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  Claimed by the Lumberjack

  Copyright ©2019 Izzy Slam

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction intended for mature readers. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All characters depicted in this story are fictional, not blood related, and are consenting adults over the age of 18 years.

  Description

  Willow

  I’ve just graduated from high school, and I can’t wait to spend the summer relaxing at my uncle’s cabin. Alone. Without having to listen to my sister’s constant whining and my mom’s non-stop fighting with her boyfriend.

  But peace and quiet seem to elude me when I show up at the place. If the roar of a chainsaw isn’t ringing in my ears, it’s the crack of trees falling right outside my window that drives me to the brink of insanity. Angry as hell, I make my way through the path that leads to the pond and I catch a glimpse of the perp.

  I’ve got an ax to grind with this a-hole. And I don’t give a damn if he’s larger than life, smoking hot, and holding a running chainsaw. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind and chase him away for good.

  Hawk

  I spent three years letting my witch of an ex-wife tell me what to do, and all so she could cheat on me, clean out my bank account, and take the home I bought for us right out from under my nose.

  Seriously. I gave that woman everything, only to be tossed aside like garbage.

  And now, I’m going to do what I always do: recover by building something from scratch with my bare hands, starting with another home that’s for me and me only. A nice little cabin in the woods where I can retire and live happily ever after as a single man.

  So, when this red-hot pepper of a girl comes bouncing up to me—her blond ponytail flying and spit spraying from her lips and flames coming from her ears—I don’t give her the time of day, much less let her dictate what I do on my own damn property.

  And if that little brat bugs me long enough, I’ll turn her over my knee and give her a “what for.”

  I dare her to push me.

  Willow

  The moment I pull into the driveway of my uncle’s cabin, I can feel the tension that’s built up over the past year start to melt. I just graduated from high school, and my Uncle Roger gave me this place to use for the next two months as a graduation gift.

  I park at the end of the drive and get out of the car, taking in the fresh country air, sunshine, and ample shade provided by the surrounding woods. It’s a good thing I don’t scare easily because I’m literally miles from civilization. But that’s what I’ve always loved about Uncle Roger’s cabin. You don’t have to worry at all about loud neighbors or even nosy ones. If I want to prance around the woods naked as a jaybird and skinny dip in the pond, I can totally do it.

  And despite being miles from civilization, the closest town is only about a twenty-minute drive where I can do all of my shopping or eat at the local diner if I don’t feel like cooking.

  But most importantly, I’ve got the place all to myself this summer—no whiny baby sister and no having to listen to my mom and her boyfriend screaming and yelling at each other all the damn time. I’ve had about all I can take of that bullshit. And when my uncle handed me the keys to his cabin, I cried real tears of joy. My mom didn’t want me to go. But I’m eighteen years old now, so she couldn’t really stop me.

  This is going to be the best summer of my life.

  I get all my luggage and groceries inside and notice a musty smell. Uncle Roger told me he was too busy to vacation up here this winter, so it hasn’t been aired out in eight or nine months. Damn, I wish I’d brought some candles, but cracking the windows will work just as well.

  I open the kitchen and living room windows first, then head to the only bedroom in the cabin. That window seems to be stuck, but after a few good yanks, it finally gives. And right as I’m making sure the screen is secure, I hear the sound of a chainsaw, the rev of the engine soft and muted, as if way off in the distance.

  I don’t think much of it as I get to work unpacking a week’s worth of groceries and putting my clothes away. But as I’m hanging my sundresses up, I can’t help but notice the roar of the chainsaw getting closer, louder, and more obnoxious.

  It’s probably someone cutting down a few dead trees, so I still don’t let it get to me. They’ll probably be done in a few hours anyway.

  I make myself a sandwich and immediately tear into the chocolate chip cookies I brought when I happen to notice a photo album sitting on the coffee table. There are about a half a dozen albums scattered about the cabin, and I’ve always enjoyed thumbing through them. But this one looks new. Smiling, I make my way over and start scanning the pages, reliving fond memories of summers spent right here when I was younger, before my dad passed away.

  Most of these pictures I haven’t seen. And some of them were taken before I was even born, specifically the ones of Uncle Roger and my dad as boys swimming in the pond and catching a few trout. My grandma is in the background, lying on the beach in her 1970’s style bikini.

  These snapshots make my heart ache, wishing my dad had never been killed in that car accident. I was only seven when it happened, so I still have a few memories of him. But they’re beginning to fade, and that makes me sad. I carry him in my heart, wherever I go. I replay those memories over and over, as much as I can, so that I will never completely forget.

  Once I’m finished eating, I relax on the couch with a book, streaming some music from my Bluetooth speaker. Every few seconds, I hear the chainsaw revving in the background, and the noise is starting to irritate me. I’m also starting to wonder who the hell is cutting down trees around here, and why.

  This cabin sits on at least a couple thousand acres. My uncle has always taken great pride in the fact that we have about two to three square miles of total privacy. It was one of his biggest selling points when renting it out for extra cash. It’s been a while since he’s done that. Too many shady renters and midnight emergency repairs. But still, I have to wonder if this is a trespasser I’m dealing with.

  And after several more hours of noise pollution, I decide it’s time to find out. So I pick up my phone and call Uncle Roger right away.

  “How’s everything at the cabin, little darlin’?”

  “It’s perfect, Uncle Roger. Just like I remember. I do have a small issue, though.”

  “If it’s about the ceiling fan, I’m aware of the problem, and I’m actually coming up there next weekend to fix it.”

  “It’s not that. I think we might have a trespasser.”

  “A trespasser? Was someone inside the cabin when you got there?” he asks, his voice near panic.

  “No, nothing like that. They’re outside. Cutting down trees with a chainsaw. And over the last few hours, it sounds as if they’re getting closer to the cabin.”

  “Oh, that,” he says, sounding relieved. “Yeah, I should have mentioned…I sold a couple hundred acres to this gentleman a few days ago. He did mention he was planning on building a house, but I had no idea he’d start this soon.”

  I cover my face with my hand.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter.

  “Sorry, sweetie. I really didn’t think it would be an issue. Yo
u want me to give him a call and get an idea of his schedule?”

  “No, that’s okay.” I blow out a hard breath. “Not like it would make a difference.”

  “He’s probably just clearing away some land. Hell, it can take months to get a permit for building a house. I’m sure he won’t be out there all summer.”

  I take consolation in this and hang up with my uncle. And he promises to let me know before he shows up next weekend to fix the fan. And all I can think about is what I will do if this joker drives me nuts all summer long.

  By dinnertime, the noise is making me insanely angry. I’ve always been quick to anger. I know this. But I will absolutely lose my shit if I have to listen to this every day for the next two months.

  Something inside of me snaps, and I barge out the door, not even bothering to change into something a little more appropriate than booty jean shorts and a too-small halter top. I even pull my hair into a ponytail as I storm along the trail in the woods, feeling like I’m ready to start a fist fight.

  I follow the sound of the chainsaw as I make my way down the hill, and within a few seconds, I see the son of a bitch. He’s leaning over several fallen trees as he cuts away the limbs.

  When he sees me coming, he stands upright, and I get a better look at him.

  Holy fuck, he’s huge. And hotter than hell.

  Why are the sexy ones always a dick?

  I know that may seem harsh, but let’s face it. The hot ones usually turn out to be pricks. Besides, right now he’s being a dick because he’s officially ruined my first day of summer. God, he’s actually so hot, I find myself making fists, already wanting to punch something.

  That doesn’t even make sense to me, but that’s how I feel.

  He shuts off the chainsaw, and while I planned to be nice and sweet at first, “nice and sweet” is not what comes out of my mouth.

  Hawk

  I set my chainsaw on the ground and rest on a tree trunk before tearing into my sandwich. It’s mid-afternoon, and I normally don’t wait this long to eat, but I have a little more land to clear with no time to waste. I want to break ground on my new home by next week.

  Kind of crazy that I’m doing this at all, but the hard work and all the blood, sweat, and tears that I’ll pour into building my home will be worth it.

  Six months ago, my divorce was final. My ex-wife—the fucking witch—cheated on me with some dickface she works with. And because her sister is an attorney, they conspired to use every trick in the book, somehow making me look like the bad guy. She accused me of emotional abandonment, or some such shit, and managed to slink to her lowest level yet, playing every dirty card she had to win the house in the divorce settlement.

  A house that I had bought for her right after we moved here.

  A house that I sank a lot of money and time into when adding on an additional room for The Witch to host her candle parties.

  A house I believed we’d raise a family in.

  A house I now fucking hate because of the fucking memories that haunt those walls.

  Fuck, just thinking about what she did to me makes my blood boil. And yeah, if I’m being honest, I’m not too keen on women these days, right or wrong as that may be.

  When I learned she was going for the house, I couldn’t afford to fight her on my meager lumberjack salary. But I didn’t feel like it anyway. Hell, we’d done enough fighting the last few months of our marriage to last me the rest of my life.

  What I did do was thank her for showing me what a low down, dirty bitch she truly is before I let that woman bear my children. She was never worth one ounce of my love, much less my seed. And I’m thankful every fucking day that it ended when it did. And now, I’m a twenty-eight-year old bachelor and I plan to keep it that way for good. I won’t let anyone inside this heart of mine just to yank it out and stomp on it.

  I’ve been renting a little trailer a few miles from here, knowing it’s not a permanent solution. I think I’ve been waiting for inspiration to strike. Or maybe I needed to feel compelled to do something with my hands that would benefit me directly for once (that’s one thing I love about being a lumberjack: it helps me vent a lot of frustration).

  When I passed the “land for sale” sign a few weeks ago, I felt that pull. That little tug that said I needed to jump on the opportunity. After checking out the location and meeting with the owner of the property, I can honestly say I can’t wait to build my house from the ground up.

  I purchased a few hundred acres, and that’s plenty for me to expand upon, should I decide to put in a swimming pool, or even build another house to rent out or sell. I’ve even got a little pond to fish in. I can add on or I can take away and no crazy bitch will be able to divorce me and steal it.

  I finish all three of my sandwiches and guzzle down a liter of water before starting up the saw and going back at it. The sun is already starting to dip in the sky, which means I only have a few hours of daylight left. I need to make the most of every second.

  I fell several more trees over the next hour and start limbing the bigger one when I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. I assume it’s a wild animal, and one look lets me know I’m partly right.

  It appears to be a girl, stomping her way towards me with a whole lot of wild anger swirling around her. I don’t know if it’s the fire in her eyes, or the red of her cheeks, or the way her fists are clenched. But I can tell she is not a happy camper.

  Hell, what chick is?

  When she gets close, I can practically see the steam billowing from her ears. Her long, blond hair is pulled into a ponytail that appears to be sprouting off the top of her head, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s lost her mama or daddy.

  I hit the kill switch on the saw as she stops.

  “Excuse me. What are you doing?” she asks, quipping out her words with so much irritation you’d think we’d already met and had words about this.

  “Clearing some land. What are you doing?”

  I can tell what she isn’t doing, and that’s bothering to cover up her body. The girl is wearing jean shorts that would pass as bikini bottoms and a light pink cropped halter top that barely covers her tiny breasts. I shouldn’t be rolling my gaze over her, but damn…

  She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest before jutting her hip to the side, as if to say, “how dare you ask me a question.”

  “I’m trying to relax in my summer cabin,” she snaps. “But there’s so much noise I can’t even hear myself think.”

  I glance behind her and see the roof of the cabin she’s talking about. The only other cabin around for miles.

  “Is your daddy Roger Snow?”

  Her jaw clenches and this flustered look crosses her face. “No. He’s my uncle.”

  “Well, it would seem your uncle neglected to inform you that I bought some of his property. And you’re keeping me from my work, so, if you don’t mind…”

  Her sardonic laugh pisses me off. “Well, you’re keeping me from enjoying my vacation. Can’t you do that another time?”

  This time I laugh. Little girl thinks she’s going to boss me around. “Can you relax another time?”

  Her eyes widen in shock. “Obviously, I can’t. You’re the one encroaching on my peace and quiet.”

  “Oh, am I?” I say, setting my saw down and struggling to keep my cool. Fuck, this bratty teen is making me see red.

  “Yes, you are.” She tilts her head to the side and purses her lips.

  “Well, guess what? I happen to be building a home here. Something that’s a little more important than letting a child relax.” I make air quotes as her mouth falls open. “And, as it just so happens, I’ve got about half an acre to clear out. If it takes me all summer to do it, well, that’s just too freaking bad, little missy.”

  “I’m not a child.”

  Then stop acting like one, I think.

  “I’m eighteen years old, and I’d like to have a little downtime before starting college this fall. Something a
meat head like you probably wouldn’t understand.”

  “Is that so…?” I ask, a growl starting to climb up my throat as she scans me from head to toe.

  “Yep. Sure is.”

  Slinging insults. Just like a woman. Only this is no woman I’m dealing with. She may be a legal adult, but this brat is asking for a whooping. And my right hand is twitching to give her one.

  “Let me make myself crystal fucking clear.” Now that I know she’s an adult, I don’t have to use a filter with her. I take a few steps in her direction, closing the gap between us, and notice her nipples poking through the fabric of her halter top. My cock gets a surge of blood, but it’s just a primal response. I’m not at all attracted to this little firecracker. “This meat head has every right to be out here cutting down trees on my property. You don’t like it? You can take it up with your uncle. Until then, you’re wasting my time. Oh, and you’re trespassing, too. So why don’t you go on back to your cabin and find a coloring book to doodle in. Maybe that will occupy your selfish little mind and help you relax.”

  I pick up my chainsaw and start it up again, this time noticing the rage in her eyes before I turn my back to her. And yeah, with a smile on my face.

  I don’t care if she’s pissed or her feelings are hurt. She’ll learn mighty damn quick no woman tells Hawk Braden what to do.

  Willow

  I storm my way back up the trail to the cabin, my heart racing from sheer outrage.

  I thought this guy was a dick, but I was wrong. He’s a cocksucking motherfucker if I ever saw one! I’ve dealt with plenty of rude people in my life, but this asshole takes the fucking cake.

  “Coloring book, my ass,” I mutter under my breath.

  The moment I step foot inside the cabin, I grab my phone and call my uncle back. He’s going to have to do something about this or I will.

  “What’s up, sweetie?”