Page 26 of Caught in the Axe
“Didn’t mean to startle you.” He shifted from one foot to another, surveying the room. Gus was thick and strong, and he usually carried himself with ease, but right now, it looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin. His broad shoulders were hunched and his hands were shoved into the pockets of his jeans. What was it about the Hebert boys and this building?
“Just checking in on you,” he said, his voice gruff as always. Gus was the prototypical protective older brother I’d never had. His kindness since the Cole mess would not be forgotten.
“I hope Owen isn’t working you too hard.”
“Not at all,” I said, giving him a reassuring smile. “I make my own hours and listen to murder podcasts while I work. Best job ever.”
He rocked back on the heels of his work boots and chuckled. “Good. If he gives you any trouble, call me. Okay?”
I nodded and clutched the stack of documents I was holding to my chest. “Are you headed out to camp today? I saw the schedule you emailed.”
“Tomorrow. All this rain has really held us back. The roads are muddy, and as much as I’d like to wait for things to dry up a bit, we’ve got a lot of orders to settle up before.” He kicked at the doorframe. “You know, the sale or whatever. So we’re getting creative.”
“Let me know if I can help.”
According to Owen, operations were continuing, only on a smaller scale with a skeleton crew. After Mr. Hebert was arrested, many of their longtime employees had quit, probably concerned that if they didn’t abandon ship, they’d be taken down with it. Most had ended up working for the Gagnons or the LeBlancs, but a dedicated few had remained.
“Do you have a heavy machinery license?”
“Nah.”
“Can you use a chainsaw?”
“Wanna teach me?” I gestured to all the files around me. “At this point, I’m pretty much a timber expert. Except for the whole cutting down trees part.”
He laughed. “Not today, but I will at some point. It’s a life skill, you know?”
I nodded. Now my interest was piqued. I could see myself rocking a chainsaw. “Promise?”
“Just stick to the accounting for now, okay?”
Long after the sun had set, I was still working, but I was beginning to feel the effects of a long day on my feet. I’d been working nonstop since my shift at the diner started at seven this morning, and I was determined to go for a run when I got home. Hopefully, I’d eke out five or six hours of sleep before doing it all over again tomorrow.
Owen came by the conference room, surveyed the carnage, and wandered to the large bay window that looked out at the forest. He ran his hands through his hair, something, by the looks of it, he’d been doing quite a bit today, and tugged on the collar of his shirt.
With one earbud still in place, I tried my best to focus on my podcast, but when he was this close to me, it was hard to focus on anything but him.
Each day, he looked a little more disheveled. First he’d traded his dress pants for jeans. Then his shirts were no longer tucked in. Now his stubble was flirting with beard territory.
He was looking less city boy and more lumberjack by the day.
And it was a problem.
Because he lookedgood.
I had no interest in dating or relationships at the moment, but I wasn’t dead. Anyone with eyes could appreciate Owen Hebert’s masculine charms. He was handsome, with a hint of ruggedness that was growing by the day. No matter how hard he tried to hide his backwoods lumberjack upbringing with designer suits and fancy cars, the country boy roots remained.
My long-dormant flirting instincts were coming back to life. I found myself smiling at him, playing with my hair mid-conversation, and thinking about him while choosing my outfits. Crushes were supposed to be harmless, but it had been so long since I’d felt even the slightest flutter for a man. I wasn’t even sure how to control myself anymore.
“I have a surprise for you.”
I paused my podcast. “For me?”
He nodded and lifted his chin, gesturing for me to follow him out the door. Obediently, I trailed behind him to the office he’d been using. It wasn’t nearly as grand as his father’s, but from what I’d observed over the last few days, he’d purposely steered clear of that one.
There were two large boxes on the table labeled Thrive Market.
“I promised you snacks.” He took a multi-tool out of hisback pocket—hot—and sliced the top of the box, then slid it toward me.
