Page 15 of Her Grumpy Lumberjack

I take the hammer from him.

“You don’t have to help,” Chase says. “You worked really damn hard yesterday—you can rest if you want.”

I wave off his suggestion. “Of course I’m helping! This is my mess. I should be offering you a rest day, not the other way around.”

“You sure?”

I tilt my chin up defiantly. “I’m sure.”

He smirks. “Okay then, city girl. Let’s get to work.”

We work our butts off all day. I finish cutting and laying the floorboards at ground level while Chase reinforces the walls. We work together in the attic. Chase adds supports so the ceiling won’t give way again, and we tear up the rotten wood, replacing it with honey-colored boards the same color as Chase’s cabin.

“You’re lucky,” he says as he helps me position another floorboard. “This place has good bones. All the joists and beams are rock solid—it’s just the boards that are rotten.”

He’s on his knees beside me, so close I can feel the warmth radiating off his body. He’s barely broken a sweat all day, while I’m drenched and panting.

“You want to take a break?” he asks for the thousandth time as I nail the board down.

“Nope. I got this.”

Chase looks at me, his eyes warm. “I know you do. You’re crushing it, Sienna. It’s impressive as hell.”

I beam at his praise, but the distraction makes me swing the hammer down a little too close to my finger, catching the tip. I let out a hiss of breath.

“Shit,” Chase mutters. “Let me look at that.”

He gently grabs my hand, raising my finger up to his face.

“It’s okay, I only caught it a little.”

My skin tingles as Chase inspects my finger. His hands are rough and calloused, but his touch is gentle as he cups my hand like it’s a baby bird.

“I’ll go get some ice,” he says, frowning with concern.

“No, I’m okay. Honestly, it barely touched my finger.”

He’s still holding my hand. We’re so close our sides are touching—the two of us kneeling on the floor up in this abandoned attic, miles away from anybody. If I were braver, I’d kiss him. God knows I want to. But I’m too scared of rejection. If I kissed him and he pulled away from me, I don’t think I could take it.

“Let’s call it a day,” I say as Chase releases my finger. “It’s getting dark.”

He grunts his assent and straightens up before helping me to my feet.

The forest is quiet and shadowy as we step out of my cabin and head back to Chase’s. The air between us is charged, crackling with tension as we reach his front porch. It was only the slightest touch, but my hand is still burning from where he held it. Even my skin is craving this man.

It’s a balmy evening, so Chase makes skewered kebabs and we cook them outside over the open firepit, sitting together on a large picnic blanket. We talk about the cabin and all the repairs left to do, but all I can think about is how much I want to kiss this big grumpy lumberjack. The tension builds all through dinner, growing palpable with every look, every silence.

“You ever been camping, city girl?” Chase asks once we’ve finished our kebabs.

The sky is darkening fast, the jumping firelight illuminating his handsome face.

“No, never.” I shrug. “Can’t exactly go camping in Denver.”

He nods, like this was the answer he expected. “Wait there.”

I watch as he heads into his cabin and comes out a few moments later holding several packets. When he sits down, I see what they are: marshmallows, graham crackers, and a giant slab of Hershey’s.

“S’mores,” he says, his eyes twinkling when he sees the smile on my face.

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