and another guy put it all up in a rainy afternoon.”
“Nice work,” I say, admiring how the fragrant wood panelling covers the walls in an attractive diagonal pattern.
“Thanks,” he says, glancing around. “Home away from home.”
Directly inside the door and to the left, there’s a cute kitchenette with butcher-block counter tops, with a couple of small oak cabinets mounted on the wall.
There’s a small, under-the-counter bar fridge in stainless steel, and a wee gas cook-top with two burners.
A hand-made rag rug warms up the laminate floor in front of a small sink. The window over the sink looks out to the sunny side yard.
Set in the middle of the kitchen is a tiny round table with two chairs.
Just past the kitchen area is a long, messy desk holding a laptop and printer, among a bunch of papers, notebooks, and maps. More maps and charts and lists are tacked to a big bulletin board on the wall above that.
Above the bulletin board, there are a bunch of framed, sepia-colored photos from what must be the eighteen-hundreds.
In one, teams of horses are hitched to enormous logs. Tough-looking men stand near the horses or on top of massive piles of timber. Other photos show scenes from a mess hall, a sawmill and at a riverbank where the water is so full of logs it looks like you could just walk across them.
Opposite the desk area is a small couch and a chair with a coffee table between them. Old-fashioned-looking wall sconces with hurricane-style glass shades are fixed to the walls. Over the living area, the walls are decorated with framed prints of wolves, bears and birds.
Just beyond that, tucked under a loft, are two open doors leading to small rooms. Through one door, I can see a bunk bed, its two single bunks holding bed clothing and blankets neatly folded under a pillow. A small window lets in the daylight above the top bunk.
Through the other doorway, I can see what looks like the corner of a bath rug. Yes this is a nice little set-up here, for sure.
A sturdy ladder leads to a loft above. From here I can see another wall-sconce lamp under the exposed-beam ceiling, and part of a quilt-covered mattress. That’d be where Jack sleeps.
What a cozy little place.
“You see that quilt up there?”
“Yes?”
“My mother made that from scraps of my clothes she kept from when I was growing up.”
“Did she?
”
“Yeah. You can tell I wore out a lot of blue jeans,” he laughs. “She made that rag-rug on the floor there, too.”
“It’s beautiful. I always admired people who can sew and create beautiful and useful things. She must be a very talented lady.”
“She is. Well, make yourself comfortable,” he says, gesturing at the living room furniture. “I’ll check the inter-office email first and see if there’s anything there. If not, I’ll call HQ.”
He plops himself into the office chair in front of the desk and fires up the computer.
I unload my purse onto the coffee table and take the comfy armchair, giving me a nice view of Jack’s broad shoulders again.
“This might take a minute. Even with the cell tower so close by, sometimes the connection is slow,” he says.
“Well that’ll change if they get that fibre optic cable in here,” I observe.
“Yes but that’s just a rumor. No one knows for sure,” he reminds me.
When the screen loads, he taps at the keys on the keyboard.
Letting my eyes wander around his desk, I notice a row of small photos tacked along the bottom of the bulletin board.
There are two photos of an older couple with greying hair, smiling at the camera together. The resemblance of the man to Jack is so close, it has to be his father.
In another photo, there they are again, a younger version of themselves, with a younger version of Jack. And, another young man who could be Jack’s brother.
Yes, definitely his family, then.
Another photo shows Jack and the other young man, each on either end of a double-handed saw. The saw is about halfway through a tree trunk. Jack is looking up at the tree, while the other man is striking a goofy pose for the camera.
And I have to smile, too, because both men are wearing flannel shirts with suspenders in that one.
There’s an older-looking photo as well, showing a much younger version of the couple, with two young boys in a boat. One boy, wearing a gap-toothed grin, is holding up a fish almost half the size as he is.
Yes, it’s Jack as a child. Aww! He was so cute! Those dark eyes, that bright smile, hinting at the handsome man he’d grow up to be.