Page 12 of Grumpy Alien Lumberjack
"I can't." The words were barely a whisper.
"Why?"
"Because I don't want you to stop."
He leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull away. She didn't. Instead, she tilted her face up to meet him, her eyes fluttering closed. The first brush of their lips was tentative, testing. She tasted sweet, like the berries he had given her. When she sighed against his mouth, he deepened the kiss, one hand tangling in her damp hair.
She kissed him back with surprising fervor, her small hands coming up to frame his face. When they finally broke apart, both were breathing hard. Her face was flushed, her smile bright and inquisitive.
“You taste like pumpkin spice!” Jeneva kissed him again, pressing her lips against his like she couldn’t get close enough. “You do. You taste just like pumpkin pie.”
A light laugh came from her throat. He didn’t know what pumpkin spice was, but it made her happy.
“You can taste me whenever you wish.” He pulled her gently against him. "I have known you one day, and yet…"
"I know." Her fingers traced the edge of his jaw.
“I desire you.”
"You shouldn’t. I'm broken."
"No." The word came out sharp, almost angry. He pulled back enough to look into her eyes. "You are evolving. You are not broken. Do not ever say that again."
He kissed her again, swallowing whatever protest she might have made. This time there was nothing tentative about it. It felt like he was trying to prove something, to her, to himself, to whatever had brought them together.
Chapter Five
Jeneva
The kiss ended, but the taste of him lingered—an impossible, perfect blend of fall spices that made zero sense. He pulled back just enough for her to see the liquid silver of his eyes, his expression intense and unreadable. Her hands were still framing his face, and she could feel the heat of his skin, the rough texture of his jaw beneath her palms.
What was happening? This grumpy, solitary lumberjack had looked at her, truly looked at her, and seen something other than a broken shell. He had called her evolving. The word echoed in her mind, a warm, bright thing in a space that had been cold for so long.
He broke the gaze first, clearing his throat with a low rumble that vibrated through his hands. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face before the familiar scowl settled back into place.
“I brought something for you,” he said, his voice rough. He gently removed her hands from his face, his touch surprisingly careful, and rose to his feet. “From the village.”
Jeneva watched him, her lips still tingling. She pulled his flannel shirt tighter around herself, the soft fabric a comforting weight. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He held his hand out to her. She took it and let him guide her into the kitchen. The tension that had been thick with desire a minute ago now shifted into a hum of curiosity. Pulling a chair out for her, he then dug inside a large sack on the middle of the table and pulled things out of it.
Grains, dried meats, and a lumpy, mottled-purple gourd the size of her head.
“I accessed the Majaki database.” He gestured at the strange vegetable. “I searched for this… ‘pump-kin’ spoke of. The database provided an image. This is the closest native plant I could find.”
Her heart did a little flip. He had gone to the village and researched a nonsensical craving she had mentioned in passing. He had tried to find a piece of her long-lost home for her. The gesture was so unexpectedly sweet, so profoundly thoughtful, it caused a deep ache in her chest.
“That is so kind of…” she started, but the words caught in her throat.
“I do not have your Earth spices,” he continued, oblivious to her emotional short-circuit. He held up a small leather pouch. “But these are used in Majaki ceremonial foods. They are delicious.” He opened the pouch and a strange, peppery scent mixed with something like licorice filled the air. It was nothing like cinnamon.
He looked from the gourd to her, his silver eyes earnest. “We could attempt to construct this ‘pie’.”
Jeneva couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “Construct it? You make it sound like we’re building a starship.”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “From what I read, the process appears similarly complex.”
The absurdity of it all was delightful. This giant alien warrior was about to perform a culinary experiment with a purple space-gourd.
