Page 30 of Honeymoon Phase
Either way, this is my decision and I will not let hot, brooding, bossy Luke change my course of action. In fact, now I’m even more determined to find a lumberjack who doesn’t have the last name of Fletcher. All the Fletcher brothers seem a bit unhinged today. I swear I saw Calder trip one of the contestants earlier. Like... on purpose, stuck his foot out and tripped the guy, then pointed to a little girl standing on the other side like she was the one to do it.
There must be something in the air up on Fletcher Mountain and I’m going to stay far the hell away from it.
“So what were you saying earlier about your dad’s lumber supply business?” Ivan asks, appearing out of nowhere beside me, and I smile and turn around to talk to him while the first contestant prepares to run across the row of floating logs.
“Oh, just that he’s retiring from the business and looking to sell or pass along to me.”
Ivan sniffs loudly as he looks down at me. “You’d take over the whole building center? How would you manage that?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean... surely you wouldn’t talk directly to the mills and stuff. You have a guy on staff for that I assume.”
“Yeah. Me.”
“Right,” Ivan replies with a laugh to which I stare back at him, not joining in. He frowns. “Like you negotiate the rates and buys and everything?”
“Yes... why are you saying it like that’s a big deal? You knew I worked for my dad.”
“I thought you were the receptionist. Or maybe did the bookwork for the company. Payables, receivables, that kind of stuff.”
“Why did you figure that?” I ask, staring up at him and wondering what the hell we talked about when I hooked up with him four years ago. Obviously we didn’t talk enough.
“I’ve just never met a woman who knows the difference between pine and oak, let alone one that talks to the sawmills directly.”
“Then you don’t know Roe at all,” Luke’s voice interjects from behind and I turn around to see him standing a foot away from me with a murderous look in his eyes. “Monroe Lumber would be nothing without her and that was true even before her dad retired.”
His words fill my heart with something really intense and I almost smile. Almost.
The thing that stops me from smiling at my best friend is the fact that Luke’s hands have somehow snaked around my waist in a weird, claiming sort of way as he shoots daggers at Ivan.
“What are you doing?” I hiss through clenched teeth as I fight the surging desire that’s coursing through my body at his very intimate and foreign touch.
“Just coming over for a good luck kiss,” Luke says loudly, looking directly at Ivan.
“A what?” I ask, not following what’s going on, so I turn around in Luke’s arms, my eyes flying wide when his big pawsslide dangerously low on my back. I grip the chest of his tank top, balling the fabric in my fists. “What the fuck are you doing, Fletcher?”
A slow, dopey smile spreads across his face as he looks down at me. “You heard me, snookums.”
Snookums?
Now he’s gone too far.
“We’ll be right back,” I state through clenched teeth to Ivan as I grab Luke by the shirt and drag him behind me. We make our way over to the long row of porta-potties and I do my best to ignore the rancid smell as I give my friend here a hard shove in the chest. “What the fuck is going on?” I ask as soon as we’re concealed from the crowd.
“That guy is a creep, Roe,” he says, pointing his finger back to the place we just vacated. His exposed arms reveal a serious farmer’s tan and I have to stop myself from admiring Luke’s corded arm muscles.
“He’s perfectly fine,” I balk and prop my hands on my hips.
“Everything he just said to you was misogynistic bullshit.”
“So what.” I shrug and feel my body tensing up. “I hear that shit all the time.”
“Not from me,” Luke replies, his eyes intense, and I swallow the knot in my throat because I know he’s right.
From day one I never got a single sexist vibe from Luke. Or any of the Fletcher brothers for that matter. And the fact that Luke asked me out for drinks and didn’t try to sleep with me proves that point even further. He’s one of the good ones.Normally.
“Luckily, I don’t need Ivan to be perfect for a one-week-a-month marriage,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest. “I just need him to sign a little contract and go live his life as usual.”
