Page 13 of Her Obsessed Lumberjack

“You’re doing great.”

I hold back a chuckle when she accidentally dumps double the amount of cinnamon we need into the mixture, and I reach around her to scoop it out, my heart thudding as my frontbrushes the warmth of her back. If she moves even an inch, she’ll feel the raging hard on that’s straining against my boxers.

“Sorry!” she says for the hundredth time once I’m finished scooping out as much cinnamon as possible. “I’m a walking baking disaster.” There’s still a trace of cinnamon swirling in the air, and Freya turns away to sneeze before looking back at me with a smile of determination. “Okay, now what?”

I show her how to whisk the filling together, adding plenty of cream and sugar, along with all the other ingredients we need. Freya’s movements are more confident now, and as I remove the partially warm pie crust from the oven, she doesn’t hesitate to pour in the filling, smoothing it out with a grin.

“Perfect,” I tell her. “Now we just need to put it back in the oven. Want to do the honors?”

She nods eagerly, sliding the pie onto the top shelf before giving me a satisfied smile. “I have a good feeling about this. This could be the best pumpkin pie that anybody has ever made.”

She looks so fucking cute standing in my kitchen, a streak of cinnamon on her cheek. I reach out to brush it away, not missing the way she shivers slightly beneath my touch.

God, the things I want to do…

Freya’s cheeks pinken as she looks at me, and she swallows hard. The air between us feels charged, buzzing with tension, and I force myself to tear my eyes from her pretty face.

“So…how did you learn to bake pumpkin pie?” Freya asks breathlessly, like she’s desperate to fill the silence.

“My mom taught me.” I lean back against the counter. “It was Chloe’s favorite treat growing up, so I wanted to know how to make it from scratch.”

Freya makes an appreciative noise. “You sound like a great dad.”

“I try my best. I’m not perfect, but I love my daughter, and she knows that.”

Something flickers in Freya’s eyes, a shadow passing over her face as she says, “That’s all a daughter needs—to know she’s loved.”

Her expression makes my stomach drop. I’ve never seen Freya look unhappy, and even now, she’s trying to hide it. But the sadness in her eyes is unmistakable.

“You okay?” I ask, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

She nods, pressing her lips together. “Yes.”

“You can tell me anything, Freya.”

With a sigh, she shrugs like it’s no big deal and says, “I never had a dad. He left us to start a new family when I was still a baby.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, anger sparking inside me as I think of Freya being abandoned by a man who should have loved her unconditionally.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “That fucking sucks. You deserved better.”

She blinks, then forces a smile and says in her chirpiest voice, “I’m better off without him! It’s a good thing that he left. My mom is all I need, anyway.”

I recognize the way she pushes down her negative emotions. It’s something I’ve gotten all too used to doing.

“It’s okay to be sad about it, Freya,” I tell her, moving closer and wrapping my arm around her shoulders. “Some things just suck, and it’s okay to be mad or upset. You don’t need to put on a brave face all the time.”

She smiles at me sadly. “Isn’t that what you do?”

I make a noise deep in my throat. “Touche.”

With a sigh, Freya rests her head against me, and my heart squeezes tight.

“Thank you, Roman,” she says. “You’re right. I guess I’m just so used to hiding behind a smile.” Her voice is soft and quiet. “I’m happy most of the time. But I’m still learning how to letmyself be sad too. Pushing all those negative emotions down isn’t healthy.”

“You’re right. It’s not. I’m starting to learn that the hard way.”

We stay like that for a few minutes, both of us lost in our own thoughts, until Freya takes a deep breath and asks, “Is the pie nearly ready?”

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