Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
A hot lumberjack with a bad reputation...
The lone wolf everyone in town avoids.
New town, fresh start—that’s all I want.
He and I hit it off at the bar, but I’m not looking for anything serious.
Our chemistry is explosive, so we decide on just one night.
Or so I thought...
People tell me he's damaged goods, an outcast, even his parents.
But I see him for who he loyal, protective, and a little bit broken.
Just when I think things could be perfect, I uncover his dangerous past.
The only thing worse than falling for a man with dark secrets?
Is keeping my own secret from him—how do I tell him I’m pregnant?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
MIKE
There wasn’t much to do in Singer’s Ridge on a Friday night. Most of the local kids went to the next town or even as far as Nashville for a good time. I remembered Friday nights as a teen, drinking beer out in the woods behind my friend’s farm. We all dreamed of getting away, of joining the Army or moving to the city, anything to banish the small-town blues.
I was back in Singer’s Ridge, not for a vacation or a high school reunion, but because my life had been put on hold. It was Friday night. I was faced with the dilemma that all rural folks have to deal with: how to expend energy without fancy concerts or upscale dining. The Lucky Lady was pretty much the only bar in town if you wanted live music and good food. The same regulars turned up week after week, but they brought bands in from out of town. With nothing else to do and nowhere I wanted to go, I drifted there like a tumbleweed on the wind.
“Hey, Clint,” I said as I settled myself at the bar.
“Mike,” the bartender returned the greeting, a little cold. I couldn’t blame him. Everyone in town thought I was a drug dealer. Could be because I was tried and convicted in a court of law, but that didn’t make it true.
“A pint of whatever’s on tap,” I ordered.
Clint drew a pint of wheat ale and handed it over, not offering to run me a tab. He waited patiently while I fished a five out of my pocket. These tiny jabs were never-ending. It seemed once a person was labeled a criminal, that’s all anyone ever saw. Just because I had been to prison didn’t mean I was going to take my beer and make a run for it. Where would I go? Everyone in town knew me, and without the Lucky Lady to entertain me on Friday nights, I would be miserable.
I had given up trying to explain myself to anyone. Unless I chose to leave town, I would have to put up with their suspicious eyes and the way they treated me differently from everyone else. The whole time I was locked up, I had been aching to get out, to get back to my “normal” life. Now here I was, anything but normal, a pariah in my own hometown.
“Mike?” A familiar voice cut through my internal bellyaching. I swiveled in my seat to see Porter, the last person I ever wanted to talk to.
“Hello,” I said, drowning my discomfort in a swallow of beer.
“Mike, it’s been so long!” Porter gushed, his eyes wide and watery. “How you been?”
“Fine,” I grumbled.
He stumbled up to the bar, leaning against it for balance. “Hey, Millie and I are gonna go out to the lake later tonight. Why don’t you come?”
“No, thanks.” Millie was Porter’s on-again-off-again friend with benefits. She had two kids and lived in a trailer park, though I couldn’t judge seeing as how I lived with my parents. I had never liked her and always felt that she was dragging Porter down. That is until Porter showed his true colors and proved himself to be just as much of a headache as Millie.
“Man.” Porter ran a hand over his mouth to conceal his next words. “We got somma the good stuff.”
I set my beer down, controlling myself so as not to make a scene. “I just did six months in prison for you.”
“Shh,” he insisted, more worried about the truth than about illicit drug use. “Nobody knows.”
I leaned close. “I’m not trying to tell anyone. But I’m also not interested in getting high with you.”
Porter grabbed my beer and took a swallow. “You’ve changed.”
“I never wanted to get high with you,” I insisted. Thankfully, the music was so loud no one could hear our conversation.
“Yeah, but you didn’t use to be such a dick about it,” Porter slurred.
“I’m a dick?” I said incredulously.
“That’s what I said.” He bobbed his head as if his neck were suddenly boneless.
“I took the rap for you, and you didn’t even say thank you.” I ground out the accusation through clenched teeth.
“Well, thank you,” Porter spat back at me, clearly sarcastic.
“You need to sober up,” I said. “Get a real job, marry Millie, and stop sneaking around at the lake like a stupid teenager.”
“When did you become such an old man?” Porter sneered.
I sighed. Staying here was only going to get me riled up. I didn’t need another conviction on my rap sheet for starting a bar fight. I left my half-finished beer on the bar and walked out.
Ilived in an apartment over the garage at my parents’ place. They lived in a two-story home behind the lumberyard they co-owned and had started from the ground up twenty years ago. Before my long, sordid history with the law, my dad had been grooming me to take over the place. He taught me how to do the books, introduced me to all the regular customers, and helped me learn how to cut lumber to individual specifications.