Page 3 of Massive Size Lumberjack

Oh shit.

“There are different types?” I venture in a slow voice.

He nods, unamused.

“Yes. There are different licenses for different purposes. There isn’t a blanket certification that covers everything. There’s a license for indoor growth, another for outdoor growth, manufacture, distribution, retail, and a whole host of other activities. I’m sure you’re familiar with the details.”

I swallow hard but summon a confident façade with a tilt of my chin.

“You know what? I’ll have to ask my brother or dad because they’re the brains behind the operation. Again, I’m just the grower. I oversee the plants and make sure they get the nutrients they need before we harvest and sell. Again, we’re totally legit, and licensed by the DCC.”

“I’m sure your brother and dad have all the answers,” the man says in a dry voice. “I’m sure they have all the right licenses, plural, and the DCC is completely aware of your operations and sales.”

Oh shit. This man soundsreallyknowledgeable, and I try to maintain my composure while smiling up at him.

“I’m sure they do,” I say quickly. “Again, I’m with Treadwell Farms, and you can look them up on the DCC’s website. We’re listed! I’ve searched myself, and we’re definitely there.”

“Good, because I will,” the man drawls. “But in the meantime, I want to see your operation.Iown this land,” he states in a firm tone that brooks no opposition. “And if you’re growing pot on what’s actuallymyproperty, then I want to know. Becausethat would be illegal. Because you’d be hauled off to jail if you are. Hell, your family could lose everything,” he says in a casual voice, like it means nothing to him.

“You wouldn’t,” I gasp.

His blue eyes glint from far above me.

“Try me, Grace Treadwell,” he says in a smooth tone. “I absolutely would because I don’t give a shit about you or your family.”

My cheeks color because this tyrant is so fucking cruel! I hate him already. In fact, I want to smack him in the face before turning and scrambling down the hill at top speed. Yet I want to kiss him as well because the lumberjack is godawful handsome, even if he’s behaving like an ass. He’s got ruffled black hair, a thick beard, and shoulders so broad that he resembles a tank. His bare chest is bronzed and ripped with muscle, showing off thick, slab-like pecs and defined abs. Best of all, there’s a trail of hair leading down from his tight stomach into the waistband of his jeans, and I swallow as my eyes follow the dark arrow. Oh my god, what’s down there? He’s bound be huge and my mouth waters as my fingers twitch involuntarily, my imagination running wild. But then, the man’s voice jolts me back to reality.

“Ready to go?” he drawls, blue eyes amused like he can read my mind. “Take me to your leader, sweet princess. Since we’ve already established that you’renota criminal trespasser.”

I flush with embarrassment because he just caught me checking him out! My nipples tingle as awareness runs through my sweetest spot, but to hide my humiliating reaction, I whirl on my heels and immediately begin stalking off down the forest path.

“You don’t have anything to be worried about!” I call over one shoulder. “My family’s farm is legit and we’re growing onourproperty, not yours.”

“No doubt,” the lumberjack drawls in a sarcastic voice. “But let’s just make sure, shall we?”

I can feel his hulking presence at my heels because it’s obvious this man has no trouble keeping up, given his long strides ... and even worse, I have a feeling he’s caught me in a trap.

3

Braden

“Here we are!” Grace says in a bright tone, gesturing to what looks to be a shanty with a small garden off to one side, and a greenhouse on the other. Both structures are relatively small, and I squint a bit. “This is where we raise our crops.”

I nod slowly.

“Okay, so this isn’t an industrial operation.”

“Of course not,” Grace snaps. “I’m just one person, so there’s no way I could do that much on my own. Again, we’re just a small family farm, and we supply locals mostly. I doubt we even export our stuff to other states.”

I nod, still surveying the scene. The greenhouse looks to be in poor condition, with raggedy plastic walls and a hole in the roof. The shanty is even worse. It’s run down and saggy, with a smallporch that’s missing a step. The windows look brand new, like they were put in recently, but it’s a stark contract to the rotting wood of the walls, and the shingles falling off the roof.

I pause for a moment.

“Have you fireproofed this place?” I rumble.

Grace perks up, her eyes bright, and she looks beautiful with her blonde ponytail bouncing and a smile on her lips.

“Yes, after the Tahoe Fire, my brother and dad came by and did a huge retrofit. They put in the new fire-safe windows, and replaced some of the shingles on my roof with new ones. Everything’s Class A rated now.”

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