Page 4 of My Lumberjack Valentine

“Oh.” She blinks in surprise. “I don’t think I’d be great company right now.”

“Doesn’t matter. Hell, I’m never great company.”

She smiles slightly through her tears, but I can tell she’s still hesitant. I don’t blame her. I’m a big guy with a grumpy face and a permanent scowl that I inherited from Grandpa. People take one look at me and think I’m a threat. Usually I don’t give a shit what anybody thinks, but I don’t want this girl to feel intimidated. I want her to feel safe in my presence. It shouldn’t matter to me this much, but for some crazy reason, it does. It matters a hell of a lot.

“Are you sure you want to hear about a stranger’s boring problems?” she asks.

“You bet. Might help you feel better to get it off your chest.”

Truth is, volunteering to get coffee with a stranger would usually be my idea of hell, but not with this girl. I want to know all about her, starting with why she’s upset.

“Well…I guess coffee sounds kind of nice,” she says.

Her eyes flicker toward the coffee shop, and hope swells in my gut.

“My treat,” I tell her.

She smiles at me again, some of her reserve melting away as she says, “Thanks. I’d like that.”

We stare at each other for a beat too long, the air buzzing around us, and I swallow hard. I don’t even know this girl’s name, but there’s just something about her. She’s captivating. My whole body thrums with energy as I look at her, desperate to touch her, to kiss those pretty pink lips…

Shit. What the hell am I thinking?

She’s a stranger. A beautiful stranger, sure, but just a stranger. I need to pull myself together. I’ll buy her a coffee, we’ll chat for a little while, and then go our separate ways.

And in the meantime, hopefully my heart will stop pounding like a fucking jackhammer.

3

ROSALIE

I’m strugglingto keep my breathing in check as I follow the giant stranger toward Perfect Brews. He seems to take up the entire sidewalk with his broad shoulders and wide frame, his chest straining against the red flannel shirt he’s wearing. I can smell his masculine scent—whiskey and pine—and my heart flutters as he opens the door to the coffee shop, beckoning me inside.

What the heck am I doing?

This all feels so surreal. I just found out I’m going to lose my job and my home, and now I’m getting coffee with the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. The craziness of it all temporarily overshadows my heartache; I can’t help being distracted by this handsome stranger as he pays for our drinks before guiding me to a secluded booth. A candle flickers on the table between us. It feels so intimate…and yet I don’t even know this guy’s name. It’s probably time to fix that.

“So, what’s your?—”

“—what’s your name?”

We both speak at the same time, and I grin at him sheepishly. “I’m Rosalie.”

“Boone.”

He nods at me, his face glowing in the candlelight.

God, he’s so handsome.

It’s hard to tear my gaze away from his rugged features—thick beard, straight nose, and a pair of scowling brows that are softened by his bright blue eyes, the color of the sky on a cloudless day. He must be in his early forties. Almost double my twenty-two years. But somehow it only makes him sexier.

I would never usually accept an invitation to coffee with a stranger, especially not from a big, intimidating-looking man like Boone. But I couldn’t resist. Not just because of his good looks, but also because I wanted the company. It’s been a tough day, and something about Boone feels safe. Secure. He might be a stranger, but maybe that’s exactly what I need right now—somebody to listen to me with no bias or judgment.

“So, Rosalie,” he says, his deep voice sending shivers through me, “you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“You’re sure you want to know?”

The last thing I want to do is start yapping about my problems if Boone was just asking me here to be polite, but he nods, his eyes burning with intensity as though it really matters to him.

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