Page 5 of Heat Stroke

Or, it used to.

Now, it too will be tarnished by Blaze Fucking Carrington.

Muttering under my breath, “Ugh… Asshole…” I push the doors open.

Everyone is hustling. Guys with heavy leather gloves, hard hats, and safety goggles are loading logs into the planers. More guys on the other end, wearing the same safety gear, are catching the new boards and stacking them to cure so they can be wrapped and bundled for sale or transport. The beeping of the forklifts mingles with the whirring of the planers and the conversations of everyone working their asses off.

Cutting lumber is a dirty job, but it’s so satisfying. Glancing over at Blaze, I grin to myself as I see his clean jeans and crisp black polo shirt.

Oh, he’s about to be filthy.

The idea that his shirt will probably be ruined satisfies me immensely.

Nodding at the wall I’m walking toward, I wave my hand. “You’ll need a hard hat, safety goggles, and gloves. The spares are all the way to the right.” Stopping, at the wall of lockers, I open mine and slip on my hard hat and safety glasses; and lean down to grab the tool belt I keep in my locker for days like today. Once I refasten my ponytail a bit lower and grab the bandana from the belt to stuff in my back pocket, I bump my locker closed with my hip and pull on my well-worn leather gloves. Turning, I see that Blaze hasn’t moved. My brow raises as I ask, “Well, why aren’t you in the safety gear?!”

He smirks and nods at the lockers. “Have one for me?” Before I can respond, he pulls his polo over his head. My eyes widen as my gaze drops to the six pack abs the movement reveals.

Oh, my…

Oh my God… Stop it, Wren. You’ve seen muscles before. Jeez.

Shaking my head to regain my senses, I see he’s wearing a tight black t-shirt under the polo. He asks again, “Locker?” as he holds his polo out to show me, as if I’m slow. Rolling my eyes, I gesture to the bank of lockers. “Any locker without a nameplate is open. Pick one.”

Blaze nods. “Great. Thanks.” He opens one of the unclaimed lockers… right beside mine.

Really!? All of the empty lockers and you have to pick the one next to mine?!

He’s so close I can smell his cologne… or aftershave. It pairs nicely with the fresh scent of the cut wood and the heat. It’s fresh and clean and seems to compliment the smells of work.

STOP IT!!

What is wrong with you?!

Looking into the mill, I see the stacks of lumber that need to be tagged and stacked for Blaze. The mill foreman, Trés, waves at me. I wave back and use the hand signals we all know to tell him I’m heading over to help them out. He gives a thumbs up and turns back to what he was doing before he caught sight of me.

It’s not like he’s surprised to see me back here. I can be found back here, alongside the guys, helping out, and getting dirty at least once or twice a week. I know it’s hard labor and all, but it’s soothing to me and I love it.

“They don’t look surprised to see you.” I jump as Blaze’s breath tickles my ear.

Glancing over my shoulder, I freeze as I realize just how close Blaze is to me. I can see small faint freckles on his nose.

Why is he so close to me?!

Back up! He’s too close. Get out of my damn personal space, you creeper!

No! Don’t you dare back up, Wren LeSalle!

Trying desperately to stop my immediate reaction to move away from him, I say, “Why would they be?! I’m back here a lot. If they need help, I help.” My voice sounds perfectly calm.

Thank God!

Back up, Blaze. Why the hell are you so close to me?

He’s trying to get under my skin… Like he used to.

Screw him.

Blaze nods and reaches behind me, closing his locker. It clicks as the lock catches and I stare at him in challenge as he stays where he is. He’s toying with me. My eyes harden as I lock on his. He doesn’t move.

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