Hunks, Hammers, and Happily Ever Afters (40 page)

Trying to keep track of the occasions she and Huck butted heads could be its own full time job. Seriously. Yes, she was outspoken about certain things, especially when it came to preserving the pristine beauty of their small community. But someone needed to give a damn. If the logging outfit Huck worked for had their way, they’d end up felling every tree in a hundred mile radius.

Bad as that might be—and it certainly would be, in her book—this latest development amounted to an all-time low. According to the gossip she’d overheard in the store earlier, Blue Moon’s magic tree was about to face the chopping block. Only this time, a greedy, conscienceless corporation wasn’t to blame. No, that rested squarely on Huck’s shoulders, seeing how he owned the property containing the tree.

She wasn’t merely pissed about what he was doing. It was a complete act of betrayal. Because for her and Huck, the tree wasn’t only a magical wonder, it was also responsible for their very existence. But instead of honoring that fact and protecting the oak from money grubbing developers, he was cashing in.

That motherfucker.

Her grandmother’s words chose that inconvenient moment to pop to the forefront of Tully’s mind.
“Go easy on him, Dearest. You know he’s going through a difficult time right now.”

Beneath the hazy of fury causing her to white-knuckle the steering wheel, another emotion settled in. One far more uncomfortable to acknowledge in the harsh light of day.

Three days ago Huck’s ex gallivanted back into town after a two year hiatus, flashing an engagement ring—put there by his former best friend. It had to have been a gut punch to Huck. How did she know? She’d experienced that lovely sensation every second of every day during Huck and Melanie’s couplehood.

Yeah, being in love with her biggest enemy? Clearly she had a Ph.D in irony and
WTF are you thinking
.

The half hour drive through the heavily forested terrain of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula gave her ample time to wallow to her heart’s content in a big ole tub of self-flagellation. She really needed to get over this obsession with Huck. Kick it to the curb once and for all. Two decades of pining for the impossible was plenty enough. No more wasted years or tears.

If they’d started out as sworn enemies maybe she wouldn’t be saddled with these contrary stirrings from her heart. She didn’t want to remember the endearingly sweet boy from her youth. The one who’d always stuck up for her when the bullies picked on her for being weird and awkward.

Except he’d changed over the last few years. Something hardened him. It didn’t take a psychic to figure out the cause.

Damn that bitch, Melanie. Why couldn’t she have stayed gone for good? Yes, an uncharitable thought. But considering the current disastrous circumstances, it would have been best for everybody.

Without warning, the station wagon hit a pothole the size of Alaska, unceremoniously preempting Tully’s mental grousing. She bounced hard in her seat, her head ramming into the roof. Wincing, she scrambled to regain control of the wheel. The vehicle veered wildly to the right, bee-lining straight for a stand of trees. Pulse accelerating in tandem with the runaway car, she pumped the brakes, her stomach pitching when they refused to catch.

All of that bullshit about seeing your life flash before your eyes in a moment like that? Totally true.

The station wagon’s front tires slid down the embankment, picking up speed. A towering wall of birch loomed beyond the windshield. Oh my God. This was it. The final checkout. At least she put on underwear this morning. When cashing in an express pass to certain death you’ve gotta grasp any silver lining.

She steeled herself for the inevitable impact.

A shudder vibrated through the seat. It took forever to realize the sensation came from somewhere other than her tensed frame. Her cells buzzing from the adrenaline cocktail rush, she stared out the windshield.

The forest edge remained in the exact spot she’d glimpsed it moments ago. But instead of barreling toward it, her vehicle seemed to be...suspended in mid-air. The instant that miraculous observation bloom into fruition the odd shuddering stopped and the station wagon thumped to the ground with a teeth-rattling clank.

Bemused, she pried her fingers from their death grip on the steering wheel and released her seatbelt. She cautiously cracked her door open and surveyed the situation. The car rested at a ninety degree angle on the uneven hillside. Other than her nerves, nothing appeared to be damaged.

Climbing out proved an interesting struggle. Particularly with her head still spinning and slightly sore from the bashing it received from the roof. Nearly twisting her ankle on an unruly tuft of upturned grass, she clutched the door handle and righted herself.

No damn way she’d be able to drive out of this spot.

With the barest minimum of swear words, she snatched her purse and the keys from the ignition and traversed the weed-infested slope back up to the road. Once on level terra firma, she returned her focus to the woods, a shiver tripping down her spine. If she never experienced an ordeal like that again it’d be too soon.

She secured her purse strap on her shoulder and hiked in the direction of Huck’s cabin. Fortunately she didn’t have too far of a walk, but wearing her flip-flops easily qualified as the dumbest idea in the history of dumb ideas. Then again, not like she’d known she’d be traipsing across the countryside.

The rutted lane leading to Huck’s property popped into view. Exhaling in relief, she quickened her pace to a brisk jog. Sad to say, it was the most exercise she’d gotten in a while. Something her burning lungs were all too happy to remind her of. Wheezing, she swatted a lank of hair out of her eyes. The buzzing refrains of a chainsaw became discernable above the raggedness of her breaths and the
flop flop flop
soundtrack of her ill-chosen foot apparel.

Her heart knocked in triple time. Oh, God, no. Panic hammering against her ribcage, she bolted down the path.

It took an obnoxious amount of time for her brain to register two relevant facts. One, the chainsaw noises were too close to Huck’s cabin. Meaning, whatever he was cutting, it at least wasn’t
the
tree. Secondly, what she was hearing sounded suspiciously...musical.

She barreled into the glade skirting Huck’s property. A boombox homesteaded the cabin’s top porch rail, its speakers vibrating from the ear-blasting decibels of the heavy metal track playing on the radio. The tune seemed to be the source of the chainsaw noises. Resisting the urge to plug her ears, she shifted her attention toward the shed—and nearly swallowed her tongue.

Huck stood in front of the wood pile, naked from the waist up. His low-slung cargos hugged his hips in a way that made her envious of the canvas fabric. Oh, good Lord, to be wrapped around him like that. Pressed up against that gorgeous, sweaty body. Gulping, she visually devoured the beautifully sculpted planes of his back as he swung a large wood-handled axe, effortlessly splitting the log resting on the block.

He tossed the axe aside and grabbed the bottle of water propped near his boot. Not tackling him on the spot when he bent over and revealed some mouthwatering butt cleavage? A mother effin’ miracle.

Completely oblivious of her presence
or
enraptured state, he straightened and squirted half the contents of the bottle over his head, plastering his shaggy ink-black hair to his skull. Dropping his arm, he shook himself like a big dog, scattering droplets everywhere. The gesture was so typically Huck—the carefree boy she
used
to know.

Wistful yearning balled against her breastbone.

The lusty thoughts he triggered in her were one thing. She could handle those. But this useless ache in her heart? There lay the true danger.

Don’t let your feelings for him cloud your purpose for being here.

Squaring her shoulders, she sucked in a steadying breath and expelled it slowly. Calmness gradually stilled her nerves and she strode to the porch and plopped down her purse before powering off the boombox. The absence of the metal music made the silence shrouding the glade that more unsettling. But that sensation didn’t compare to the one that sucker punched her the instant she returned her focus to Huck.

He’d pivoted to face her. Judging from his scowl and his white-knuckled grip on the water bottle, he anticipated a battle on the horizon.

That made two of them.

CHAPTER TWO

––––––––

G
oddamn it. The last person he wanted—or
needed
—to deal with right now was Tully. Huck plowed a hand through his damp hair, frustrated weariness punching hard between his shoulder blades. “I take it you heard about the tree.”

“Yes.” Her wounded look made him feel like he’d kicked a puppy.

He mentally shrugged off the prickly blanket of guilt. There wasn’t a damn thing for him to feel bad about. Business was business. If Tully couldn’t understand that, oh well. She’d eventually get over it.

Say in a decade or two.

Snuffing a groan at the lifetime of hell awaiting him, he chucked the water bottle and stalked toward the porch. Awarding her a narrow stare, he clicked the radio back on. The second he lowered his hand, she flipped the dial off again and jutted her chin upward in a stubborn slant that made him long for a pint or two of whiskey.

“We
will
talk about this.”

“Why? There’s nothing further to be said.”

“Like hell there’s not.” Mulishness furrowed Tully’s brow. The all too familiar sight only amped up his strong desire to drink himself into a stupor. That option remained far preferable to the other desire that taunted him whenever she insisted on invading his personal space.

Tearing his gaze from her soft, far too tempting lips, he reached around her and grabbed his flannel shirt from its perch on the rail. He caught a whiff of the exotic and intoxicating scent that always followed Tully like a seductive shadow.

Jesus. She even smelled like temptation. One he’d do damn well to avoid like a plague.

He and Tully were fire and gasoline. He’d been burned enough in the past. He’d have to be a glutton for punishment to court any romantic entanglement with her. And that’s what it’d amount to. He couldn’t be so lucky that she’d see the benefit in relieving the sexual tension between them with a hot afternoon of mattress mamboing. If she was like every other woman out there, she’d take that as an open invitation to redecorate his cabin and register their china at Macy’s. Only with her, he’d have the added benefit of having to listen to her daily litany of complaints.

Grimacing, he shrugged his shirt on. “Fine. You have one shot at airing your grievances. Just don’t count on them bending my decision.”

Tully plopped her hands on her hips, an immediate clue that he was going to regret giving her this much rope to hang him with. “Does your mom know what you’re doing?”

“I’m a grown ass man. I don’t have to swing my plans by her.” That and he knew she’d read him the riot act. If there was anyone capable of wearing out her vocal chords more than Tully, it was his ma. He loved the woman to death, but for his own sanity it was better to keep Cora McKenzie in the dark on this until after the deal was done.

“Has it not crossed your mind that you wouldn’t even be standing here if not for that tree?”

Aw, hell. Here it comes.
If he had to endure one more cockamamie story about the oak’s mystical matchmaking powers he’d find himself nearing the bottom of that whiskey bottle sooner rather than later. “That damn tree didn’t bring my parents together. A flat tire, maybe, but not this hocus pocus BS you and everyone else in this town wants to be true.”

Tully’s stubborn expression remained un-budging. “It’s not coincidental in the least that your dad’s initials happened to come to your mother in a dream
and
she carved them into the tree the
same
morning his truck broke down in front of her folk’s hardware store? Huck, they were complete strangers before that moment. Explain that.”

Shit.
He scratched his nape, stalling.

“Ha! I take your silence to mean you can’t.” She folded her arms over her chest, a cocky smile playing at her lips.

“Yeah, you nailed it on the head. It’s a coincidence.”

“You can’t honestly believe that.” Her mouth popped open in response to his shrug.  After a moment of stupefied silence on her end, she narrowed her eyes in contemplation. “Maybe—and I mean that to the slimmest degree possible—that
could
be the case if it only happened to your parents. But how do you account for mine? Or for nearly half the freakin’ population of Blue Moon, for that matter?”

Okay, he couldn’t. And Lord knows he’d tried to over the years. But everyone loved a magical romance story. Always more entertaining than sound, logical reasoning.

Hell, once upon a time the lore surrounding the oak even suckered him into being a temporary believer and fool—back before life and common sense knocked him on his ass. Now he was the only one in this whole damn town willing to face harsh reality. Magic didn’t exist, and ultimately the fickleness of love stabbed you in the back. Sure, it worked out for a few. His parents were still going strong after thirty-five years together. But the tree sure as hell wasn’t responsible for that
or
for them meeting each other.

“It’s one tree, Tully. One tree amongst a forest of many exactly like it. In other words, normal, ain’t-nothing-special-about-it
timber
. And you know what the purpose of timber is for? Milling and putting money in my pocket. Plain and simple.”

She flung out her arms. “You stubborn ass! Are you really that mercenary?”

“When I’ve got creditors breathing down my neck? Damn straight.”

She relaxed her pose, a gleam of consideration re-sparking in her eyes. “Whatever you’re getting paid, I’ll double it.”

“Oh yeah? You’ve got twenty grand lying around? Didn’t realize the bookstore is doing that good, Ms. Money Bags.”

Tully choked on a cough. She gaped at him, her eyes big as dinner plates. “
Twenty thousand dollars
?” Her incredulous whisper hinted that she couldn’t quite wrap her brain around the staggering figure.