Page 18 of Wild Valentine
Guilt gnaws at me. I should be at home with her, not kissing a hot stranger on the mountain. Marcus is watching me, his eyes blazing with promise.
I put the phone on my chest. “I’m going to talk to my mom for a bit.”
He nods, understanding. “Of course.” He kisses me chastely on the forehead. “I might do some work in here. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I leave him in the workshop and walk quickly back to my cabin while Mom tells me about her day.
“Only five days till Valentine’s Day, Hazel. You got a date yet?”
“Mom.” I blush, and even thought she can’t see me, she catches her breath. Mom is as perceptive as I am.
“You’ve met a man!” she squeals into the phone and then starts coughing.
“Mom?”
She tries to laugh it off, and I don’t let her hear how alarmed I am. I’ve got one more day here, then I’m back to New York. Back to Mom and the bills and what the hell to do about the story I can’t write.
I speak to Mom for half an hour before she gets too tired. Then I pull out my laptop and the notes I’ve been making about my trip.
Marcus has made it clear he doesn’t want to do the feature, but he’s too compelling not to write about. No matter where these words end up, I have to get them out of my head and onto the page.
An hour later, I’m stiff from sitting and I’m fighting back tears.
I don’t need to know the details of what happened to him over there. His artwork tells enough. I just hope I’ve done them justice in my description.
I grab a glass of water from the kitchen and notice the light still on in Marcus’s workshop. I’m not the only one who likes to work late into the night.
Still not knowing what I’ll do with the story, I go back to my laptop and write for another hour.
7
MARCUS
Old sycamores tower above us as I lead Hazel along one of my favorite hiking paths. She keeps her eyes upwards and her mouth open, marveling at every new bird she hears, every ancient tree. It's like she's never been out in nature before. It makes me remember how lucky I am to live out here on the side of the mountain.
I let her go ahead of me, setting the pace and giving me the opportunity to admire her curvy ass.
I've been rock hard for this woman since I saw her in a bath towel. Even before that, since she walked into our clubhouse. And after our kiss last night, I positivelyachefor her.
It's been a long time since I've felt like this about anyone. For many years, I shut myself off. That's what happens when someone betrays you. My thoughts flutter to Karmen, my ex from years ago. It’s her betrayal that has kept me a bachelor. But it’s been so long since I thought about her that there’s not even a trace of heartache.
After kissing Hazel last night, I stayed in my workshop until well past midnight working on a new piece. I felt energized and motivated in a different way than usual.
Usually, it's a nightmare or the memories that get me into the workshop, but this was entirely different. And the piece I'm working on reflects that.
“Where do you get your wood from for your work? Is it from here?” Hazel stops and runs her hand over the bark of a tall pine.
I eye her warily, wondering if she’s still trying to get a story out of me. She’s naturally curious, and I hope that’s all it is because I like talking to her. She’s easy to talk to, and I want to share my experiences with her. I want her to know me.
We've been getting to know each other, and my past and my artwork is such a big part of that. I want to tell Hazel my story. Not for some article she's writing, but because I want her to know who I am as a man. And I trust her. When she looks up at me with those round, innocent eyes, how can I not?
“My family runs a sawmill,” I tell her. “That's where I get the wood from. Off cuts that they aren't using.”
Her eyebrows come together in the way they do when she’s thinking.
“Your family runs the Wild Sawmill. Of course,” she mutters to herself. “I've read about the Wild Sawmill. It employs half the people on this side of the mountain. I should have put it together.”
She looks generally annoyed with herself, which makes me smile. My angel doesn’t like to miss anything.
