Page 9 of Liberated By the Logger

In no time, I have chili warming on the stove and fresh bread baking in the oven. Hopefully, a hearty home cooked meal will win me some points with the little lady. It can’t hurt, right?

The idea of winning her over is taking root the more I think about her. There’s absolutely no reason for me to be this attached this early in the game, especially when I don’t know the first thing about her. Yet here I am, imagining a fall wedding and decorating a nursery in one of the spare bedrooms upstairs.

This is nonsense. Or is it?

Staring at the back of the couch where she rests, that odd tug deep in my chest has my feet crossing the room toward her in a nanosecond.

One look. One more look and then I swear I’ll put distance between us.

As I peek at the dark-haired beauty who has magically wormed her way into my heart, she stirs from her slumber. She opens her sleepy green eyes, looking up at me.

“My hero,” she murmurs before shutting her eyes once more. Her soft snore follows almost instantly.

FUUUCK! She called me her “hero.” A hero is fine and all, but I want to be so much more now.

She may as well have stuck a flag in me and called dibs.

This woman—unconscious or not—has claimed me. Fucking me.

Reasoning be damned. I need to convince her to stay and be mine. My mind runs wild with all the ways I could make her stay permanent.

The buzz from the washing machine alarm is the only thing snapping me out of my plotting. I head for the washroom, determined to be the best version of myself. Women like a man who shares in the household manual labors. Hell, I already do it for myself. Doing it for her will be easy brownie points.

I throw what clothes of hers appear safe to dry in the dryer and the rest I hang above my stationary tub to air dry.

Able to take care of her in her time of need? Check.

Able to be mindful of her things? Check.

Able to cook a good meal? Check.

Able to keep a clean and organized home? Check.

With all the things that need to be done in my home to make a good first impression on a woman checked off my list, I decide to shower—a real one this time. Women like a clean man, right? Or at least, they prefer the men they choose to be intimate with to be clean.

The thought of sex with this beauty has me adjusting my hardening cock in my still-wet jeans as I speed walk back to my bathroom to get showered. While I’m at it, I may need to take care of myself in the shower, too, anything to calm my dick down. I don’t want to scare my house guest with a massive tent in my pants. It’ll definitely turn her off before I use my charm on her, and I can’t afford to take any chances.

My houseguest—whoever she is—I want her to see the best version of myself, to put her nerves at ease. Regardless of whether she likes it, she’s at least stuck with me for the night.

If I have it my way, I’ll make it so she’ll never want to leave me.

CHAPTER FOUR

ASPEN

When lightning brightens the inky sky, I scream, partially to alert anyone who may be in the area I need help, but mostly because I’m scared shitless of dying. Hypothermia from severe weather exposure or being electrocuted from lightning are realistic possibility.

Knowing my luck, I’ll suffer both.

This can’t be my ending. I’ve so much more life to live, so much more to give this world. Most of my life I’ve done the right thing, playing it safe. The one time I let my guard down and trust an idiot, I get sentenced to death?

No way. I refuse to go out this way, helpless and scared.

Come hell or high water, I’m going to get out of this. And when I do, I’m going to use this chain to strangle my ex. I’m done with the Gary’s of the world.

With the storm picking up speed, I say a silent prayer.

Dear Universe, I’m not ready to leave. I want to love and have someone love me in return. Please, don’t take me out of this world until I at least experience a love that would move mountains.