Page 10 of Praise Me: Lumberjack
I swallow a pinecone. “Well,” I say, striving for breezy. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine.”
He stops in front of me, raising an eyebrow.
Idiot. “I quoteCasablancawhen I’ve had too much caffeine.”
He grunts. “You planning on being this fucking cute all night?”
A giddy sensation ripples through me. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”
That sharp gaze sweeps down to the hem of my miniskirt. “Yup.”
My tummy freefalls, like I just dropped from the highest height of a roller coaster. “Too bad, I guess,” I say, totally breathless. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
Drag me out of here into the dark and use me. Any part of me. Use it.
Can’t say that out loud, can I?
“Get up,” Penn says, yanking the closest crew member off his stool, tossing him to the side. “Weren’t you taught to offer a lady your seat?” He hauls the stool out and angles it into the corner. Then he picks me up and settles me onto the warm leather, blocking me from the rest of the patrons. “There, baby. You’re okay now.”
I hiccup once and dive into his welcome flannel chest, twining my arms around his tree-trunk waist. Not playing it coolat all. Whimpering my pent-up fear into the hard wall of his body, letting him absorb the feeling and replace it with security.
“You smell like the forest,” I sigh.
He clears his throat. “That’s where I spend most of my time.”
“Because you love being a lumberjack? Or is it just a job?”
“Nah, I love it. Giving the trees a noble send-off. Knowing they’re going to be immortalized in someone’s home or framing a piece of art in a museum. Planting the next generation in the earth and watching them stretch for the sky. It’s humbling.”
My pulse skips. “That’s beautiful, Penn.”
He grunts.
“Where is your daughter tonight?”
“Babysitter,” he answers, rubbing my back. “She can stay there as long as it takes to get you home safely, Jenna. But goddamn, you shouldn’t be here in the first place. It’s obvious you’re not comfortable.”
I soak up his intuitiveness. His care. “They’ve been bringing me to parties and clubs and bars since I was fifteen. I saw a lot of things I was too young to see.” I swallow. “I guess I should be grateful I never got used to them. Being uncomfortable means I’m not numb. Yet.”
“Fifteen?” Penn turns his head long enough to pin someone with a look of pure malice. “I’ll be having a word with your manager while you’re in town.”
Why do I get the feeling that “have a word” means physical harm?
I tip my head back all the way, the ends of my hair tickling the small of my back. “Okay. But you should know that…I could fire my manager tomorrow and I’d end up with someone else just like him. This is the industry. Young girls are expected to be savvy enough to fend for themselves. There’s no instruction manual. We’re just…thrown into the lion’s den. And we’re only taught to do one thing—get the part. By any means necessary. Stay relevant. Be seen a certain way. Be seenat all.The things that used to ground us slowly begin to fade away until we forget what it’s like to be grounded at all.”
His fingers push into my hair to massage my scalp. “What kind of things used to ground you, Jenna?”
“Old movies. The treehouse in my backyard growing up. Cup stacking.”
Penn’s lips quirk at one end. “Cup stacking?”
“I was really good,” I whisper wistfully.
“Hmm.”
He’s looking at my mouth, and I can’t help it, I open my thighs a little on the stool, my eyes fairly glazing over when he inches his big hips between them. Even if he’s grumbling and shaking his head, as if he knows our proximity is a bad idea.
