Lumberjack BOSS Read online

  Lumberjack BOSS

  Tabatha Kiss

  Copyright © 2017 by Tabatha Kiss

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This novel contains explicit descriptions of erotic and sexual acts that some may find offensive, including perverse adult language.

  All characters are 18+ years of age and all sexual acts are consensual.

  Reader discretion advised.

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  Contents

  Also by Tabatha Kiss

  Lumberjack BOSS

  1. Hazel

  2. Leo

  3. Hazel

  4. Leo

  5. Hazel

  6. Leo

  7. Hazel

  8. Leo

  9. Hazel

  10. Leo

  11. Hazel

  12. Leo

  13. Leo

  14. Hazel

  15. Hazel

  16. Leo

  17. Hazel

  18. Leo

  19. Hazel

  Epilogue

  You’re Invited!

  More Romantic Comedy

  Old Habits

  Old Habits

  1. Jovie

  2. Jovie

  3. Will

  4. Jovie

  5. Will

  Also by Tabatha Kiss

  About the Author

  Also by Tabatha Kiss

  THE SNAKE EYES SERIES

  Stand-alone romances. Interconnecting stories.

  One unforgettable adventure!

  Bodyguard

  The Hitman’s Dancer

  Love and Wargames

  Bloodlines

  Hard Bounty

  No Fury

  THE BAD BALLER BOOKS

  Irresistible Stand-alone Sports Romances!

  Whiplash

  Johnny Deeper

  Home Run Baby

  THE MIDWEST ALPHAS TRILOGY

  Romance, Suspense, and MMA!

  Untouched

  Unbroken

  Undying

  STAND-ALONE ROMANCES

  Bad boys, billionaires, bakers, and so much more!

  Blind Girl

  Ruin Me

  Muffin Top

  Lumberjack BOSS

  Old Habits

  2 in the PINK

  For more, go to tabathakiss.com

  Lumberjack BOSS

  By Tabatha Kiss

  Wealth. Power. Wood.

  Three things I have more of than anybody else around here.

  It’s taken me two years to get this new housing development off the ground and I won’t let anyone else stand in the way.

  Except Hazel.

  She rolled into town, intent on halting this project in its tracks and nothing I’ve done will convince her to stop her protest.

  She won’t take my money. She doesn’t care about my family’s influence.

  Maybe a little wood is what she needs.

  And I’ve got more than enough to give her.

  One

  Hazel

  “They were lost for hours,” I say, digging my fingers into the diary’s leather binding, “just wandering around in circles out in the middle of the woods until they came upon the river. That’s when my father took her hand, brought it to his lips, and said, ‘I’m sorry. I know you’re distraught and tired and hungry but you’ve never looked more beautiful to me.’

  “Then, he kissed her and they laid down a blanket and made love in the middle of a field of hazel plants.” I chuckle. “That’s how I got my name; Hazel. I’m pretty sure I was conceived there. Afterward, they got up and my dad walked to the nearest tree and he carved their names into it because if they were never going to forget that moment, then the damned forest wouldn’t either — but that’s my dad, he says things like that.”

  I pause and look at the old woman sitting beside me.

  She sighs and clutches her chest. “That’s beautiful, sweetie.”

  “I had no idea any of that happened until last week when I found this.” I hold up the diary. “And then I thought, ‘This is it! This is a sign.’ So, I packed a bag and now I’m here.” I gaze out the bus window. “My parents spent their honeymoon somewhere out in these woods. In her diary, my mother said that she never truly knew who she was, never understood her purpose in life, until she set foot on Lover’s Trail. I guess I’m kinda hoping the same happens to me.”

  She reaches out and lays a wrinkled hand on mine. “I’m sure it will, dear.”

  I roll my eyes. “God, I hope so. I’m broke, unemployed, single…”

  “So am I,” she quips. “You don’t see me complaining.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re really ol—” I bite my tongue. “You seem to have a whole lot of other things going for you.”

  The old woman gives me one last polite smile before staring forward at the front of the bus.

  I silently scold myself as I open my mother’s diary again.

  August 18th, 1991. It’s my wedding day!

  She was my age when she wrote that, almost to the day. Young and so full of life and love. My parents had only known each other a week — a week! — but that’s all it took to know they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together and they did, until…

  I let my thoughts taper off.

  Whitefish, Montana. Lover’s Trail at the edge of the lake. My mother practically drew a map right to it. I look out the window again and watch as the trees pass us by and civilization drifts even farther into the background. That clean, mountain air seeps in through the window beside me. I stretch upward to take a huge whiff of it, relishing in the perfect, woodland smell.

  My parents experienced their happy ending out here. For the first time in my life, things feel like they’re falling into place. Full circle is just around the corner. Life as I know it will never be the same after this.

  I hug the diary against my chest. Somehow, it still smells like her. Years of being stuffed in a storage box never killed the essence of her on every single page.

  I’m going to make you proud, Mom. I’m—

  A loud bang echoes from the back of the bus. My spine stiffens as we jolt to the side of the road amid the cautious gasps of the other passengers.

  The bus grinds to a shaking halt and the driver throws open the door. “Probably just a flat, folks. Hang tight.”

  The others groan. Several of them stand up to stretch their legs and a few more snatch packs of cigarettes from their bags and follow the driver out to light one up.

  I sigh and stare out the window at the trees until my eyes fall on a road sign nearby.

  Lover’s Trail. Next exit. One mile.

  I gasp. “Lover’s Trail!” I grab the old woman’s shoulders and give them a shake. “Lover’s Trail!”

  She gawks at me and I pull my hands away.

  “Sorry, uh… excuse me.” I stand and push into the aisle, reaching up to retrieve my duffel bag from the overhead compartment.

  “Ow!” the woman hisses at me.

  I hop backward as she yanks her foot out from under mine.

  “Sorry! Excuse me! I’m sorry,” I repeat, though I can’t stop smiling.

  There’s no way this flat tire is a coincidence. The universe wanted me to stop here. It wanted me t
o see this road sign at exactly this moment in time. My heart pounds against my ribs as I rush down the aisle; an epic metronome counting down to the best days of my life.

  “Hey, lady!” the driver cries out as I step off the bus. “Where are you going?”

  I beam at him. “This is my stop!”

  “This is the middle of nowhere. It won’t take long to fix the flat…”

  I fill my lungs with the pleasant, forest air. “Something tells me I’ll be all right.”

  He waves a passive hand and says nothing more as I strap my bag over my shoulders and walk away.

  Lover’s Trail. One mile.

  One foot in front of the other, I hike down the highway. Nature tickles all of my senses. I understand now why city folk are so high-strung. You just can’t take this kind of deep breath in the middle of a concrete jungle like Spokane.

  I follow the highway and take the first exit toward Lover’s Trail. The street instantly becomes narrower and I have to hug the tree line to keep from getting run over by the rare passing car but it’s totally worth the mud on my sneakers.

  A campground soon comes into focus. Signs point toward cabin and boat rentals. Rusted tables and dry fire pits lie scattered around. My smile widens the farther I walk. Twenty-five years ago, my parents probably strolled across this same gravel, hand-in-hand, staring deeply into each other’s eyes…

  I head straight for the shack across the lot but I pause as I see a paper sign haphazardly taped to the window out front.

  CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE

  I bite my lip. It’s autumn, but surely people camp and hike just as much now as they do over the warm months, right?

  I cup my hands to the filthy windows and peek inside. There’s no sign of life anywhere. A thick layer of dust coats every surface. This place has been shut down for a long time.

  Still, I give the door a quick knock. “Hello?” I call out, tapping a little louder.

  I try the handle but it’s locked. No answer either.

  Where is everybody?

  I turn around and scan the campsite until I find another sign shaped like an arrow pointed straight for Lover’s Trail. With my smile back on, I walk from the gravel to the grass, taking wide strides toward the woods.

  When I get there, I freeze in place.

  A thick fence blocks the path into the woods, along with a metal sign bolted in front of it.

  PROPERTY OF L JACK INDUSTRIES

  NO TRESPASSING

  FUTURE HOME OF JACKMAN SPRINGS!

  STATE-OF-THE-ART LAKESIDE HOUSES!

  My chest sinks.

  They’re gutting the campsite to put in a housing development?

  Oh, no.

  My heart breaks. No, no. They can’t! This place is a part of me; a piece of my history I didn’t know about until now. They can’t mow it down. Not yet. Not ever.

  I grit my teeth and step forward, reaching up to get a firm grip on the fence before pulling myself up. I can’t say physical activity is my strongest asset but the adrenaline pumping through me makes me forget about that.

  “Ooof!”

  I slip off the fence and tumble the rest of the way down. My duffel breaks my fall but any pain I feel washes away the second I realize I’m lying on Lover’s Trail.

  Here we go…

  I stand up, brush the dirt off my pants, and start walking.

  Two

  Leo

  “Jackman Springs,” I say, pacing in front of my desk. “Imagine, if you will, brand new, state-of-the-art homes featuring the views of yesteryear and the technological advancements of tomorrow. You wake up every morning and gaze out your solar-paneled windows at your own woodland paradise.”

  Bobby sits on the sofa by the wall with a clipboard balanced on his knee. “No,” he says, marking through the speech with a red pen. “Drop the if you will part. It’s too cliché. Go straight into brand new.”

  “All right…” I clear my throat. “Imagine brand new, state-of-the-art…” I stop. “Are you sure? I kind of liked that pause.”

  “No, drop it,” he says, running a hand through his short, black hair to wake himself up. “Less is more. Also, it makes you sound kinda douche-y.”

  “Well, we don’t want douche-y.”

  “Yeah, douche-y is generally frowned upon.”

  I nod and stare out my office window at the dark blue mountains on the horizon. “Brand new, state-of-the-art homes featuring the views of yesterday—”

  “Yesteryear.”

  “Yesteryear and the technological advancements of tomorrow…” I let my voice fall but I continue muttering the first line to myself until Bobby stands up.

  “You all right?” He caresses his bare chin. “Your beard isn’t as shapely as it usually is.”

  I scratch at it. “I’m fine. Just worn out, I guess.”

  He perks up. “Want to stop and try again tomorrow?”

  “Yeah,” I answer. “Any calls from Patterson about the zoning budget yet?”

  “Not since you asked me twenty minutes ago, no.”

  “Let me know as soon as—”

  “As soon as he gets back to us.” He smirks. “You know I will.”

  I wince. “I’m doing that thing again, aren’t I?”

  He waves a hand. “Yeah, but don’t worry about it. We break ground on Tuesday. You’re stressed out. Speaking of which…” His face curls with excitement. “It’s Wednesday night. Ladies’ night. Come grab a drink with me. Let off some steam. It’ll be good for you.” He gestures to my flannel shirt. “And you’re already dressed to impress. The girls around here really dig the classic lumberjack look.”

  “Then, why don’t you ever wear it?”

  “Because I can’t grow the beard.” He gently smacks baby-smooth cheek. “The mystique is lost without the beard.”

  I shake my head and sit down in my desk chair. “Well, no, thanks. I don—”

  “I don’t have time,” we say in unison.

  Bobby laughs as I glare at him. “Come on, man. You do have time. Just put the building regulations down and step away from the desk.”

  “I don’t have time,” I repeat.

  “Leo, I’m your assistant,” he says. “I know your schedule better than you do. Also, I’m ninety-nine percent sure those calluses on your hands come from handling wood — and not the fun kind.”

  “I just need to make it through Monday’s meeting with the board,” I say. “Sit them down, present a more polished pitch, and get them to smile and nod one more time to formally approve the project. Once that’s over, I’ll look into more fun ways of handling my wood but, until then…”

  He nods. “Budgets and regulations.”

  “Budgets and regulations.”

  “Also, your dad will probably disown your ass if you screw up your first solo multi-million dollar project this close to launch...”

  “Yeah…” I pause as that sinks in. “Thanks a lot for that reminder.”

  “It’s what an assistant is for.” He glances at his watch. “Well, it’s almost seven. Do you mind if I go out and grab a drink? I’m still young and very nubile.”

  I grin. “Knock yourself out, Bob.”

  He hands me the clipboard. “Thank you.”

  The phone rings at his desk in the lobby and he spins around to answer it.

  “L Jack Industries; Lumber and Real Estate. … Is the CEO in?” He peeks over at me and I shake my head. “No, he just stepped out, but…” He pauses. “Hold, please.” He presses the phone to his chest. “Uh, Leo. It’s the police department.”

  I glance up. “The police department?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do they want?”

  “A young woman was caught trespassing on the Whitefish Lake property. They want to know if you’d like to press charges.”

  “No…” I run my fingers through my hair. “No. I don’t have time for that. Just tell them to get her out and send her packing.”

  Bobby lifts the phone to his ear. “No,
ma’am. That won’t be necessary. Thank you for calling. … All right. Have a good night.”

  He hangs up and grabs his coat off the back of his chair.

  I try to focus on my speech again but curiosity pokes at me. “Did they say what she was doing there?” I ask.

  “They did not.” He shrugs. “Figure she’s just a hiker who strayed too far in. No harm done.”

  I nod. “Right.”

  “Want me to call back and find out?”

  “No,” I answer. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Goodnight. Oh—!” He sticks his head back in. “Don’t forget that you have to meet the contractor on site first thing tomorrow.”

  “First thing tomorrow. Contractor. I’ll be there. And don’t forget to let me know as soon as—”

  “Patterson calls,” he interrupts with a smile. “I know.”

  I give him a quick thumbs up and he waves as he takes off toward the elevator down the hall. As soon I hear the doors slide closed, I lean back in my chair and stare at the wall.

  “Imagine…” I begin again, “if you will…”

  I frown to myself.

  Okay, yeah. It sounds douche-y.

  I turn my truck onto the mountain road and shift into a lower gear to climb the steep incline. Whitefish, Montana fades off behind me, quickly replaced by trees and nature. Just the way I like it.