Rock Hard Lumberjack: A Lumberjack And A City Girl Romance

by Rye Hart

  “Can’t say I feel much sympathy,” I murmured.

  He stood up, the cabin blazing behind him. “Keep your mouth shut!” he snapped, stepping forward and slapping me across the face so hard my ears rang.

  I spit out another mouthful of blood as he continued on his pathetic rant. “They might have just been criminals to you, but those men were my brothers! That was my family.”

  “You picked a shit family,” I murmured, looking up at him, my gaze defiant. I wasn’t going to let this jerk off win. If I was going down, I was going to go down swinging.

  His eyes narrowed and he closed the space between us, reaching out and gripping my jaw between his fingers. I was forced to look into his face now and I saw a man who looked far older than he really was thanks to years of drugs and alcohol. His teeth had all but rotted out of his mouth and his eyes were red and hazy, while the deep wrinkles in his skin did nothing to help his aged appearance. His breath smelled rancid and it made my stomach turn, but I never broke from his gaze. I wasn’t going to give this up without a fight.

  “You’re going to regret every word that came out of your whore mouth. Did you think I was just going to kill you?” he whispered. “Of course not.” A wicked smile came to his lips and I felt a shiver run down my spine. “I’m going to wait right here until that boyfriend of yours comes running. And when he gets here, I’m going to rip him to pieces right in front of your eyes.”

  My blood turned cold and I reacted without thinking. I started to scream. It wasn’t a fearful scream, it was an animalistic sound of rage. I pulled at the ropes that held me to the tree and I managed to slam my forehead into his nose.

  He howled and stumbled back, holding the broken and bleeding protrusion. “You whore!” he screamed stepping forward.

  He wrapped his thick hands around my neck and began to squeeze. I could feel the power and anger in those hands, squeezing and crushing the life out of me. My eyes fluttered and my head lolled as I felt the last of the air slipping from my body. I whimpered weakly and just as the world started to go black he pulled his hands away.

  “No, I want you to be awake for this,” he grunted.

  I sucked in as much air as my lungs would hold, watching him blankly as he started to tear at my shorts. Soon enough they were around my ankles and he was working at his own belt buckle. Blood was pouring from his nose and I could hear him muttering under his breath.

  “If she’s going to act like a whore, I’m going to treat her like one.”

  The acidic panic was coming up my throat now and I tried to yank my legs closed but it was no use. Luckily, the rancid, rotting man wouldn’t make it very far.

  A gunshot echoed through the forest and an explosion of red filled my sight. Blood splattered my ankles, but it hardly registered. The man fell forward, blood pooling underneath him where the bullet had entered and exited his skull.

  I was panting hard, laughter exploding from me out of pure instinct. Nothing in this moment was funny, but it was the only way I could vocalize my relief. I slumped against the ropes, my eyes closed. Before I knew it I was wrapped in warm, safe arms and the sounds of police sirens echoed around the mountains. The police weren’t typically the people Ryan and I would have relied on, but this time we didn’t really have any options.

  “Kisha, oh my God Kisha,” he whispered, kissing my face over and over again. “I’m here. I’m here,” he whispered.

  The words turned me to mush, and all I could do was collapse against him as he untied me. I eventually managed to pull myself together and give the police a statement. As soon as we were cleared of any crimes, we hopped in the truck to head back to Nashville.

  Damien’s convoy never came because the fucker had taken the men out before they could arrive. It was how he managed to find us. Even the strongest man could crack under the right kind of pressure. We hadn’t said much to each other since the rescue and I could feel his eyes on me every few seconds.

  “Kisha,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t,” I said simply, my voice even and relaxed. “I’m not mad.”

  “I shouldn’t have left you.”

  I took a breath and looked at him. “It’s probably better you did.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “If you hadn’t gone down the mountain, we would have both been tied to a tree and we’d probably be dead now. It worked out. I’m not mad.”

  He was silent for a long time. “How can you be so relaxed?”

  “I’m not. I’m shaken up as fuck, but it’s okay. I’m going to be okay and we’re going to be okay.”

  Another thick silence. “What did you need to go get in town, anyway?”

  “Well, this isn’t the ideal way I wanted you to find out, but no time like the present I suppose.”

  He handed me a small hunter green box and when I opened it, there was a delicate diamond ring inside and a small note that simply said.

  ‘Will you marry me?’

  Chapter Fourteen

  I said yes of course and in the spring we were married. Despite the horrid events in the mountain, we still went back there for our honeymoon. We weren’t going to let that asshole ruin the place we’d found love.

  Our story ended the way so many others do. It was a fairytale, really. We got married, we made love and we had two beautiful daughters who were growing up just as wild and fast as we had. Ryan was teaching them how to play pool and I was teaching them how to drive the little mini bikes we got them for Christmas.

  I leaned on the counter, watching as Ryan read to them. It was some outlaw, Western that he had loved growing up and the girls loved it just as much. I smiled softly and disappeared back into the kitchen to toss the first batch of cookies I’d made that night. I’d accidently burned them and had run to the store in order to buy the prepackaged one.

  Once we were married, I’d wanted to be a good wife, but cooking was just never a skill I was meant to master. I stacked the cookies on a tray neatly and carried them out to my children and husband, watching Shiloh and Riley squeal with excitement.

  Ryan took a cookie off the tray and bit into it, looking at me with a cocked brow. “Kroger?” he asked with a little grin.

  “Kroger,” I confirmed.

  He smiled and pulled me down onto his lap and the girls made faces of disgust. I just laughed and shook my head, placing a big wet kiss on Ryan’s cheek.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you more.”

  I smiled and nuzzled his cheek, “You’re going to have to prove it.”

  He just grinned and pressed his lips to mine and I was instantly transported back to our very first kiss. This was my life and I couldn’t have been happier with the way it turned out. I’d spent most of my teenage years thinking I was unlovable until Ryan came back into my life.

  He’d saved me. I knew that without a doubt.

  The End

  More Bad Boy Romance Stories By Rye Hart

  Rock Hard Mountain Man

  A Billionaire and a Virgin Romance

  CHAPTER ONE: MAGGIE DEAN

  I hated going to the mailbox. Nothing good ever came in the mail addressed to me. Some days the box was just crammed full of junk mail that I could toss in the trash without ever opening. I loved those days. I longed for them.

  Then there are days like today; the first few days after the first of the month. The days when most of our bills came and I was reminded how close to the poverty line we really lived.

  Today was November 3rd, so I knew even before I opened the mailbox flap what would be waiting for me on the inside. I wished I could have just ignored the mail altogether. I mean, would it be so bad for me to miss a payment or two? Really? Give a girl a break, will you Citibank and Capitol One and Wells Fargo? You can’t squeeze blood out of a turnip and you can’t squeeze money out of Maggie Dean.

  Then I remembered that I was already ninety days behind on the things that I could let skate a month or two or three. The credit card peo
ple loved it when you let the balance float ninety days past due. I was paying more in late fees and interest that in principal.

  Hard to believe that five dollar McDonald’s lunch that I charged to my credit card will cost me a hundred bucks or more before I get it paid off.

  That’s how economics work in Maggie’s world.

  Oh well. There was no need to prolong the pain any further. “Rip that Band-Aid off”, as my mom would say. I took a deep breath and opened the mailbox.

  Stacked neatly inside the box was the gas bill, the phone bill, the electric bill, three credit card statements, and three threatening letters from the same credit card companies letting me know that I was ninety days behind.

  No shit, Sherlock.

  The hole I kept digging every month just kept getting deeper.

  Gee, thanks for the reminders, guys. I mean, I had no idea I hadn’t made a payment in three months. Tell you what, let’s trade places for a week and see how you do in my shoes because I’m doing the best I can, but obviously, it isn’t good enough.

  I’m one straw away from breaking the camel’s back.

  And when that happens… shit, I don’t know what I’ll do.

  The one bright spot of this morning’s trip to the mailbox was the thick pack of coupons at the bottom of the stack.

  I tucked the bills under my arm and tore into the coupons as I walked back up the gravel drive to the house I shared with my best friend and cousin, Jackie, and my two younger brothers. Coupons were a necessity of life in Maggie’s world.

  When you’re a college dropout, a chef-in-training, and a full-time replacement mom to two brothers, you need to save every penny you can.

  If Jackie didn’t live with us to help cover the bills, this ship would have sunk months ago. That’s what my life felt like most days; like I was standing on the deck of the Titanic, watching the last of the lifeboats drift away, knowing there was nothing I could do but hold my breath until I finally went under.

  Damn you, Rose, there was room on that door for Jack, too, you selfish bitch.

  I made a grocery list in my head as I looked over the buy-one-get-one-free offers from the FoodMart.

  We were almost out of milk (we were ALWAYS almost out of milk).

  We needed bread, eggs, cereal, apple juice, fruit, frozen pizzas, laundry detergent; the list went on and on. How do four people consume so much? I suppose I shouldn’t be too shocked, given that two of those people are fifteen and seventeen-year-old boys.

  We were constantly almost out of everything at the Dean house.

  Jackie often said our last name should have been Hubbard because our cupboards were always bare. That would make me Old Mother Hubbard I suppose.

  No thanks. That’s a title I do not want or need.

  Although my current title wasn’t much better.

  Hi America, I’m Maggie Dean, Queen of the tough breaks. I’m 24-years-old and I work as a chef-in-training at a small family restaurant in Mountain View, Colorado.

  I love to cook, but had to drop out of culinary school when my mom died of cancer last year to take care of my younger brothers: Jimmy, fifteen, and Robbie, seventeen. They spend most of their time pushing my buttons and screaming things like “I hate you!” and “You’re not my mom!”

  Okay, they aren’t total monsters all the time. Jimmy is a smart kid who works hard to keep his grades up and Robbie has a gig delivering pizzas at night and on the weekends. He puts most of his pay into the family kitty to help cover the bills. They’re good boys, they’re just in a lousy situation.

  Oh, sorry, back to me…

  My likes are quiet moments alone, having enough money in the bank account to cover the rent, and long walks on mountain trails where nobody is screaming my name or telling me how much they hate my guts.

  My dislikes are pretty much everything else in my life.

  Oh, and I’m a virgin… so, yeah, there’s that.

  Thank you, America. Good night.

  * * *

  The tip of my nose was nearly frozen by the time I walked across the rickety front porch attached to our rickety house and made it inside. Even with the front door closed, I could feel the icy winter wind blowing through the cracks around the doorframe.

  I picked up the heavy blanket that I tacked over the door to keep the wind out. I had to stand on my tiptoes to hold the blanket up and secure it to the doorframe with push pins. I built callouses on my thumbs every winter from pressing push pins into the walls trying to keep Old Man Winter out.

  Jackie was sitting at the kitchen table with her head in her hands. There was a cigarette burning in the ashtray in front of her and a cup of coffee sitting under her nose. She was breathing in the strong aroma and letting the steam warm her face.

  It was cold as fuck in the house because our heat only worked when it felt like it. I kept saying that we needed to get it fixed, but the money was never there. One more time, welcome to Maggie’s world.

  “Long night?” I asked, dropping the mail on the table and refilling my coffee cup. It was a little past eight in the morning. I’d been up since six, prying my brothers out of bed and getting them off to school.

  I didn’t really have to ask the question. I could tell by looking at her that she’d had a long night. Jackie worked as a waitress at The Classic Cat, a strip joint on the edge of town that was open 24/7. She worked third shift, so she’d just gotten home about the time the boys were leaving for school.

  “Three bachelor parties last night,” she said, staring at me from under her hands. “I’ve never been groped so much in my life.” She nodded at the wad of crumpled one dollar bills she had dropped on the table. “Tips were good though. Maybe now we can get some heat up in this place.”

  I gave her a smile and sipped my coffee as I let my eyes wander over her face. Jackie wasn’t much older than me, but life was weighing heavily on her. She had dark curly hair and a pretty, round face. She was full-figured, with big boobs that poured out of the bikini top and a big ass that barely fit into the short-shorts she had to wear to work.

  I always made her wear a coat when she got home and the boys were here. I know how teenage boys think and I’m pretty sure cousin Jackie was the star of most of their wet dreams.

  Jackie’s ex had beaten the shit out of her one night about six months ago and she showed up on my doorstep. Thank God, she never left. She kicked in money for bills and helped wrangle the boys. If she wasn’t here, I don’t know what I would have done.

  “You need to spend some of this on yourself,” I said as I took the dollar bills and smoothed them out on the table with the back of my hand.

  “There is nothing I need,” she said with a tired smile. “Other than a good night’s sleep and a good long fuck.”

  “You’re terrible,” I said, frowning and smiling at the same time.

  “And you need to get your cherry popped,” she shot back. “Come to the club tonight. I’ll get you laid and paid before happy hour is through.”

  “Uh, thanks, but I’m going to pass.”

  “Okay, but don’t say I never offered to help.”

  “If I ever need help getting my cherry popped, Jackie Dean, you’ll be the first person I call.”

  “Well that’s depressing,” she said with a tired smile. She picked up the cigarette and took a long drag off it, then waved the smoke away. She nodded at the stack of mail on the table.

  “Anything from Publisher’s Clearing House in there? Please tell me we’re millionaires so I don’t have to serve drinks to douchebags anymore.”

  “Afraid not this month,” I sighed.

  “Too bad.” She took a slurp of coffee and licked her lips. “How are things at the restaurant?”

  The restaurant Jackie was referring to was Robert’s Steak House. It was a local, family restaurant in downtown Mountain View owned by Carl and Doris Roberts. They had been my mom and dad’s best friends when they were alive. They took me and the boys under their wing and helped us when they could,
but they weren’t rich, and every dime they had was tied up in the restaurant.

  When I had to drop out of culinary school in Denver to come home after mom died, they gave me a job as a chef-in-training at the restaurant. It was just a fancy title for kitchen helper. It was hard work and long hours and shit pay, but I was working in an industry I loved and hopefully someday I would have a restaurant of my own. That was my dream anyway. I was pretty sure that would never happen, but I had to have some bright light at the end of the tunnel that hopefully wasn’t a train for once.

  “The restaurant is good,” I said with a nod. “Business seems to be down, but Carl and Doris don’t seem too concerned.”

  Jackie picked up her coffee cup and eyed me from over the top. “Have they said anything about selling out?”

  I blinked at her. “No, why do you ask?”

  Her round shoulders went up and down. “The rumor floating around the club is that some big company is trying to buy that entire city block where the restaurant sits so they can tear it down and build a hotel or something. The City Council is going to vote on it next month. Something about imminent domain, where the fucking city can just take the property and sell it to someone else if they think it will increase the tax base.”

  “Such big words,” I said with a smile.

  “Yeah, well, Ted likes to talk while I’m blowing him in the back of his car,” Jackie said wryly.

  I smiled at her. Ted Reed was the married City Council President who frequented the club and screwed Jackie whenever his wife was out of town. Jackie didn’t know the difference between imminent domain and a Dunkin Donuts, but I did. I’d paid attention in high school government class while Jackie was off having sex with the captain of the football team.

  “Did Ted say the name of the company that wants the property?” I asked.

  She stubbed out the cigarette and shook her head. “Nope. Oh, shit, I almost forgot.” Her purse was on the table and she pulled it into her lap and rummaged a hand around the inside. She handed me a bent business card.