Page 47 of Liberated By the Logger

I love our little mountain life. The hikes where he always makes sure I’m safe, to the spontaneous snowball fights where he always lets me win and decides what my prize from him would be—usually involving a bedroom activity. All happy highlights. His little forehead kisses and words of encouragement are a comfort I rely on. The way he randomly sweeps me into his arms and starts dancing with me around the kitchen while we listen to music to prepare dinner always leaves a smile on my face. And the way he tucks me into his chest on the couch to watch a hockey game on silent while I read whatever required course reading is necessary is his way of being present while I work.

With Brose doing the bulk of the cooking, cleaning, and laundry, I completed writing my dissertation months before I needed to defend my research to a committee of forest science experts. Not used to anyone catering to me, I’d often start helping, only for him to shoo me away, telling me, “Essays don’t write themselves.”

He was right, but I didn’t feel right about him doing the brunt of the work. He’d smile at me, saying, “You’ve no idea how happy I am taking care of you.” And he meant it. Every. Single. Time.

To anyone who pooh-poohs us moving too quickly, I shake my head at them. You can’t argue with someone who has never experienced the immediate connection of the person they’re meant to be with. They’ll never understand until it happens to them.

Instead, I focus on my happiness and the mountain man who brings me it. Haters can go on hating.

The university dean speaking into the microphone brings me back to the present.

“Congratulations to all our graduates from all our programs. You are forever a part of our Colorado State University community. Go out into the world with confidence and do great things with the knowledge you have gained. We can’t wait to see what you achieve in this life.”

The crowd cheers, caps are tossed, and everyone makes a mad rush to exit the stadium.

While I’m trying not to drown in a sea of moving bodies, a big hand snags me around my waist, yanking me out of the crowd and against a familiar hard body smelling of my favorite cologne of cedarwood and musk. The flannel of his fresh shirt is soft against my cheek and complements nicely with his new cargo pants, making him the sharpest looking logger I’ve seen. He even went into downtown Fort Collins to get his hair and beard trimmed at the new trendy barber shop.

My man cleans up nicely. It’s sweet he went through all the effort to look nice for me.

Brose’s lips press firmly against my cheek. “Darlin’,” he purrs in his deep timbre, “I’m so damn proud of you. My little forest scientist. Wasn’t too long ago I was liberating you from a tree. Want to go chain yourself to another and let me save you all over again?”

I smirk, staring up at him. “If by saving me you mean fucking me against a tree while I’m restrained, I’m all for it.”

Brose groans a curse, discretely adjusting himself in his cargo pants between us. “Rain check on the foreplay. Your family is waiting.”

He attacks me with kisses before I’m squealing as he throws me over his shoulder. The crowd parts for him like the Red Sea, making our escape from the stadium fast.

Outside, we’re greeted by my family, all wanting hugs and kisses. Brose teases me, using his pointer fingers to push up the corners of his mouth to remind me to smile for the pictures my family insists on taking with me. I glower at him between clicks on their cell cameras, making him chuckle. He knows I hate any attention on me not coming from him. It’s tedious going through the motions, but I know it means a lot to my family.

After a few last shots with me and my mountain man, we’re in the truck heading home with a caravan of family following us back. Brose had spent a lot of time this spring getting the yard ready for the party. He built a pergola over the large deck with hanging light bulbs, made a few more wooden rockers for our guests to enjoy the view, and felled a few trees in the yard to construct a big fire pit with seating around it for all of us to stay warm in the cool spring evening.

Guests chill with their drinks and chat away while a few of my nieces and nephews run around. A handful of my professors made the trek up the mountain for the catered food and to offer their congratulations. All of Brose’s logging crew, including his ever busy brother—Alan—attends, adding inappropriate jokes and boisterous laughter to the mix. And during the entire celebration, Brose never lets me play hostess, insisting it’s my day and to relax.

When everyone is sitting down to eat, Brose stands from his seat next to me. He clinks his whiskey glass with his fork, quieting the rest of the group. His normally pale freckled skin is a bright shade of red, and there is a thin sheen of sweat dotting his brow.

Is he embarrassed? Nervous?

Perhaps he’s a lot like me and doesn’t like the spotlight on himself.

Alan smirks at his brother and leans back in his chair with his thick arms crossed over his barreled chest, like he’s in on some inside joke. The other loggers snicker and nudge each other, all enjoying their boss’s discomfort. Even my dad fights a smile, coughing to hide what is clearly a laugh at my man’s expense.

Brose rubs at his throat, swallowing what I assume is nerves for having to talk in front of a bunch of people, most he’s not familiar with.

“I wanted to thank everyone for joining Aspen and I in celebrating her graduation from her doctoral program. She’s spent a hell of a lot of years in school, studying for this moment. I’m happy y’all can recognize her achievement and take part in something truly important to her.”

There are a lot of awes amongst the group, myself included. Brose can be a big teddy bear when he wants to be. It’s nice for everyone else to see this side of him, too.

My man relaxes a smidge, his nerves slowly melting away as he continues. “Aspen is one of the most dedicated and hardworking people I know. She’ll make one hell of a forest field scientist. Whoever she ends up working for will be damn fortunate to have her.”

Alan coughs into his hand. “O’Mara Timber.”

Everyone laughs as I roll my eyes.

A logging company wasn’t on my radar originally until Brose pitched the idea of me working with him and his brother the night we met. Most major logging operations have a forest scientist on their payroll, testing the soils and conditions of the trees. If O’Mara Timber planned on expanding, they needed someone with knowledge managing the science end of the business. Once Alan realized I was an option for company expansion, he’s been actively offering the position to me—anything to let him focus more on the corporate end of things.

The guys will work around my schedule to allow me to continue my research in the field while working part-time for their company. It’s the perfect position for me.

Not wanting to appear like I simply expected to be given the job, I still went through the resume and application process, insisting on an interview and for them to reach out to my references. They did it to humor me, and I appreciate them respecting me enough to not wave it off.