by Oliver, Tess
“You like grape slushes.”
Her eyes rounded with surprise.
“Your lips were purple yesterday.”
A dimple creased her smooth cheek. “Charlatan. You would have been a perfect snake oil salesman.”
She skirted around the desk and walked carefully through the piles. There was only a slim space of open floor directly in front of me, and her small feet landed on it. She was just one step away, close enough to touch and, damn, did I want to touch her.
She peered up at me with sapphire eyes and crinkled the order paper as she pushed at the massive sleeves again.
I stared down at her. My nearness, or more likely the way I was looking at her, something I couldn’t seem to help, flustered her. “You’re looking for someone or something that was lost,” I continued. “If you had to pick between walking along a beach picking up broken pieces of shells or walking through a jewelry store picking out a diamond, you’d choose the beach. And you like to be kissed. No mushy shit. Just a long, hard kiss that doesn’t waste time and gets right to business.”
Her long black lashes fluttered down and contrasted with the pink in her cheeks. “Everyone likes to be kissed.” She lifted her gaze to me again, and something about the way she looked at me caused an unexplained tug in my chest.
It took me a second to recover. “And the broken shells? Am I right?”
“All right, maybe you’re slightly psychic.” She pinched her fingers together.
“And—” I continued, “you wish to hell that you weren’t wearing that annoying sweater that smells like Hal Stevens’ stale aftershave. Old Spice smells way better on you, by the way.”
“Glad you’re entertained by the sweater, but it’s cold in this office.”
“It’s not the sweater, it’s the whole worthless attempt at covering up what I already know is there.”
Her cheeks darkened and her chin jutted forward. “Well, the other men haven’t seen me before, and Mr. Stevens thought this would be a good idea. You know, because it’s cold in here and everything.”
“Right. The lack of heat. Darlin’, if you think that sweater is hiding the fact that you are a fucking heartbreaker, I’ve got news for you, it’s even more of a distraction.”
She shoved the pink paper toward me. “I need to get to work. Here are the orders.” My fingers covered hers as I took it. I had a hard time pulling them away. In fact, I wasn’t really trying because I was having a damn good time watching her squirm. I finally let loose, and she whipped her hand back. The sleeve rolled down a few inches below her fingers.
The door to the office opened. I turned around expecting to see Hal. It was Walt Pickman and two of the other scalers. Walt yanked his beanie from his head. All three guys stared at the girl with bug eyes and open mouths.
“You guys looking for Hal?” I asked.
“Hal? Uh, yeah, is he here?” Walt stuttered without taking his eyes off of Tashlyn.
“He’s off site for a few hours,” Tashlyn said.
They stood frozen to the spot as if a giant magnet was holding them.
I turned back to Tashlyn, unable to hold back my grin. “Guess I called it on the sweater camouflage, eh, Woodstock?” I held up the order paper. “Thanks for your help.” I slid past the three gawkers and out the door.
Chapter 7
Tashlyn
Hal, as he insisted I call him, stood hands on hips, smiling down at the remainder of the files spread on the floor. “Impressive. I’ve only been gone for a few hours, but you’ve made great progress. Considering it took me a few years to make this mess.” His laugh was the kind that could shake windows. He looked at the big silver watch on his thick wrist. “Halfway done and it’s only two. Did you even take a lunch?”
I straightened from the file drawers. An hour into trying to work in the oversized sweater, I’d made the wise decision to take it off. Jem had teased me about it enough that I’d given the whole thing some thought. I was planning to work here every day and the male workers were going to have to get used to having a woman around. It was their problem to overcome not mine. “No, I didn’t want to leave the folders out on the floor. With the constant flow of foot traffic through here to the break room and the locker room, I was worried they would get trampled.”
He looked around at the cement floor of his office. The rectangles of papers had been mostly replaced by dirt and sawdust carried in on the bottom of steel-toed boots. Hal reached up and rubbed his round chin in confusion. “Do you mean to tell me the men have been tromping through here to get to the break room?”
“Well, yes. They were all careful to watch where they—”
“Those sneaky, dirty rotten sons of—” He stopped the string of words and stomped around his desk toward the two doors at the back of the office. As he reached for the knob, the door flew open. Two men who’d come through a half hour earlier to take a lunch break were walking out. They both stared wide-eyed at their boss.
“Since when do you guys walk through the office to get back to the mill?” Hal asked sharply.
“Sorry about that. Must have forgotten,” one of the men stuttered as they both turned and made a quick retreat. I leaned over and stared into the break room. It had three round tables and sets of mismatched chairs, a refrigerator, a microwave and most notably, a back door.
Hal slammed shut the door and scrubbed his fingers through his thinning hair. His gray eyes seemed to be lost in thought for a minute, then he turned to me. “No one else will come through here unless it’s to speak to me.” He stopped and looked at the dirt on the floor. “No, wait, we need to take care of this right now.” He seemed to be thinking aloud. He walked to the microphone on his desk and picked it up. Three sharp beeps rang out over the yard. They were followed by a rough, scratchy sound. Hal spoke and his deep voice was projected out across the mill and to the forest and trees beyond. “Attention all workers. Let me have your attention please.” I paused and leaned down to look through the dusty front window of his office. Outside, some of the loud equipment slowed from a roar to a hiss and the tractors stopped moving. Hal cleared his throat. “Next man to walk through my office will be handed his ass and shown the door . . . or in this instance, the front gate. Back doors only for the locker and lunchroom. Yes, we have a new person in the office, and while she doesn’t look or smell like the rest of you knuckleheads, she’s here to work. So leave her the hell alone, or, like I said earlier, you’ll be walking out the gate with ass in hand. Now get back to work.” Hal nodded in approval at his speech as he put down the microphone. “Now, the papers are safe, so go take your lunch.”
“Thanks. I am hungry.” I walked to the door and reached for the knob.
“Uh, that’s the locker room. I guess I should put a sign on them since they’re both the same.”
“No, I’ll remember.” I glanced around at the files still left on the floor. “With no more interruptions from dirty shoes stomping through the office, I should have this done today.”
Hal growled. “I should knock each and every one of them upside the head.”
I walked into the break room and was relieved to see it was empty. Everly had been kind enough to fix me a ham and cheese sandwich to take along for lunch. She’d even stuck in some red grapes and a bottle of iced tea. I had no idea how I was ever going to repay her for all her kindness. For now, I had only my friendship to offer, which she seemed happy to have. I was definitely happy to have hers too.
I carried my lunch to the table next to a large window. Crumbs of food stuck to the grease on the table. I pulled out the napkin Everly had stuck in the bag and wiped away the crumbs. The room was dingy and cold, but the view from the window made up for the lack of comfort.
A long river cut through the mountains, eventually disappearing behind jutting rocks. The deep greens of the trees and pearly pink
s of the granite cliffs looked as if they were fresh off a painter’s palette. I stretched my neck to see down below. A truck was sitting patiently as a man on a yellow tractor-style vehicle with a giant claw plucked fresh cut trees from the bed. Beneath the ramp where the truck unloaded was a section of river that ballooned into a glassy, navy blue pond. Logs covered most of the surface.
Even from the distance I sat, it was easy to recognize Jem Wolfe standing on top of one of the logs. He had the sleeves of his blue flannel shirt rolled up, and he was holding a long pole. Tattoos covered almost his entire left arm. He had a gray beanie pulled down over his hair, and beard stubble covered his perfectly chiseled, yet scarred chin. Dark and dangerous. It was as if the phrase had been developed solely with Jem Wolfe in mind.
A boat that resembled a miniature tugboat was docked near a long, smooth curb of cement and precariously close to where the logs were being dropped into the water. A large man dressed in a red flannel shirt and matching beanie pulled low over his head worked the levers in the boat. His size made the boat look like a toy as he maneuvered it between the floating logs and debris.
I took a bite of sandwich and slowly chewed as I watched Jem balance on one log and push others around with the pole. He stood as easily as if he was standing on solid ground. Now his ease at hiking the slippery, steep terrain at Phantom Curve made sense.
The man was most definitely cocky, confident and annoyingly hard to ignore. Without any effort at all, he managed to evoke an entire array of emotions in me. One minute I was blushing with shyness, the next, I was tightening my fists in anger. And in between, I was thinking about what it would be like to kiss him, and not just any kiss, but as he’d so richly described, a long, hard and getting down to business kiss.
I finally dragged my gaze away from the scene on the river and plucked a grape off its stem. Tomorrow was Saturday, and Everly had promised to introduce me to Alice, the bookshop lady with the old newspaper collection. I’d decided, as hard as it would be, I would find the original article about my dad’s death. I hoped it would give me some kind of clue. There had to be something to explain how I’d ended up at the forest ranger station. As blank as that piece of memory was, I was certain it had something to do with the accident. I’d been so dazed and tired and in shock when the ranger found me walking along the road, I couldn’t even remember my name. By some incredible coincidence, a woman who’d worked in a grocery store near my childhood home had been visiting a cousin in Blackthorn Ridge. She saw my face on the local news channel and called the police to let them know who I was and where I lived. The police matched my name, Younglove, with the name of the trucker whose charred body had been found in the ravine several days earlier. While I’d had plenty of bumps and bruises when they found me, there had been no evidence that I’d been in the truck when it went off the road. Nothing about that slice of time made sense. Even the police had been stumped. They’d eventually gotten hold of my only living relative, my mom’s sister, Aunt Carly.
I sucked on a grape and turned my attention back to the water. Jem hopped from one log to the next moving closer to the splash area where the logs were being dropped into the pond. With the help of his pole, he rode the final log like a paddleboard, never losing his balance even when giant ripples of water rolled beneath him.
As I watched him, someone from shore yelled, “Watch out!” An out of control log fell from the giant yellow claws, but instead of dropping into the water, it spun wildly around once and landed perpendicular to the shore. On its errant path, it knocked the man from the tiny boat. His body flew several feet, landing, mercifully, in an area of water that wasn’t covered by solid logs.
I jumped up from the chair and pressed my face to the window. The man disappeared beneath the surface. My gaze shot back to Jem, who had been balancing on a log a good twenty feet away. Without hesitation, he dove through the wood debris. Just like the boat operator, he vanished.
I raced into the office. A bell had sounded outside in the yard, and Hal was just leaving his desk chair to see what the commotion was about.
I raced past him to the front door. “They’re both in the water. The man on the boat was knocked overboard, and Jem dove in after him.”
Hal was grabbing his megaphone and walkie-talkie as I spoke. A voice came through the radio the second it was in his hand. “Hal, we’ve got an accident on the pond. Finn is in the water. Jem went in after him. Over.”
Hal lifted the walkie-talkie. “Do you see either of them yet? Over.”
“Negative,” the voice returned.
I followed Hal out of the office. The man who’d been knocked into the water was Finn, Everly’s crush. Other workers were racing toward the pond. Hal moved too slowly. I ran past him and followed the others. Jem’s brother, Dane, was at the front of the pack.
All machinery had been stopped, and aside from a low hiss of steam coming from the mill, it seemed there were no other manmade sounds in the yard other than the worried mumbles. The man who had been running the giant claw machine was standing at the edge of the cement curb with his hand shading his eyes as he surveyed the water.
Hal had finally reached the river. It took him a few seconds to catch his breath. But his workers in the cold, treacherous pond didn’t have a few seconds. They’d already been under for what seemed an impossibly long time. I crossed my arms tightly around myself to stop the shaking.
Logs rolled over the surface of the pond sealing shut most of the escape routes. In some places there was only a solid surface of raw logs with no signs of the dark blue water beneath. I joined the men lined up on the ridge of cement to look for signs of life. Jem had gone in after his coworker so quickly, I badly wanted to erase any of the negative thoughts I’d had of the man.
“Jem!” His brother’s face was stretched smooth white with worry. He didn’t stop on the shoreline like the rest of us but lumbered right off the shore and onto the nearest log. Like his brother, his incredible balance made it look easy, even with no spikes on his shoes. His long legs stretched from one log to the next at a frantic pace.
I bit my lip to keep myself from crying. Just as Dane reached the unmanned boat, a head broke the surface of the water. Jem gasped for breath while struggling to hold onto something heavy. That’s when a deathly pale face appeared on the surface of the pond.
Dane got down and straddled the log. He leaned over to help Jem lift the unconscious man out of the water. There was little they could do but drape him over the log. Jem looked cold and exhausted, but he stayed in the water and helped navigate the log through the debris and back to shore. Several men on shore helped pull Finn to dry ground. Dane hopped back onto solid ground and gave his brother a hand out of the water.
Jem dropped to his knees to catch his breath. The usual hard, confident shell had been cracked. Pain and worry showed through, contradicting everything Everly had warned me about. In fact, he was the man who’d just risked his own life to save his coworker, the man Everly loved.
Hal went right to work giving Finn mouth to mouth. He looked pale and lifeless. A circle of grim faces looked on as Hal knelt over his victim. It was a shocking, horrid scene, a bad first day on a new job. In the far distance, through the quiet, crystal clear forest air I heard a siren. Red lights spun overhead on the highway as the paramedics rushed toward the mill road.
A cough broke the tightly wound tension in the yard and sighs of relief followed. Finn was alive. Hal stayed knelt next to him, while receiving a few well-deserved pats on the back. The color was just returning to Hal’s usually ruddy face as he looked around. “The medics are on their way down, so Finn is in good hands. I think the rest of you have work to do. Jem, go inside and change. The pond is a big mess.”
Jem pushed to his feet.
“Oh, and Wolfe,” Hal barked and then he lifted his chin at him, in what I decided must have been sawmill code for thanks because J
em retuned a nod. And that was that. A man, two men, had nearly met their makers in the icy pond, and it was back to business as usual for everyone but poor Finn.
The red paramedic and fire trucks swept up a cloud of dust as they raced into the yard. My heart had barely returned to its normal pace as I reached the office. I stepped inside and stared down at the rest of my organization task. I’d only had ten minutes for lunch, but I was no longer hungry. The entire scene outside had been surreal. The other workers, who had been visibly shaken, snapped right back to work with hardly any hesitation. One thing was certain, the bravery medals for the day went to the Wolfe brothers. Dane had jumped onto the logs without a second thought. Of course, it was his brother who was under the ceiling of raw timber. Still, not one other person had lent a helping hand out on the water.
I skirted around the remaining files to find out where I’d left off. My dramatic lunch break had left me slightly frazzled. Lunch break. I’d left my lunch out on the table. I headed to the break room to clean up after myself.
It took only a second to realize I’d opened the wrong door. Jem was standing in front of the lockers. His wet clothes were piled on the bench. He made no attempt to cover up his naked body.
“Oh shit, wrong door,” I chirped as I backed up. My head and back smacked the edge of the open door, and it shut behind me, leaving me standing in the locker room. I quickly proved to myself that I was completely human. My face felt hot and my breath was stuck somewhere deep in my chest. I couldn’t pull my gaze away from him. There was no other way to describe it. He was finely chiseled perfection. And the crooked grin on his face assured me that he knew it.
Slowly, he stepped into his pants. “Not a problem.”
I had to will myself not to stare at him, at all of him. There was nothing disappointing about the man . . . physically. He pulled up the jeans but left them unzipped as he rested his hand up on the top of the locker door. My eyes kept getting drawn to the dark line of hair bisecting his abdomen and disappearing below the wide open fly of his pants.