Page 24 of Lumberjack John
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he urged, stepping closer and cupping her cheek, his thumb lightly grazing her skin. "What's this all about?"
Her mouth opened and closed several times before she could speak. "It's just that I'm leaving soon." She looked down and bit her plump lower lip. "But I really wish we had more time together." Her intense gaze shot back to him. "I've never met anyone like you. I've never felt like this before." Her voice trailed off into a whisper as if she was afraid of his reaction.
His heart pounded in his chest at her words. The odds that she'd feel the same as him—he hadn't dared to dream. John tilted her head up as his mouth slammed over hers, hungrily demanding a response as his tongue dove deep. She whimpered as she surged against his body, her hands clawing his back.
After several minutes, John felt a weight press on his leg and remembered what he needed to do. He broke away, panting, and glanced down at Angus who stared at him with adoring eyes. With a soft chuckle, he released his grip on Frankie, but gave her one last peck on the lips. "We'll continue this discussion when I get back. Call your boss." He turned with Angus on his heels and walked out the door.
***
Frankie stood at the window for a moment, hand to her lips, staring at the spot where John and Angus had disappeared into the woods. She could hear the rapid beat of her heart in her ears, in shock at the words she'd shared with him. She squeezed her eyes shut, groaning.
Way to go, Frankie. He must think you're a right nutjob now.
She peeked at the spot again—no sign of John or Angus—and flattened her lips into a firm line. It didn't matter if he thought she was a lunatic or if he knew she was in love with him. She was leaving in a few days and that was that.
Her heart in her stomach, she pried off her shoes and began to remove as many layers as possible before she made the call. With a dramatic sigh, she grabbed her tablet, plopped into the large armchair, and pushed the video chat button.
"It's about time you checked in," Sharon piped up, then she froze on the screen, her mouth parted as if she were about to let loose another zinger. "What happened to you? You look like you wrestled a bear." She squinted, her face moving closer to the screen. "And why are your lips so puffy? Frankie, what have you been doing?"
"Well, if you would let me get a word in edgewise, I'll tell you." Frankie scoffed softly and wiped at the streaks of mud on her cheeks.
Sharon's lips primed and she settled back in her chair, one hand holding a glass of wine. "I'm listening."
"I helped John tap Maple trees for syrup today. We finished forty acres, and it was exhilarating. Exhausting, but exhilarating."
One eyebrow arched over her eagle eye. "John!? As istheMr. John Robbins?" Her head tilted, and a glint sparked in her eyes. "Where are you? That does not look like your room at the inn."
"Uhhh…"
Dammit!
She’d known Sharon would catch that and had been so frazzled by John's kiss that she hadn't created a solid answer. "It's the main room of the inn. I thought it would be better to call you from here, let you see the scenery a bit."
Frankie froze as the door opened behind her. Angus rushed in with an enthusiastic woof.
Sharon abruptly sat up straight, wine sloshing, her eyes bulged and her jaw dropped. Then a miracle happened: Sharon lost the ability to speak for a brief moment.
"Bloody fucking hell!" she exclaimed softly. "Who is that magnificent stud standing right behind you? My god, I think his shoulders are over a meter wide. And that beard… Mmmm. That thing could give a proper thigh burn."
Jesus, Sharon.
"It's no one." Frankie cursed under her breath, praying John hadn’t heard Sharon’s salty comments. She closed her eyes in resignment as John leaned in, his head next to hers. This was rapidly turning into a full-blown disaster.
"Hi there. You must be Sharon," he said cheerfully. "I've heard a lot about you."
"Well, that makes one of us," Sharon muttered as she peered into the screen. "And who are you?"
Frankie side-eyed him as he spoke. "The name's John Robbins." He gave her a two-finger salute. "Nice to meet you."
Sharon preened as she fiddled with her necklace. "If I had known the men were this stunning in Wisconsin, I would have arm wrestled Frankie for this trip."
"You don't arm wrestle, Sharon." Frankie rolled her eyes. "And you couldn't make this trip, remember. Your son? Your wanker ex from hell?"
"What tosh! I’ve had a miraculous surge of energy since that gorgeous drink of water showed up on your screen, and I’m practically a new woman now. I could take on anything." Herhead shifted the other side and then she scowled. "Wait a minute." She pointed a finger at Frankie. "You are not at the inn." She enunciated every word.
Frankie cringed. This was bad. Sharon was putting the pieces together in record time.
"Are you at his cabin? The one you were determined to find a few days ago?"
