Page 8 of Her Rugged Lumberjack

Declan takes my coat and hangs it up for me, but when he sees what I’m wearing underneath, he frowns. I look down at myself, surprised to see that I’m still wearing my vest with the words ‘Cherry Grocery’ emblazoned on the back, my name tag attached with a clip.

“Shoot.” I unzip the vest and shrug it off. “Sorry, I was in such a rush when I was leaving.”

Declan meets my gaze. “I didn’t know you worked at the grocery store.”

My face warms as those chocolate brown eyes fix on me, and I take a sip of cocoa to avoid speaking. I don’t know why I didn’t mention my other job to Declan before. The fact I work at Cherry Grocery isn’t exactly a deep personal thing to open up about. Maybe I just didn’t want to admit to him I’m struggling financially…that working non-stop is the only way I can stay afloat right now.

“The barn looks great,” I say, trying to change the subject.

Declan has added a few things in my absence, and now the place is practically overflowing with lights, tinsel, decorations, and Christmas trees. It looks like something straight out of the North Pole. The farm is opening to the public in three days, and I’m sure the barn will be a hit.

“Thanks to you,” Declan says with a nod, but he’s still frowning. “So, what time did you start work this morning?”

“Five-thirty.”

He raises an eyebrow. “So by the time you leave here tonight, you’ll have been working fifteen straight hours?”

I nod, unsure of what to say. It sounds like a lot when he says it that way, but right now, I don’t have much of a choice. The silence between us stretches for a beat too long, and I suck in a breath, looking out toward the Christmas trees.

“So, now the barn’s done, should I get started on making some wreaths?” I ask.

“No.” Declan’s voice is so firm that I chance a glance at him, my heart stuttering at the intensity of his gaze. “You deserve a break.”

I blink at him. “But I just got here?”

“Margot, you’ve been working all day. You deserve to have some fun.” He looks out toward the window, then back at me, like he’s had an idea. “What do you say we go ice skating?”

“Ice skating?”

“You said you’ve never done it before.”

The fact he remembers this minor detail from our first meeting makes my stomach flutter, but this is a terrible idea. I can already picture it. Declan and me…alone on the frozen lake…his giant hands holding me, helping me balance, his warm body pressing against mine…

“My mom’s skates should fit you,” he continues, pulling me from my thoughts. “They’re in my cabin.”

I open my mouth to decline, but I can’t make the words come out. Ice skating does sound pretty fun, and the defiant glint in Declan’s eyes is melting my resolve.

“Okay,” I say, the word coming out with a whoosh of breath. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Declan smiles beneath his beard, grabbing my coat and handing it back to me. “Wrap up warm.”

I do as he says before following him outside through the rows of Christmas trees. My brain is screaming at me that this is a bad idea. Ever since I met Declan, I’ve been doing my best to keep my walls up and avoid temptation. Now I’m walking straight toward it.

We reach the frozen lake, and I catch sight of Declan’s giant cabin once more, looking more beautiful than ever in the fiery sunset.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, eyes warm as he looks at me. “Don’t go anywhere.”

I watch as he hurries toward a wooden bridge that I didn’t spot before, striding across it and heading toward his cabin. He disappears inside before emerging a couple of minutes later, holding a pair of skates in each hand. I can’t stop staring at him. He looks so at home surrounded by trees and mountains. There’s a wilderness about him—from his overgrown beard to his hulking frame—and desire blooms between my thighs, hot and heavy.

Crap. Why did I agree to this?

Declan crosses the bridge and holds out a pair of ice skates toward me. “Here. Hopefully, they’ll fit.”

I sit on a nearby tree trunk and pull the skates on, tying them up while Declan does the same with his much larger pair. Mine are a little tight, but they fit well enough, and I gingerly push myself up into a standing position. The blades sink into the snow, and it feels like I’m trying to walk on stilts as I lumber gracelessly toward the lake, Declan at my side.

“Be careful not to skate too close to the edges,” he says. “The ice is thinner there.”

I nod, swallowing nervously as I reach the frozen water. It stretches before us like a sheet of blue glass, and I tentativelyset one skate onto the ice. Then the other. I glide a couple of feet before lurching forward, my arms windmilling until Declan grabs me.

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