Page 3 of Praise Me: Lumberjack
Right before the chains drop away, which will leave me completely naked and vulnerable to the camera—not to mention, everyone’s phones—the lumberjack drops his chainsaw and steps in front of me, blocking me from view.
“I’ve got you, baby.”
CHAPTER 2
Penn
Oh lord.
What have I gotten myself into?
One of the park rangers informed me a film crew from Los Angeles was out here making a ruckus and disturbing the wildlife. When I came to kick them out, this scene was the last thing I expected. A beautiful young woman chained to a tree being exploited by a bunch of men old enough to be her father. Vultures.
You’re one to talk.
Yeah. Fine. At thirty-three, I’m damn close to being old enough to be Jenna Fairchild’s father, too…and I shouldn’t be noticing her long legs and painted pink toes. I shouldn’t be wondering how her belly button tastes. Or how those big green eyes would look staring up at me in the dark. And I’m done noticing. Done. My kid has a poster of Jenna on her bedroom wall, for Christ’s sake.
Fine. She sure as shit doesn’t look likethatglossy representation anymore.
Not even close.
But she’s still young.
Way too young for a broken-down divorced single dad with a hint of a gut.
With that truth acknowledged, I force myself into a purely protective mindset and shield her from view, unbuttoning my flannel shirt to cover her, as soon as those chains drop. But I don’t quite have the final button undone when the heavy links drop to the forest floor and there she is, in all her naked glory, right there in front of me.
All perky tits and palm-sized hips. Tan lines in the shape of an itty-bitty bikini.
A pussy waxed clean as a whistle.God almighty.
Not to mention the gorgeous face that no doubt made her a multi-millionaire.
Every inch of her was sculpted by angels.
I only get a brief glance at her perfect curves and soft lines, but it’s enough to ruin me for the rest of my life…and now I’m just pissed the hell off, because these men want to show this off to the world against her will? Not if I have something to say about it.
My chest seizes up at the sight of a tear rolling down her cheek, and then I’m wrapping her in flannel, neck to knees, and hauling her up against my chest. “I’ve got you, baby,” I say again, vibrating with rage on her behalf. “Where are your…” I search for the right word. “People. Where are the people who are supposed to be protecting you?”
“I don’t have any,” she whispers, snuggling close to me, hesitating for the barest moment before wrapping her arms around my waist. “It looks like you’ve got the job now.”
“Me?”I’m shocked by the sense of responsibility that crowds my throat. “I’m supposed to be throwing you out of here.”
She leans back, her chin nestled in my chest hair, blinking tearful eyes up at me.
Pouts. Ever-so-slightly.
And my heart starts to knock in a dangerous rhythm.
“Can you take me to my trailer?” she sniffs.
“I…I, uh…”
Damn, I feel like an awkward giant, holding this flawless, young actress when I’m nothing but a laundry list of flaws. A chest full of hair. Faded tattoo sleeves, the beginnings of some love handles. Sure, I’m strong as an ox. I wield a chainsaw and load lumber for a living, but my free time is spent with my daughter, Erin, and pizza is the only food she eats, without fail. In another life, I was on a high protein diet and a strict gym regimen, but not now. I’m not soft by any means, but I’m not the kind of man who’d attract a princess of the screen like Jenna Fairchild.
Most likely, she sees me as the safe, older presence in this situation.
That’s what I’m going to be for her. The way I hope someone would be for my daughter, if she is ever in a bad position like this in the future.
