Page 7 of Her Rugged Lumberjack

“I’m just really into tinsel,” she says, clumsily attempting to untangle a string of lights.

I catch her eye and she grins at me to show she’s joking, but she doesn’t elaborate. Instead, she sets down the lights and busies herself with arranging decorations on a nearby shelf, like she’s trying to avoid the question. There’s something closed-off about Margot. It’s like there are brick walls surrounding her, and she’s careful never to reveal too much. I remember how she left yesterday, practically running out of here like she’d been burned, and it only makes me more determined to find out about her.

“I’m guessing you’re local,” I say, trying again. “You always lived in Cherry Hollow?”

“Yep.” She reaches for a piece of red ribbon, and I wait for her to say more, but she doesn’t. Instead, she asks, “Have you always lived on the farm?”

“Yeah. My family has owned this land for a long time.”

I don’t want to talk about me; I want to hear about Margot, but before I can ask anything else, she cuts in with another question. “What was it like growing up here?”

I tell her about my childhood: helping Mom and Dad on the farm, running through the cornfields, skating on the lake, and playing hide-and-seek among the Christmas trees. She seems fascinated by everything I have to say, but whenever I ask her something in return, she turns it around, making it about me instead. This girl is a closed book, and I can’t figure out why.

When lunchtime rolls around a few hours later, it’s the end of Margot’s shift, and I still don’t know a damn thing about her. I don’t want to push her. This is just a casual seasonal job, and she could easily walk out and never come back without sayinga word. But dammit, I wish I knew more about her. Something. Anything.

“Thank you for helping me,” she says, grabbing her scarf and wrapping it around her neck. “It already looks way better.”

I’ve been so busy staring at Margot that the barn has barely registered, but she’s right. It’s no longer as empty—the shelves are lined with decorations, and there are strings of lights draped here and there. There’s still work to do, but we’re making progress.

“No problem. Good job today.”

She smiles. “Thanks.”

I don’t want her to go, but she’s eyeing the clock anxiously like she has somewhere to be, so I reluctantly open the barn door for her.

“See you on Wednesday,” she calls over her shoulder.

Wednesday. Two whole days away. It might as well be two fucking years.

I watch as Margot gets into her car and drives away, leaving me alone in the partially decorated barn. With a sigh, I head into the office and browse the calendar of Margot’s shifts. According to this, she only has twelve more until Christmas. Twelve more shifts until she leaves. It doesn’t leave me much time to…

To what?

Fuck, I don’t know. Realistically, there’s no way a curvy angel like her would want a middle-aged man like me. Even if she had a thousand shifts left at the farm, I wouldn’t stand a chance. But dammit, I have to try. From the second I saw Margot, I knew there was something there. She stirs up emotions I never knew existed, desires that have been dormant for as long as I can remember.

I want this girl.

I want to make her mine.

And I’m not afraid of working hard to get what I want.

5

MARGOT

I leavethe grocery store and get in my car, my feet aching from another long shift. Somebody dropped a bottle of wine just as I was about to leave, and the cleanup took longer than expected. I was due at the Christmas tree farm five minutes ago, and I step on the gas as I drive through the snow-shoveled streets of Cherry Hollow, my heart starting to thump.

It’s been over a week since I started working for Declan, and it’s getting harder to keep my distance. I assumed I’d be working alone most of the time, but Declan is nearly always by my side, and he seems determined to find out more about me. The fact he’s so interested fills me with warmth, but opening up to him is too risky. I don’t want us to get any closer, not when I’m already thinking about him every waking hour of the day. Whether I’m stacking shelves, comforting my mom through another breakdown, or getting coffee with Freya, Declan Thorne is never far from my thoughts.

Why did I have to end up with the hottest boss on the planet?

But it’s not just his handsome face that has me captivated. There’s just something about him…his intensity, his thoughtfulness. I’ve never met anybody quite like Declan before,and it’s getting harder to ignore the feelings raging through me every time I see him.

As usual, Declan is waiting for me in the doorway of the barn, holding two cups of cocoa. Heat pulses through me at the sight of his bulging muscles straining beneath his flannel shirt. The sleeves are rolled up, and I can see his tattoos more clearly as I head toward him, wishing I didn’t feel so darn flustered. I hoped the attraction would wear off eventually, but if anything, he seems to get sexier every time I see him.

“Sorry I’m late,” I say, thanking him as I take the cocoa.

“Don’t worry about it.”

---