Page 8 of Her Obsessed Lumberjack

My mind is racingas I leave Mountain Brew and climb into my truck, setting my pie and coffee on the dash. I spent the entire morning thinking about Freya, wondering how it would feel to see her again. The reality was more intense than I could have imagined. My chest is pounding like I just ran a damn marathon, and I absent-mindedly reach for the coffee cup, my fingers brushing the places where Freya touched it. I picture her soft hands, her dancing brown eyes, that pretty smile that comes so easily to her.

Fuck, she’s perfect.

I was so sure she was taken. So certain that somewhere out there, the luckiest man in the world wore the other half of that heart around his neck. Knowing she’s single shouldn’t change anything. She’s still too young for me…yet somehow, it feels like everything has changed. My heart feels lighter, my skin buzzing with anticipation.

This curvy angel could be mine.

I could make her mine.

Sure, the thought is about as realistic as me winning a beauty contest. A pretty young thing like Freya deserves better than a broken old grump like me, but that doesn’t stop hopefromblooming in my gut. It’s not a feeling I’m used to, and it makes me feel like I could float right out of my truck and into the sky.

My gaze flickers to Mountain Brew. The window is stuffed full of so many Halloween decorations that I can barely see a thing, but after a few minutes of watching, I see a shadowy figure through the glass. Freya’s curves are instantly recognizable. I stare at her, my throat turning drier than fall leaves, before she disappears behind the counter and out of my range of vision. I could sit here all day just to get another tiny glimpse of her. It’s crazy how obsessed I’m acting, but dammit, this girl is everything I never knew I wanted.

My phone rings. I frown at it, resenting the distraction until I see Chloe’s name pop up. Immediately, I answer the call.

“Hey, Coco.”

“Hi, Dad! Want to come over for lunch? Trace is busy chopping wood, so it will be just the two of us.”

My daughter has been inviting me over for meals a lot lately. It’s more evidence that she’s worried about me, and I hate knowing I’ve made her feel that way. As much as I want to stay put and watch Freya from my truck, I can’t blow off lunch with my daughter to act like a creep.

“Sure. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Great! See you then.”

We end the call and I turn on the engine, gripping the steering wheel tight. Driving away from Freya feels wrong. It’s almost like there’s an invisible rope tying us together, and the farther apart I am from her, the tauter it gets, straining painfully around me. It makes no sense to feel this strongly about a girl I barely know. Hell, I’ve never felt this strongly about anybody, let alone a stranger. But as I leave Main Street and head toward the forest, I can feel the rope squeezing my heart like a vise.

“That’s beautiful, honey,”I say, admiring my daughter’s latest painting which hangs on the wall behind her.

“Thanks.” She grins at me over her chili. “I’m going to try to sell this one.”

I nod, admiring her delicate brushstrokes. It’s a landscape painting of Cherry Hollow in the fall, the forests burning with color and the mountains looming in the distance. In the bottom corner I can just make out the corn maze, and instantly Freya’s pretty face fills my head.

The drive to Chloe and Trace’s cabin felt like forever, and now that I’m here, my mind is still back at Mountain Brew. My daughter has been my primary focus ever since I adopted her, and I’ve never had anything to distract me from her before. Not even my job got between us. But right now, Freya is all I can think about, and I mentally scold myself for acting like such a crappy dad.

“Of course someone will buy it,” I tell her earnestly. “It’s one of your best works yet. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad.” She smiles, but it wavers slightly as she looks at me. “Are you okay? You seem a little…distracted.”

Concern flickers in her eyes. I’m distracted as hell, but not for the reasons she thinks. It’s not flashbacks or bad memories making my brain run wild this time.

I can’t ignore these feelings.

It’s like trying to ignore a volcano eruption in my chest.

There are a million reasons why I should forget about Freya and move on with my life, but I can’t do it. I need to see her again. I need to do what I should have done the moment I set eyes on her and ask her out. She’ll almost certainly say no, butI have to try. I can’t let this woman slip through my fingers, not when my whole body is aching to be near her again.

“You’re right,” I say throatily, standing up from the table. “I am distracted. Sorry, Coco, but there’s something I need to do. I’ll be back soon.”

My daughter raises her eyebrows. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s great.” I give her a reassuring smile. “Save me some chili.”

I lean down to kiss the top of her head and hurry to my truck. It feels like there’s a force controlling my body, pushing me forward as I speed through the forest and back toward Cherry Hollow. My brakes squeal as I pull up outside Mountain Brew, not giving myself time to overthink my decision as I jump out of the truck and march inside.

The coffee shop is emptier than it was before, and I instantly spot Freya behind the counter, my eyes drawn to her like a moth to a flame. The world seems to dissolve around her until she’s the only thing in focus, and I don’t take my eyes off her as I stride toward the counter. She looks so fucking adorable, her dark purple hair tied in a messy bun, her white teeth nibbling the flesh of her lip as she busies herself with arranging pies on the counter. As I approach, she looks up with a well-practiced smile, ready to greet a new customer. When she sees who it is, her pretty pink lips fall open slightly, eyes widening in surprise.

“Hi.” The single syllable comes out hoarse and scratchy.

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