Jesus.
I lie here catching my breath, staring at the ceiling beams of my home, feeling like a teenager who just jerked off to his teacher.
Except Claire’s not my teacher. She’s the woman I’m going to chase until she stops pretending she doesn’t want to be caught.
Chapter 3
Hunter
Several weeks pass when Luke shows up at my house with fast food, a six-pack, and bad news.
I’m fifteen miles from town, surrounded by a forest. The nearest neighbor is two miles down a dirt road. Just me, the trees, and the kind of quiet that most people can’t handle for more than an hour.
I hear his truck grinding up the gravel drive before I see it, that diesel rattle I know well. The man’s a damn millionaire, but you’d never guess it from his rattletrap of a truck. We’ve worked on it together more times than I can count.
Dust plumes behind him as he parks next to my F-250, the sun dropping behind the ridge, turning the whole valley shades of amber and purple.
I answer the door in work jeans and a thermal, barefoot on stone floors I installed myself three years ago. The house smells like the cedar trees I’ve been sanding one-handed for the past week, just to keep from going stir-crazy. I’m not built for sitting still.
“You’re healing good.” He eyes my arm as I swing the door open wide.
“Kapoor says I’m ahead of schedule.”
Which is good, but I’ve lost muscle mass from all these weeks off the job. My shirts fit looser across the shoulders, and it pisses me off. I’m used to hauling logs and swinging axes ten hours a day. Used to my body doing exactly what I tell it to. One-armed push-ups only get you so far.
“Great news.”
We head to the back porch of my house, an old stone home built in the 1930s. Over the years, I’ve renovated the inside and changed out the roof, but the multi-colored stone exterior is original. It sits on a few acres of land at the edge of the town’s limits on the way to the lumber mill. Being between town and my place of employment was ideal when I moved back here after my wife died.
Feeling a little lost, Luke gave me a job and a purpose. And at the age of twenty-four, I needed both. It’s been ten years, and he’s one of my closest friends. Solid as they come. He raised his nephews after his brother died, so he knows about deep grief as a twenty-something.
“Thanks for the food.” I plunk a french fry into some spicy ketchup, the air humid and still.
“If I know you, there’s a pot of chili that you’ve been eating on for two days sitting inside your fridge.”
I give a slow head nod, suppressing a smile.
“How’s the mill?”
Luke takes a long pull of his beer. “We need you back, but your ass is staying home until I’m confident you’re good.” He sets the brown bottle onto the wood table.
“I’m probably being released to light duty on Monday.” I don’t do well sitting around.
“You step one foot onto mill property, and I will fire your ass so fast your head will spin.”
“I’m on the Board.”
“Doesn’t matter. ” He leans back in the chair, hands clasped behind his head like he lives here. “You aren’t doing anything to compromise that arm.”
“Your nephews will side with me, asshole.”
“Their girlfriends will side with me.” We both laugh, knowing that’s a fact.
Luke feels bad about my arm even though we both know chainsaw slips are a risk of the job. But it happened athiscompany onhisproperty. He dropped way too much money into my bank account to cover medical costs plus my salary for a year without me even asking, which is how he operates. He takes care of his people first. That’s why people come work at Wilder Industries and rarely leave.
“We’re bringing on a safety consultant. New OSHA regulations mean we need someone dedicated to protocols, training, the whole nine yards.”
“Makes sense after my screw-up.” It doesn’t really, but what else can I say?
