It was a promise she asked me to make while she was sick. A dream she had always wanted to fulfill herself. We spent her last months mapping out all the places she dreamt of seeing. It was a bittersweet trip, making all those stops alone, scattering a little of her ashes in the places she dreamt of.
Once I finished the trip, I did not know what to do with myself. Without her, without that driving spirit to visit those special places for her, I felt lost. Mom was with me on the trip, but once I got home, I was on my own.
“Come here, Scout,” Brielle had urged just a few weeks ago. We had gone to the same boarding school and though I was not from the old money she and the others were, I had always been good enough, just as I was. “It is so beautiful here and we’re going to open a coffee and tea shop!”
It was the first time I had heard Brielle so excited about something that was not protesting something or trying to save something else. It was good to hear that the girls had settled down, and it intrigued me that one place had tamed all my wild friends. Coming here was a no-brainer, I had to see what the place was like.
It took just one night to convince me I never wanted to leave.
“There you go,” Tre nods her head at a group of dirty, sweaty, beautiful men as they saunter through the doors. “Handle those guys. Those roughnecks are the worst that we get here at Rusty Nail.”
Two days into tending bar at The Rusty Nail, I have seen plenty of the townspeople. Mack Felle and his wife Mollie have come in, mooning about their new baby boy. Ridge Decker and his wife Rosa have been through, inviting me to one of their barbecues. I, of course, have been to visit Quinn and Brielle at the new coffee and tea shop they’re excited about.
I’ve been here just a few weeks, but this place feels like home. Nodding at the group of men crowding their huge bodies through the doors of the bar, I smile. The loggers seem to keep the town going. They shop at the stores, they eat at the few little restaurants, drink here at the bar, and give back to the small town as often as they can. They also tip very well, so she doesn’t need to tell me twice to go handle them.
“Oh, she’s cute,” one man calls with a wicked grin. “What’s your name, honey?”
“If you think I am shouting my name across a bar at a strange man who looks as if he needs a good cleaning, you got me wrong, fella,” I call back as I grab my pad and pen to go grab their orders.
Heading over as they sit down, I go through the drink specials in my head. Try to remember all the food items on today’s menu. As I approach, it all flies out of my head. I saw these gigantic men coming in, yet I had not taken a good look. Now, I do, and I can barely breathe when my eyes lock with the man in charge, his golden eyes locking on mine.
Even with a sweaty brow and tousled dark hair, he is the most handsome man I think I have ever seen. He gazes at me as if I am the only other person here. His perfect, plump mouth curves in a slow smile, making my knees get weak. I never have much of a reaction to men. I love men, but Ialsolove women, so most of my life I have favored being with a woman.
“Sorry about that, darling. I am harmless, I promise,” the loudmouth implores as he grins up.
“Oh, I wasnotworried.” I quip, thankful he is saving me from making a fool of myself in front of his beautiful boss. “I can handle myself, darling. How about you two? What can I do for you?”
Those amber eyes gaze at me for a moment. There is an intense moment as we just stare at one another while the others look on. Damn, he is a good-looking man. Sharp jaw, perfect nose, those pretty lips that I want to kiss. His immense body almost does not fit in the booth they chose, but part of me wants to settle myself on his lap, anyway.
Somehow, I take their order, but as I rush back to put it in, I cannot remember half of it. My hands shake as I tap in the things I remember, hoping I get it all right. I might have played it cool out there with them, but I am anything but cool. Touching my heated cheeks, my stomach twisting as I dart another glance at the hot lumberjack.
“It seems unfair,” Tre tells me as she props her elbow casually on my shoulder. “How pretty all those roughnecks seem to be. Each one hotter than the last. Too bad I am spoken for. I might try whittling some wood,” she teases, shoving me playfully as she nods at the table of men.
Well, she is not wrong. I have seen half a dozen lumberjacks come in here and they all could go on a Men of the Mountain monthly calendar. I fan myself playfully, even though I am sweating because of how hot that big, brooding one is. Feeling brazen, I turn to Tre, asking her to tell me all she knows about him.
“Sebastian. A bit of a loner. Leads the new landing on the mountain since last spring. Those others might be a bit wild, not him. He is what my mother called ‘a keeper’ if you ask me. Kind, patient, he never gets rowdy here. Might get rowdy somewhere else,” she teases, pushing me again.
“Sebastian,” I whisper his name as I watch him sip his sweet tea.
“That’s the one,” Tre murmurs before she turns back to the bar to take care of some regulars.
Taking care of another table, I cannot take my focus off the table of lumberjacks. I top off drinks, refill anything I can, and find an excuse to linger long enough to chat. I put my hand on Sebastian’s shoulder once, just as I would any other person I am chatting with. Only I might as well have plugged myself into a live socket for how the touch shocks me.
Gripping his shoulder, I wonder if he can feel it, too. I hope he can. His light eyes flicker up to mine and he almost nods. As if to tell me that yes, he can feel it too. I can’t imagine how stupid of a smile I give him before I turn and rush back to the bar, still shaken by the moment.
Never have I felt that before. Not with any other manorwoman. I’ve had a lot of moments with both men and women before. Never has it felt so... intense. My hand still tingles from setting it on his muscled shoulder. I wonder how it would be if he touched me. Would it be that electric?
“Need some help with those boys?” Tre asks as she fills a beer for someone, shouting at them playfully to be patient.
“No. No, I think I got it handled. A few pretty boys won’t rattle me.”
That is a lie. Just one pretty boy rattled me. Going through life without strings, without ties to anyone or anywhere has not afforded me much romance experience. I date who I like, who I want to spend time with, who I want to talk to, who I want to touch or to touch me. It is that simple for me.
Well, it was that simple for me. I am a bit of a flirt, for me it is fun to tease someone a little. I would not call myself a tease. I also do not flitter from one person to another. I just have never found that stirring, knotting feeling inside of me when I met someone. Until about ten minutes ago, when I was foolish enough to touch that hot-as-hell lumberjack.
Shaking out my hand that still tingles, I almost laugh. I am going nuts. Out of my head. That was not a transfer of feelings or even attraction. It was from my sneakers dragging on the carpets or his built-up electricity. Nothing more and nothing less. Giving myself another shake, I try to let it go.
“Don’t look now, but guess who won’t take his eyes off you?”
