Page 6 of Lumberjack John
John's deep chuckle rumbled through the room. "I'll leave the choice to you." He stood and pointed toward a large cabinet near the bath. "The towels and soap are in there." His finger drifted toward a stool that held a stack of folded clothes. "You can find something warm to wear in that pile when you're done. Nothing will fit, but it'll do until we can get your clothes clean and dried."
He stepped away and started to pull the door closed. "Yell out if you need me. I'll just be down the hall."
"Thank you," she replied absently as he left. Her gaze was focused solely on the tub and she wanted nothing more than to sink neck deep into the decadent warm water. Her bladder, however, pulled the trump card, and she waddled over to the toilet. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she groaned softly as the pressure released.
With a sigh, she stumbled gracelessly toward the tub and stripped her wet, miserable clothes off with awkward, jerky motions. Her arms shook as she held onto the side and dipped her foot in. She moaned loudly as she haltingly raised her other leg and settled slowly into the water, feeling as if she'd submerged into heaven itself. As John had promised, the waterwasn't too hot, but just the right temperature for her numbed flesh and she warmed up quickly.
After several minutes of just soaking, she lathered every part of her body then rinsed off and stepped out carefully. She smiled again at the heat coming from the floor.
This was something she could easily get used to. After a miserable, freezing four hours, it was as if she was wrapped in a cocoon of blissful warmth. It was such an amazing turnaround.
Frankie toweled off and combed her hair out as best she could, then inspected the clothes John had set aside for her. She lifted one pair after another of cozy sweatpants that she knew she'd practically swim in. There were also several flannel button down shirts that she could probably wear as dresses. But the best was the pair of thick, woolen socks that traveled all the way to her knees. Definitely too big for her, but they were bliss.
With a contented sigh, she pulled on a pair of sweatpants, rolling up the legs several inches. It was the best she could do, and there was no way she could cinch up the waist. She slipped on a shirt, cuffing the sleeves to her hands.
A big guy, this John Robbins.
Although she hadn't gotten more than a glimpse of his chiseled face under that rain hood, it was impossible to hide that he was an attractive man. But then again, what man wouldn't be when they were built like a mountain at well over six feet tall, with shoulders nearly as wide. She had clearly been off on her earlier assertion that Mr. Robbins would be a gouty hunchback.
Frankie grinned. Aside from the car accident and nearly freezing to death, Sharon would be ecstatic if she knew.
Chapter 3
Feeling much more like herself, she wandered down the short hallway, following the soft sound of light jazz and delicious smells coming from the kitchen.
She paused at the edge of the main room, taking in the homey setting. Her first impression had, if anything, been an understatement. The large open space made the room seem palatial to her British sensibilities, yet the furniture was oversized, lending the room a comfortable air. It was utterly cozy with flames crackling in the fireplace and the firelight dancing along the walls. If she had to describe her dream home, this would be it.
The soft woof that greeted her appearance brought a smile to her face. Angus lounged on his bed in the corner, a gnarled antler between his feet as he watched her entry.
"Are you hungry?"
Frankie's gaze swung toward the source of the deep resonant voice and she froze, blinking at the bolt of searing heat that shot through her. John stood at the stove, stirring whatever amazing concoction was cooking there, his back to her. Even withoutseeing his face, she was fiercely drawn to him, the sinewy lines of his torso and bulging muscles of his shoulders perfectly outlined by a soft-looking henley.
"Yes, I'm famished," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.
With a bob of his head, he reached inside a cabinet and grabbed two bowls, filling them quickly and depositing them on the nearby table. "This is chili. I hope you like it." He pulled a muffin pan from the oven and quickly emptied its contents onto a clean plate and then snagged a tub of butter from the refrigerator.
Finally, he turned toward her, a broad smile on his face—his brutally handsome face—and Frankie bit back a gasp. For a moment, she thought she might be hallucinating and swiped a hand over her mouth, afraid she was drooling all over herself with the way her mouth hung open.
She stared, taking in the mahogany brown hair buzzed short on the sides with longer, slightly disheveled curls on top. It framed his bearded, square jaw nicely. Her fingers practically begged to thread through those luscious locks. And those shoulders… theywereas wide and as thickly muscled as she'd imagined, allowing his frame to narrow nicely into that vee shape so many male models tortured themselves to achieve.
My god. This must be what it's like to gaze directly into the face of The David.
Oh, Sharon would be apoplectic if she were here right now. Or more likely in the process of ripping the clothes from her body and begging him to ravish her.
"Are you okay?" he asked finally, and Frankie started, snapping out of her daze. A warm rush moved up her neck as she realized she'd been openly ogling the man, quite rudely so.
Clearing her throat, Frankie nodded. "Yes. Yes, I'm sorry. I am feeling much better. Today has just been a bit much. Thankyou for everything you've done for me tonight. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't shown up when you did," she babbled. "Probably something stupid like stumbling around, looking for shelter, and then freezing to death."
Oh, shut up, you idiot. He's certain to believe you're a right bloody moron at this point.
The corner of his mouth drifted up, exposing a deep groove in his cheek, and his gorgeous cobalt blue eyes twinkled.
Seriously, this man just keeps getting more stunning by the second.
"Oh, hold on," he muttered. "I forgot utensils." He turned toward the kitchen counter. "What would you like to drink? I have beer, water, and milk."
"Water, please," she called out, grateful that awkward moment was over. It was just her luck that the man she had been searching for, researching, and practically digitally stalking for a year, was also unbelievably gorgeous. She had found very little of him online, just brief mentions and not a single picture, which was probably a good thing. One look at those long eyelashes and deep sapphire eyes, and she would have been obsessed. Or Sharon would have made the trip herself.
