Page 7 of Lumberjack John
"Here we go." John handed her a spoon and a butter knife, then placed a glass of water near her bowl.
When she just stared at the bowl, mortified at the track of her thoughts, he asked, "You've been through a lot today. You don't have to eat if you're not hungry." His tone was gentle, so opposite of his supremely masculine, physical appearance.
"Oh, no." She met his gaze with a smile. "I'm practically ravenous." She huffed a light laugh. "My brain doesn't seem to be working properly at the moment."
John grunted and took a big bite of chili. "That's the hypothermia tapering off. I'd guess I arrived just in time."
An inelegant snort escaped her lips. "You most certainly did, and for that, I'll be eternally grateful." She lifted her spoon and tasted the chili, humming at the savory flavor explosion. "Oh, this is delicious."
"Thanks. It's my grandfather's recipe. Been stewing all day."
"Mmmmmm… Is this beef?" she asked, taking another bite.
“Bison. I source my meat from a local ranch.”
"I've never had Bison before," she murmured. "It's incredible."
He reached for a muffin and slathered it with butter, then crumbled it in his chili. "You should try it with the cornbread," he encouraged. "The flavor combination is fantastic."
"I don't know that you could top this, but if you insist." Frankie cut a delicate muffin in half and spread a thin layer of butter before taking a nibble. "Oh my! You're right."
Then followed his example and added it to her chili. She closed her eyes and groaned in delight as the flavors burst on her tongue. "I'll be honest. This is not how I expected my evening to go," she commented as she licked her spoon clean.
When he didn’t respond, she glanced up and the tight expression on his face made the breath leave her chest. His hot eyes were zeroed in on her mouth and after a moment, he blinked and it was gone.
John huffed a rueful laugh. "Me either." He lifted his beer glass. "But here's to meeting new friends, even if it's in the middle of an early winter storm."
"Cheers!" Frankie tapped her glass with his.
They ate quietly for several minutes. Frankie’s shoulders relaxed and her frazzled nerves smoothed out as she enjoyed the companionable silence and tried to forget the melting look on his face that had sent pleasurable tingles up and down her spine.
"Stanley said you were looking for me."
The comment came out of the ether and Frankie blinked as her brain processed his words. She took a sip of water and blotted her mouth with the napkin.
"By Stanley, I assume you mean Ranger Brooks?" At his nod, she continued. "That's correct. I'm from the British Arborist Society and we've just received a substantial grant that will help considerably with our reforestation and rewilding efforts in the UK."
John's mouth slanted to the side. "I'm not making the connection of what that has to do with me."
Frankie took a deep breath, anticipating his reticence. "Well, Mr. Robbins, there is—"
"John."
"I beg your pardon?" Frankie asked, thrown off by his interruption.
"Call me John," he clarified.
"Or how about Lumberjack John, if I recall the name Ranger Brooks gave me correctly?" she teased, giving him a mischievous grin.
His bark of laughter was her only response. He leaned back in his chair, his sprawled masculinity dominating the space as he rubbed a large hand over his chest. "That nickname was given to me. I didn’t choose it."
"Well, it’s an impressive moniker," she emphasized. "Anyway, John, there are many ways you can help. Your record on conservation and the reforestation of northern Wisconsin is remarkable, as well as the diversification of natural resources. I believe—we believe—there is a lot you can teach us."
He stared at her for a long, painful moment, making her squirm in her chair. "I come from a long line of conservationists," he started. Frankie nodded, already knowing what he was about to tell her. "My great, great, great grandfather bought this land in the 1870s after a wildfire destroyedeverything that was left from decades of logging. This land was a disaster, and it's taken consistent efforts through each generation to bring it back to what it was before."
"Yes, I am aware. And while we're not necessarily dealing with a total environmental disaster, I do believe you can help us create a plan to improve our success."
"My point is, Ms. Evans—"
