Hunks, Hammers, and Happily Ever Afters (48 page)

“I’ve been in this woods and this world longer than you. I’ve seen people make mistakes, sometimes huge ones that seem to take a lifetime to recover from. But eventually the hurt stops and the past no longer clouds the future.” She placed his palm over the carving. “In your heart, you know where your future resides.”

He swallowed hard, the dark specters of Melanie’s betrayal beating furiously against his chest. The more they raged, the more it became obvious to him. They weren’t tormenting him as punishment, they wanted release. He wasn’t imprisoned by them. He was the vicious warden caging them inside, feeding off their presence so he could protect his heart. But all he’d done was chain himself to his past.

A gentle hand settled on his shoulder. “It’s time to let them go.”

Shaking, he stopped pushing back the pressure in his chest, instead conjuring an image of Tully holding him tight, the love shining in her eyes, chasing the darkness from his soul.

Little by little, the tension drained from his body, until the only thing left was...love.

“Now you see.”

The weight lifted from his shoulder and he jerked his gaze up. He was alone in the woods. Well, as much as he could be. In this forest you were never entirely alone. The tree vibrated beneath his fingers and he grinned at the tangible proof of that observation. He dropped his hand and stared at the carving. Tully’s name had replaced Melanie’s inside the heart.

“In your heart, you know where your future resides.”

Hell yeah he did. Past time to grasp it.

Adrenaline kicking in his veins, he sprinted through the woods and tore across his back yard. He didn’t slow down until he reached his truck. Even then he still maintained his frantic pace, grinding the gears as he swung into reverse. Narrowly taking out the corner of his deck, he shifted into drive and shot down the lane.

He tried not to think of the million valid reasons Tully had to turn him away. And Lord knew she had every right to. He’d rejected her love. It’d be a damn miracle if she didn’t knee him in the balls before telling him to take a hike.

He’d make it up to her. Somehow, some way. Even if it took the remainder of his days. So long as she gave him a second chance.

His desperate thoughts consumed him to the point that he didn’t notice the pothole until it was too late. The truck bucked and fishtailed wildly. Cursing, he pumped the brakes, sweating bullets as the vehicle veered sideways, dangerously close to the same spot Tully went off the road. At the last possible second, the pickup regained its grip and skidded to a halt.

Pulse hammering, he let his foot off the brake. The vehicle rolled forward, hitching to the left. A telltale
whap-whap-whap
coming from the front end brought on his groan. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

Slamming into park, he climbed out and inspected the front tire. Flat as a pancake. Growling, he grabbed the jack from inside the cab and stalked to the tailgate. Just as he was about to hunker beneath the truck bed, a plume of dust on the horizon nailed his attention. If worse came to worse, he’d flag down whomever it was and get a ride into town.

He crawled beneath the vehicle and loosened the lock nuts on the spare. He’d just about freed the tire by the time the approaching vehicle eased to a stop beside him. A car door slammed, followed by the crunch of footsteps.

“Huck?”

The sound of Tully’s voice washed over him. Momentarily forgetting his close quarters, he jerked his head up—and groaned as he banged into the undercarriage.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Huck, for Pete’s sake, answer me.”

He pushed out from beneath the truck and staggered to his feet. “Tully.” Her name came out as a croak.

She rushed to him. “Oh my God, you’re bleeding.” Her hands fluttered over his forehead.

“It’s just a scratch.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, squeezing her tight. “I was on my way to see you and I hit that damn pothole.” He chuffed at her raised eyebrow. “Yeah, yeah, no need to say it. But at least I didn’t go down the gully,” he felt inclined to point out. “Only got that fla—” His voice trailed off as it hit him.

He shifted his focus to the forest and caught a glimmer of copper dancing amongst the trees. A grin stretched his mouth. “Okay, I get it. Flat tire. Keeping it a family tradition, I see.” He returned his scrutiny to Tully. “And let me guess, you experienced a strong compulsion to drive out here and take some pictures.”

She frowned. “No.”

Well, one out of two was still pretty damn good.

“I came out here to talk some sense into your stubborn ass.” She pushed against his chest. “You can’t cut down the tree. And I’m not speaking for the town, in case that’s what you think.” Her gaze softened. “You’re a good man, Huck McKenzie. Better than that stupid Melanie ever deserved. With a huge heart.” She placed her hand over the organ in question. “You’d regret doing it. I know you would.”

“I’m not cutting it down. How can I, when it gave me the hottest night
and
the love of my life?”

She blinked at him. “W-what are you saying?”

He cupped her face. “Tully Eastwood, I’m crazy in love with you. Have been for a long time, but I was afraid to see it.” Before she could open her mouth to tell him where to put that declaration, he slid his lips over hers, kissing her with every ounce of the love welling inside him. Rather than reject him, she gripped the back of his head, pulling him closer. The kiss eventually mellowed its wild edge and he stroked her cheek. “Do you still love me?”

“With everything I am.” Chuckling, she snuggled against him. “Besides, you are
not
getting rid of me that easy.”

“Good. Because I don’t ever want to let you go.”

Sniffling, she hugged him tight. For endless moments he held her, basking in the wonderful, slightly terrifying emotions she’d unlocked from his heart. He’d never turn away from them again. Not when his future was right here in his arms.

EPILOGUE

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S
ix months later.

It was an ideal afternoon for a spring wedding, if not a little on the nippy side. Then again, when it came to the joining of hearts there was no concept of perfection. Only fulfillment. And nothing felt more rewarding than two stubborn blockheads finally putting their differences aside and accepting their destiny with unrestrained joy and happiness.

“I officially pronounce you man and wife.” The officiant gestured to Huck. “You may kiss your bride.”

Apparently not needing to be told twice—
finally the man learned to listen the first time
—Huck swept his radiant sweetheart into his arms and planted a smooch on her that drew boisterous applause from the two-hundred-plus guests packing the clearing. Unbeknownst to the humans, the forest dwellers—both furry, feathered,
and
the magical—cheered amongst them with equal enthusiasm.

Huck broke off his kiss and stroked his wife’s cheek tenderly. The dark specters of his past had been chased away. The only emotion shining in his eyes these days was devotion. And love. Lots and lots of love. “You are my everything, Tully McKenzie. For the remainder of my days, I’m never losing sight of that.”

Her eyes misty with emotion, Tully leaned her forehead against her husband’s. “Me too. I love you, honey. With my entire heart and soul.”

After the minster presented the newlywed couple, they clutched each other’s hands and dashed through the crowd, laughing and ducking their heads as handfuls of paper leaves pelted them. It was an odd new tradition cooked up by Huck and Tully. Leaves instead of rice. They’d wanted to use the real thing, but this time of year for an oak meant bare branches. In another month or two she’d be fully leafed. Already the impatient early buds were bristling to unfurl. But these things took time. Rather like love, in many cases. That was okay, though. She wasn’t going anywhere soon. Sooner or later love would find its way to her.

It always did.

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

I very rarely start a story by writing the last page first. Or from the perspective of a tree. LOL. But when the concept of Knotty Magic came to me many months ago that’s exactly what happened. Characters always—okay,
usually
—come to me first. And this time was no exception. Only the character shouting loudest to me didn’t consist of skin and bones. It was love, at its most magical roots. Heh. See what I did there? This tree encompassed everything we hope and strive for. And sometimes fail to reach, or sometimes lose. But at its heart is something that I truly believe unites us all. Love.

Never stop believing.

––––––––

~J
odi

Jodi Redford

––––––––

J
odi Redford ~  Imaginary superhero. Lover of waffles and bacon. And scribe of erotic romance novels. A few of her readers have officially nicknamed her the Mistress of Naughtiness. She likes it because it makes her sound like an imaginary superhero dominatrix.

She has won numerous awards, including The Golden Pen and Launching a Star. When not writing or working the day job, she enjoys gardening and way too many reality television shows.

You can sign up for Jodi’s newsletter and keep up with all of her latest releases:
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By Amie Stuart

Against The Wall

Copyright © Amie Stuart 2015

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I
f this story seems familiar, that’s because it is. This is the first story from the
HANDS ON
single-author anthology published in 2007 by Kensington. It’s been updated a little and gotten a new title, and for the next six months or so, this box set will be the only place you can find it.

Lexi Kimball has the unenviable position of Safety Supervisor on a construction crew.  The one person everyone loves to hate—she’s caught between bringing a job in on time and getting it done without any accidents.  Not an easy task in the best of circumstances, but throw in a sexy foreman with an adventurous streak and a construction site plagued with problems and you’ve got a recipe for trouble.

CHAPTER ONE

Hot bath; cold beer. Hot bath; cold beer.

This mantra sustained me on the long drive across Houston, on the long walk up my driveway, and even as I’d shoved the key in the back door and unlocked it.

I was so tired that I almost regretted the fact it was Friday night. Friday was Girl’s Night. And there was no getting out of it.

Weekends were this blue collar girl’s guilty pleasure. Weekends were spent on the
white collar
side of town, in
white collar
bars, dancing and teasing and flirting with men who didn’t think burping should be an Olympic sport. In other words,
no
blue collars allowed. Not after Melanie, Carlotta and I spent our week dealing with them daily.

Dealing
being the operative word.

I dropped my hardhat on the washer and struggled out of my filthy work boots. They were covered in mud, as was I, from the knees down. Thanks to the heavy spring rains that had saturated the site and put us behind schedule. And a rogue forklift that had gone crashing through a wall with a load of bricks. Luckily no one had been hurt, but the afternoon’s descent into hell had killed any excitement or anticipation I had about going out tonight.

And you wanted to go into construction why, Lexi Kimball?

With a groan, I stepped out of my jeans and work shirt, and then grabbed a beer from the kitchen. That first long drink hit my empty stomach at lightning speed and didn’t stop until it reached my feet. After being trapped in steel toed boots all day they practically steamed on the tile floor. With a sigh, I rubbed the chilly bottle against my hot neck.

Momentarily satisfied, I headed for the bathroom and a nice long soak. One of the first things I’d done after I’d bought the house two years ago was gut the extra closet in the master bedroom and put in a Jacuzzi tub for days
just
like today.

While the tub filled, I stripped off my tanktop and tossed it into the hamper. The rest of my clothes quickly followed. I ran a hand across the flat plain of my stomach and smiled. Tanned and fairly firm—I certainly didn’t get many complaints. My breasts were average, but still perky. Working construction had always kept the arms and legs in shape. Yoga took care of the rest.

Despite the fact that I was a natural redhead, I was lucky enough to be of the variety that tans easily. Rare, but not unheard of. I leaned in closer to the vanity mirror and ran a hand through my short shaggy hair. Soon I’d have to do something about those silver threads starting to peek through.

Relieved to see the end of another awful day, I sipped at my beer and set the bottle on the edge of the tub, then slid in with a deep sigh.

I liked the satisfaction of seeing something I’d helped build as a finished product, and the money was really good, but construction workers were a breed unto themselves. Being a female Job Supervisor on an all-male crew had been stressful enough. Adding Safety Supervisor to my title had made things ten times worse, and I didn’t believe for a minute that the rest of the job would be any less difficult than the last eighty-eight had been. Nothing like overseeing a group of men who resented the hell out of you to take the wind out of your sails. I’d worked tough gigs before but none this bad.

My sex meant everything to them; my femininity meant
nothing.

Shaking off my reverie, I took another long pull off my beer. The combination of warm water and beer were definitely doing the trick; unworking knots of stress and loosening tense muscles. With another sigh, I closed my eyes and relaxed, my mind drifting to Wade Wilkins, as it had far too often lately.

He didn’t strike me as the typical construction crew guy—married, settled, kids, running to fat around his middle and bitter at the chances he’d pissed away or let pass him by. Wade seemed more like the type who enjoyed gambling, and he was the only man on the crew who didn’t seem fazed by my sex or my charms (or lack thereof, depending on who you asked). Too bad his part of the job would be done soon.