Lumbersexual (Novella) Read online

  Wow. That worked. He didn’t spill it all over my chin like Emma.

  How come beer tasted better when a good-looking guy gave it to you?

  He flashed me a half-grin and then stepped back to gather more wood.

  Late in the evening though it was, the cloudless sky remained a clear blue, framed by an opening of tall trees. Off to one side, Wawona Dome, a whitish granite-topped peak, lorded over the landscape.

  “Maybe we’ll see the alpenglow,” he said as he now hoisted bigger logs alongside the pit.

  I totally noticed his biceps, and I tried not to think about wood, logs, or how he was about to set something on fire. Maybe me.

  That didn’t work so well given how he looked carrying firewood. So I focused on the word “alpenglow” and tried to calm my thoughts and use my brain.

  “I don’t know what that is,” I admitted, realizing that it was easier to talk to him now that I knew what category I was in.

  Holding a stack of firewood, he stopped, shook his head, and rolled his eyes. “You gotta learn how it is in the mountains, babe. When the sun sets, it turns the peaks pink at the top. Watch for it.” He dropped the wood, came over, and sat down next to me, so close that I felt his warmth through his clothes and got a whiff of that delicious woodsy body wash.

  I also got a better look at his crazy tattoos.

  Ink covered both of his arms. The left arm seemed to have a single interlocking design, and I wondered who the figures were and what it all meant. The right arm, all swirling pattern, color, and words, had so many designs, I couldn’t tell where one began and another ended. Maybe that was the point. What I wouldn’t give for him to take me on a personalized tour of his body.

  But I guess we weren’t doing the tour guide thing, either on his body or of the park.

  “It’s starting,” he said, and pointed at the dome. His jean-clad legs spread next to mine, his knee so close I could touch it. I noticed his work-rough fingernails, the way his lower lip was chapped, the perfect shape of his ears, and then I tried to pay attention to the sunset. The rosy pink color wasn’t just on the mountain, but permeated the very atmosphere between us, turning the clear mountain air thick and hazy with pastel color. We sat in silence for a few moments as the sky slowly changed colors and made the mountain glow.

  I waited for a pop, for something to announce that the sunset had finished, but so slowly that it was imperceptible, it became fading shadows and darkening sky. And I realized I’d just sat for a long time with this hunky stranger without saying anything at all.

  But that silence was companionable, not uncomfortable. Since it wasn’t going to happen with him, I didn’t feel like I had to chatter and impress him. Sitting next to him in the mountains just felt right. I let out a breath and it broke the spell. Momentarily lost in the beautiful Sierra sunset, I’d forgotten I was at a party. But the music and the laughter of the party swelled and returned, and I awoke from the trance I’d been in.

  He looked up to the now-dark sky and then over to me. “Want me to start a fire now?”

  I nodded. We used to have bonfires where I grew up, and I loved feeling the warmth of flames outside. “Too bad we don’t have stuff for s’mores.”

  “We’ll do that next time,” he assured me. Was that a promise or just something nice he was saying?

  Now I was over-analyzing everything he did. I needed to just accept that it was over before it started and not try to wiggle my way out of it.

  I really wanted to wiggle against him, though. Even if it was just for one night.

  Stop it, Maggie.

  I helped him to gather up more kindling and tinder, and like a Boy Scout, he built a fire, a small log cabin of sticks covering pine needles, with a teepee over it. Striking only one match, he lit it.

  Show off. It always took me a cup of lighter fluid and a book of matches to light a fire back home. Guess that’s what happened when you were as hot as Court. Spontaneous combustion.

  Shaking my head at his utter backwoodsman competence, I sat back down on my part of the log, and he sat down next to me. Legs spread. Almost touching me. Again.

  Damn. I liked it.

  Gesturing at my beer sitting next to me on a stump, he asked, “Another sip?”

  “No thanks.”

  “It’s good to linger a while,” he mused, almost to himself. “By the fire. In the forest.”

  “Yeah.”

  Again, we sat in silence while the fire crackled and bigger logs caught flame. Sitting next to anyone at a campfire made me feel like I knew him better than I really did. Being outside, watching the flames lick the sky and smelling the wood smoke brought us closer together.

  “I know you gave me shit about not seeing the Valley, but I can’t wait to go. From the pictures, it looks just stunning. I can imagine that it’s even more impressive to experience it.”

  I could see his mouth tilt into a half-grin in the dark, lit up by the flames from the fire. “You can’t imagine it, babe. You just have to see it.”

  Again with the babe.

  Stop over-analyzing.

  He continued, “Though it’s best just to get into the backcountry after you check the Valley off your list. It’s too much like Disneyland.”

  “Really? Why?” For someone who was giving me crap about not seeing the most famous parts of Yosemite, that was a strange admission.

  “People love Yosemite to death.”

  The fire had now caught for real, and as the logs burned, they fell, sending momentary sparks into the sky.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Guess that’s why I’m restoring meadows.”

  He raised his eyebrows back at me and his cheek twitched. “That your job?”

  “Yup.” Or it would be, once I got started.

  “That’s cool. I like that.”

  The wind shifted and the ashy smoke blew in my face and I coughed, my eyes burning from the sudden assault. Just as suddenly, it shifted again, and the cool mountain breeze came back.

  “I’m always the one to get the smoke in my eyes at a bonfire,” I complained.

  “They say smoke follows beauties,” he rumbled.

  Okay.

  That was a flirty thing to say.

  I stared at him, not sure how to react to that one.

  Idly, I wished that I could research new people on the internet, but for real. Learn everything about him immediately. Find out his best and worst qualities, relationship status, and ability in bed, without having to do the work. So I could find out if he was compatible.

  Why wasn’t he just on a dating site instead of right next to me? Why didn’t the cabin have Wi-Fi?

  Thankfully he pulled me back into being a somewhat sane and normal human. “You just finish school?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know what I want to do now, though. I can’t see past this summer.”

  He kicked at the dirt, picked up a stick, and poked at the ground, and then looked up to the sky. “You’ll figure it out. By the end of the summer, you’ll know where you’re going, and you’ll leave and go do it. This is your time to play ranger.”

  There was something odd in the way he said it. “I don’t want to play anything. But I do want to figure my life out.”

  “Yosemite’s a good place to find yourself, if you’re lookin’.”

  He paused and looked up at the sky again. Stars were starting to twinkle. He got up and threw a log on the fire, which sent up a rush of sparks into the night, like fireflies dancing up to the stars.

  “It feels special,” I readily agreed. “I mean, Yosemite is part of our national identity. It’s one of the things we think of, when we define ourselves. America the beautiful from sea to shining sea. That song could be talking about this place. Though the mountains aren’t purple, they’re white or pink.”

  He laughed at that and then reached over and pushed a curl out of my face. “They sure are pretty.” And again, I wondered what he was talking about. His hand stayed under my chin. Those intense eyes regarded me, an
d those soft lips parted.

  God, what was this?

  I checked in with my body.

  Stomach? Fluttery. Heart rate? Panicking. Mouth? Dry.

  He leaned in.

  I inhaled. My lips parted. My heart beat in my throat. My hands got sweaty, and my mouth dry.

  Bam!

  The screen door slammed, and we both jerked back and looked toward the house. In the light of the kitchen, I could see a stunning brunette walking towards us. “Court!”

  “Oh, shit,” he said under his breath. “Look who’s here.”

  Pine needles broke under her shoes as she walked down, then stood between us and the fire. I got a good look at her, even though the fire danced around her head.

  Long, perfect, dark auburn hair, with just the right bounce. Thoroughbred eyebrows framed a face made for modeling makeup. Tall—his height—and lithe, she was perfect. The opposite of my compact, athletic build and spastic hair.

  “I was told you were here,” she said.

  He stared at her, then introduced me. “Maggie, this is Amanda. My co-worker.”

  Giving him the kind of smile that made me know instantly there was more to it than co-worker, she shook my hand. “Pleasure.” And the way she said it, I knew she really thought the opposite.

  I got pissed. She needed to be gone. Now.

  So of course instead of reading my psychic vibes to go back to the house, she settled in right on the other side of Court. Worse, she started leaning into him, laughing, flipping her hair. Patting his bicep.

  I wanted to feel that bicep. I wanted to feel what those lips felt like. What that beard felt like when it scratched my cheek. What he tasted like.

  But Kristy’s warning was spot-on. He was not the one for me.

  Now I was glad he turned me down.

  But this also made me feel like the brushfire he’d ignited in my body had been extinguished by chemical retardant—in the form of a willowy brunette. Nothing but scorched earth and dead brush remained. Nothing was going to happen.

  And that made me lonely, even though I was surrounded by people and would go home to a houseful of roommates. For some reason I wanted to cry.

  I got up and brushed myself off. “It was nice to meet you, Court. I’m sure I’ll see you around this summer. Take care, Amanda.” My voice cracked on the last part. Dammit.

  I turned to go, forcing the tear ducts shut, embarrassed at how upset I was, but he got up. “Maggie, you got a ride home?”

  “I should. Unless Ian got too drunk, in which case I’ll drive.”

  “I’ll drive you home,” he said resolutely, and started walking me up to the house.

  But I could tell that Amanda didn’t like that idea by the way she grabbed his arm. “Hey! I needed to talk to you, Court.”

  He looked back at her and let out a breath. “Can it wait?”

  And the fact that he was turning her down too gave me perverse pleasure. Little Miss Perfect couldn’t have him either.

  She smiled that smile that didn’t reach any other part of her body. “Of course.” She let go of his arm and sat back, studiously looking at the fire, like that’s what she’d wanted to do anyway.

  I wanted to roll my eyes.

  As we walked back up to the party in the moonlight, leaving Amanda at the fire pit, I tripped over a tree root and Court caught my hand. “Steady now.”

  He didn’t let go of my hand.

  I liked holding his hand. I liked the way it felt. Solid.

  I didn’t know why he didn’t let go, even when we got inside.

  But when we walked back into the party, Kristy noticed us immediately. Great. Now my new boss would think I was one of his summer conquests.

  Extricating my hand from his, I found Emma. “Is Ian too drunk to drive?”

  “Yes, but I’m sober. I’ll drive us all back in about fifteen minutes.”

  Court turned to me. “I’ll take you now. You’re at the Brown House?”

  Emma said, “Yes.” Then looked at me, “That’s what the locals call our house.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  Pushing me by the shoulders, he started propelling me to the door. “We’re leaving.” And again, I felt the need to do what he said.

  We stepped outside to a dark green vintage truck, which had pulled behind the van. “This is yours?”

  He nodded.

  “It’s amazing,” I gushed. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  He raised an eyebrow in appreciation. “Thanks. It’s an International.” He unlocked the door for me, and I climbed in and fastened the low, waist-only seatbelt. It felt funny to be in a vintage truck without airbags or shoulder seatbelts or a plastic dashboard. He climbed in next to me and started the truck, which came to life with a loud, satisfying thrum, but he paused before taking off, his hand on the wheel.

  “Changed my mind.”

  I stared at him. “About what?”

  “I’m taking you to the Valley for your first time.”

  Now I was thoroughly confused. “I thought you couldn’t go.”

  He looked at me carefully and shifted the car to drive, but still stayed parked. “Wait for me to take you.”

  “I’m not sure I want to do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It looked to me like you had someone else.”

  Shaking his head slightly, he said, “No. There’s no one. Amanda’s pissed because she can’t accept the way things are. I’m not interested in her.” We kept going, retracing our way back to my house. I didn’t have to tell him where to go, he just knew.

  “She’s interested in you.”

  “Unfortunately. That’s history. Don’t worry about it.”

  But of course I did worry about it.

  He and Amanda were together at some point in their past, and I felt a surge of jealousy that she’d had him before. And while they weren’t together now, she obviously wanted him back.

  Why did he turn me down? And why did he change his mind?

  I couldn’t come up with a reason.

  When we got to my house, he stopped at the driveway, letting the engine run. I hopped out. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Anytime.”

  He watched me go up to the house and didn’t take off until I’d closed the door behind me.

  The next morning I woke up early and listened to Emma snore. Tiny thing made more noise than a generator. So much for quiet in the woods. I peeked out the curtains and saw a mule deer eating green leaves right outside my window in the foggy morning.

  I lay in my sleeping bag on top of my lumpy bed and thought about my first night in the park.

  Of course, I had a lot to think about this morning, and not just because I’d awoken in a new bedroom with a new set of roommates.

  Now I had this guy with clear eyes like sea glass, and a voice that did something to me. But who was also someone I shouldn’t get involved with.

  He said not to worry about Amanda. Did I trust him? I didn’t even know him.

  I chewed on a hangnail and stared at the ceiling.

  God, that guy made me all obsessed and body-alert. I could still hear his deep voice and see the way his torso filled out his shirt. Then I looked at Emma sleeping, and I realized that I couldn’t get together with him, even if I wanted to, because of the piles of roommates. I could drive myself crazy wondering whether he really was going to kiss me in the firelight under the stars last night and whether he was sincere when he said nothing was going on with Amanda. I should just get out of bed.

  So, I made a decision. Rather than risk yet another disappointment, he was firmly friend-zoned. I’d do it to him, for real, before he could do it to me. I couldn’t handle another romantic disappointment. Just no.

  Making this decision hurt more than I thought it would. While I felt relieved by letting myself down easy—it was the kinder thing, right?—the truth was that I also felt bitterly disheartened.

  Was I always going to be alone?

  Not wanting t
o wake up snoring Emma, I quietly grabbed a sweatshirt and snuck into the kitchen to make coffee. Matt sat at the communal table, wearing sweats and a t-shirt, looking out the window, drinking coffee.

  “Morning,” I said quietly, as I took a mug out of the cabinet.

  “Yes it is.”

  So he was about as chipper in the morning as most people were. Yazmin came scuffling up in her pajamas, taking a mug out, too.

  “Today is the solstice so it’s going to be light late. The longest day of the year.” That sounded special, for some reason. Extra daylight to enjoy.

  I ate Cheez-Its for my breakfast of champions and then got dressed and went to the ranger station to check in for my first day of work. Kristy issued me a uniform, and I met the crew I’d be working with for the summer.

  Then I had to fill out forms.

  I hated filling out forms. I never knew which boxes to check for myself. I never seemed to fit into any of them. Caucasian? African-American? Native American?

  I was all of the above.

  Or rather, I was not happy with forms forcing me to define myself by a box. My identity was so much more than that.

  Even if I hadn't figured it all out yet.

  After I attended an hour of safety training, she sent me to the park entrance for “professional development.” She told me that everyone else had already been on a grove walk in the giant sequoias. I had to catch up, so she sent me on a scheduled tour.

  She didn’t tell me that Court would be the one leading it.

  When I saw him standing beneath the immensely tall trees of the forest, dressed in a National Park Service uniform, complete with Smokey the Bear hat, I lost my breath, and it wasn’t just from the altitude. I had no idea that I had a thing for a man in uniform. And I knew that under those long sleeves were tattoos to die for.

  Such a goddamn beautiful way to die.

  “This way, everyone.”

  A group of about twenty tourists stood at the base of the grove of giant sequoias, looking at the shaggy, reddish-brown bark of the largest living things on the planet. Court walked us up through the grove to see the famous big trees, pausing every so often to point out facts about the ecology of the area.