Page 6 of Craved By the Lumberjack

“I mean, I love sweets as much as the next guy,” I rushed to add. “I’m just saying I don’t need bear claws four times a week.” I let out a breath. “I took them to our job site and handed them out.”

I’d eaten one, of course, but that wasn’t the point. I was trying to be honest here about the reasons I’d ordered from her so much. I took a deep breath and continued.

“I ordered so often because I wanted to see you. It was my excuse.”

There. It was out in the open. If it scared her off, so be it. She might be completely creeped out by this big, burly man—who filled up an entire cushion of her couch—summoning her to my front porch because I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

But when she looked up at me, her eyes were wide, and her expression had softened considerably. I even saw a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“You wanted to see me again?” she asked. “Why?”

“Because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And now that I’ve gotten to know you, I see it’s not just the outside, but the inside as well.”

Oof. Man, I was being a dork. I wouldn’t blame her if she left. Not because I was a stalker, but because I was basically throwing myself at her. I’d never done that before.

“I have a confession too,” she said. “I kind of picked the house next door because it was on the same street.” She hesitated, her cheeks turning pink. “I didn’t know it was next door at the time, but the idea of living near a hot lumberjack with a sweet tooth sold it for me.”

We stared at each other for a long moment. I couldn’t speak for her, but I had no idea what to do next. It was clear we were both attracted to each other, and now she stood holding two desserts.

So I said the only thing I could think of. “Let’s have dessert. I can’t wait to see what an apple puff pastry tastes like.”

4

DELTA

Normally, I’d be in my happy place. An apple pastry and ice cream were just about my favorite things on earth. Plus, I was eating them while seated on a sofa with a gorgeous man who had made it clear he was into me.

“It kind of sucks living here,” I said after we discussed the town for a while. “I mean, I know I’m lucky. It’s the most beautiful place on earth, but even in Adairsville, it feels like everybody moves away as soon as they have their high school diploma. I went to UNC and when I dropped out, all my friends were still in college. Some returned for summers, but over time, even that faded. Now they all have jobs elsewhere.”

“Not too many job opportunities in Adairsville, North Carolina,” Kingston said.

“And Boone’s too far to commute. It just sucks when it comes to having a social life.”

“There are plenty of people around your age up here these days,” he said. “Some of them are married to guys on my logging crew.”

Yeah, I’d noticed that. I saw them walking down the street and rushing to their jobs in the shopping center. I just couldn’tfind an opening to get to know anyone—not in a “Hey, let’s go out for drinks” sort of way.

“I assume dating someone your own age is tough,” he said.

I nodded. “All the men moved away too, but I don’t know. I’m starting to think maybe that’s the problem.”

He’d polished off his pastry and the two scoops of ice cream I’d put with it and set the dish on the coffee table. Now, he shifted to face me slightly, his hulking form suddenly taking up part of the cushion between us.

“What do you mean?”

His question had me reviewing my words. What had I meant by that? I wasn’t exactly sure.

“The last time a guy asked me out, he kept trying to convince me to come over and hang out. He was going to order food delivery.” I laughed. “And not even from one of the nicer places in town. Fast food. Burgers.”

That was when I was in college, before I’d started food delivery. Although the story would have been even funnier if it had been after. Maybe he would have thought he was treating me by letting someone else deliver food for a change.

“Tacos on TV trays aren’t much fancier,” he said.

Oh crap. Had I just put my foot in my mouth? I scooped another bite of ice cream, combined it with about half of the small amount that remained of my pastry, and prepared to take a bite.

“Is this a date?” I asked.

I shoveled food into my mouth after asking that question, mostly to keep myself from adding to it. I watched him as I savored the taste of sweet mixed with a slight dash of spice. Nutmeg, I was assuming.

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