Page 48 of Pain in the Axe
“Timberlands, size fourteen? Steel toes for summer?”
I nodded. In my line of work, I went through work boots pretty fast. I could always use a new pair.
“I’ll take ’em. But, uh…” I rubbed at the back of my head, remembering too late that Becca had styled my hair. “Do you have anything dressier?”
Mr. Wilson gave me a confused frown. “Dressy shoes? I got boots, son.”
What a dumb question. I wasn’t a fancy shoe guy anyway.
With a tap of his chin, he hummed thoughtfully. “Actually. We’ve got some dark brown leather boots in the back. Good quality. Probably not good for the woods.”
Without waiting for a response, he took off, and a few minutes later, he came back with a large Timberland box and proudly displayed a chocolate brown boot.
They were nicer than a regular boot but still looked sturdy. Chloe cared a lot about shoes. I needed to impress her. “Excellent. Dress Tims.”
“I’m not sure there’s such a thing,” he said, his tone dubious.
“Now there is.” I took the box and my stack of clothes to the register.
I walked out, having spent the equivalent of a mortgage payment on new duds, but confident I’d be putting my best foot forward with Chloe. She was beautiful and fashionable, so I had to step it up.
There was one more, critically important, step in the plan. I sat in my truck, staring at my phone. I knew what had to be done, so with a shaky hand, I dialed Dr. Savard. It was time to get some tests done.
As I drove home, I found myself drumming my fingers on the steering wheel to a Zach Bryan song. Last night had been full of the kind of magic that didn’t come along too often. The banter, her electric touch, and the way she curled into me and slept. I’d never known the kind of contentment I felt with her asleep in my arms even existed. And I’d do damn near anything to make it permanent.
This was fate. I’d been alive long enough to know that second chances were rare. And I’d be taking advantage of mine.
I’d been miserable for too long. But I could see now why I’d been stuck. I’d been waiting for Chloe. Desperate to find the missing piece of my life that she’d taken with her when she left.
I wasn’t twenty anymore. I wasn’t wasting any more time trying to impress my dad or hers.
I was a grown man. I had my priorities and my values.
And I knew what I wanted.
Chloe.
Chapter 13
Chloe
“That’s not what we agreed to,” I shouted into the phone.
Jessica, my legal counsel, was relaying the latest from those FBI assholes and was seething too. They had no intention of stopping the constant surveillance. How was I supposed to get this business operational when I had to waste so much precious time babysitting the feds?
“We’re pushing back,” Jessica assured me. She cost a grand an hour, but she was the best in her field. “I can block and tackle like the Patriots’ defensive line. You focus on the trees; I’ll deal with law enforcement.”
I trusted her, but at barely nine a.m., I had already reached my limit for the day. Heavy rains had washed out part of a road, the sawmill wanted to renegotiate pricing, and I hadn’t slept in the last two days.
Sleep had been elusive since the night that will not be spoken of with Gus.
Who knew using a growly lumberjack as a duvet could lead to such a great night’s sleep?
At least my makeup was on point. I’d been up so early this morning, surveying the lake, that I’d gone all out and put as much armor on as I could.
According to the meticulous color-coded schedule Karl kept, Gus was due out in camp four today to assess the needed road repairs and to take measurements. Good, maybe he’d spend the week out in the forest and give me some time to myself. Or maybe a tree would fall on him and he’d get amnesia. Then I could just pretend the other night never happened.
There was so much to process. And JJ and Karl were constantly exchanging looks around me. They’d witnessed my drive of shame home after my night with Gus. Thankfully, they had a healthy fear of my moods and would not ask.
