Down by Contact - A Seattle Lumberjacks Romance (12 page)

“Oh, it’ll work.”

Right up to the point that Zach murdered her
with his bare hands.

Kelsie drank up. She might as well enjoy
life while she could.

* * * * *

Zach must have fallen asleep and been
slammed awake in the middle of a war zone. He pulled the pillow
over his head to drown out the sounds outside. Half-asleep, a weird
dream swirled in his head—lots of noise, Harris barking orders,
guys jaw-jacking with each other. Metal clanking against metal.
Loud bangs, noises suspiciously sounding like small engines,
pressure washers, brush cutters and the like roared in his head. A
diesel truck idled near his window.

The bottom fell out of that space between
asleep and awake and plunged him headfirst into reality. Zach shot
up in bed, looking every which way in the large tower suite.

What the hell? More banging, more roaring,
more guys shouting over the noise.

Not a dream. Not one fucking bit. Leaping
out of bed, Zach yanked on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt and
stomped through his house toward the location of the majority of
the racket. He swung open his door with such force it slammed into
the side of the house and shuddered as if it’d drawn its last
breath. Hands on hips, Zach surveyed the organized chaos.

“What the hell is this?”

The closest guys averted their eyes and
refused to answer. Zach stepped to the nearest machine and cut it
off. It died with a sputtering choke, which was exactly what he
planned to do to a certain someone or multiple some ones.

Harris stepped forward, a smirk as wide as
the Columbia River on his face. “We’re cleaning up this hell hole
and helping out the pretty lady here. My guys and I are suckers for
a damsel in distress.”

The entire offensive team down to the
lowliest rookie stopped what they were doing, shut off machines and
stared. Silence replaced the earlier din as Zach squared off with
Tyler. He opened his mouth to kick the quarterback off the property
when he caught Kelsie out of the corner of his eye. She stood off
to one side, dressed in ratty blue jeans, which looked incredible
on her, a dirty white T-shirt, and scuffed tennis shoes. In her
hands she held a small towel. Right now she was wringing the
daylights out of the defenseless piece of cotton. Their eyes met,
and he read her silent plea to play nice.

Fuck.
This was Kelsie’s stunt.

He glared at her, knowing she’d called his
bluff big time. He might not like her. He might figure he owed her
a whole lot of pain. Staring at those damn sky-blue eyes of hers,
though, Zach couldn’t be the heartless bastard he wanted to be.

Turning away from her before he fell to her
feet and did her bidding, he narrowed his eyes and snarled at
Harris. “Fine, I’ll bring some real muscle, and we’ll get some
actual work done.”

In response Harris turned on the pressure
washer and cupped his hand to his ear. “What? I can’t hear you. Did
you say you’d call in more help?” He aimed the nozzle at Zach’s
feet, and Zach jumped back a few feet.

With a curt nod, he tromped back into the
house, threw on some old jeans and started making calls. Five
minutes later, he stepped out into the fall sun, shovel in one
hand, loppers in another and went to work without a word. He’d be
damned if Harris and his prima-donna offense would show up the real
workhorses on the team.

Within five minutes fantasies of killing
Tyler Harris started to override his good deed. The jerk barked
orders as if he’d been named union boss on a road construction
crew. Flipping Harris off, Zach stomped to the opposite side of the
house and away from the QB. Several minutes later, his defensive
players started showed up in several big-ass trucks and armed with
lawn tools. They gathered round, waiting for instructions from
their captain.

“We’ll start on this side, they’re starting
on that side.”

“Yeah, and we’ll meet in the middle.” Harris
popped out from behind an overgrown Arborvitae like a fucking fairy
in a Disney movie.

“Middle? Hell, we’ll be three-quarters of
the way down the back of the house before you ever turn the
corner.”

“Is that a bet?” Harris cocked his head and
grinned.

“Yeah it is.”

“All right, I’ll bet we reach the back
French doors before your guys.”

“What does the winner get?”

“The loser buys beers for the other
squad.”

“And steak,” LeDaniel, the rookie defensive
end, ate as much as the entire defensive line.

“You’re on.” Harris slapped LeDaniel on the
back. “Hope you’re not too hungry, buddy.”

“What if one side cheats and doesn’t do a
good enough job?” Brett, the goody-two-shoes backup QB, always
thought about shit like that. Obviously, his mama never told him
that life wasn’t always fair.

Kelsie stepped forward. A strand of blond
hair stuck to her flushed cheeks. “I’ll be the judge of that.
Everything needs to pass my inspection.”

Zach groaned but Harris grunted his consent,
then turned to his guys. “Hey, dipshits, quit gawking. Let’s get to
work.” He stalked off with his posse.

Glancing at Kelsie, Zach stifled the odd
urge to wrap his arms around her and kiss the hell out of her. He
loved her messed up like that. He itched to pluck the hair off her
cheek and wrap it around his finger. Beads of sweat moistened her
forehead and made him fantasize about better ways to get her
sweaty. Much more pleasant ways.

Kelsie leaned toward him. The scent of
magnolias and grass clippings drifted to his nostrils. “Good luck,
Zach.” She spoke quietly so only he could hear, her words letting
her allegiance be known.

“You want me to win?” A warm, content
feeling curled up in his core like an old hound in front of a
fire.

“It’s your place, after all.” Her gaze met
his, suddenly all cool and distant, as if she needed to push him
away before he got too close.

“Yeah.” He stared down at his feet, pushing
a rock around with his shoe. “I should’ve taken better care of it.”
He was the worst kind of fool. Of course, she wanted him to come
out on top, it would be to her advantage.

“Well, you will from now on. At least until
the gala. I’ll see to it.”

Why did her statement strike equal parts of
hope and fear in his heart? Because she’d be underfoot or because
he wanted her underfoot? “I’m sure you will.”

“We’ll start on the inside once we finish
the outside.”

Zach balked. Invading his privacy outside
his house was one thing, but tramping into his house and seeing how
he lived happened to be another. He didn’t want Harris knowing
anything about his personal life. It’d give the ass an opportunity
to mine for weaknesses. “I’ll take care of the inside.”

Kelsie raised one eyebrow. “You will?”

He thought about that one. “You can help
me.”

“It’ll take more than you and me to get this
place cleaned up and in shape and keep it that way.”

“Then get some friends to help, but not the
entire team. No way in hell. And not Harris.”

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do.” Kelsie
strode off, as if he’d hit a nerve or something.
Women.

Zach sighed and raked his fingers through
his tangled hair. He hated dealing with stuff like haircuts, but he
hated his hair long, too. He’d just as soon shave his head if it
weren’t so time-consuming. The last time he’d tried it, he’d just
about bled out from several nicks on his head. Not a pretty sight
unless it was Halloween.

“You got it bad, buddy.”

Zach jumped as Tomcat snuck up beside him.
“Dammit, quit surprising me like that.”

“If she didn’t have you all tied up in
knots, you’d have heard me.”

“She doesn’t have me tied up in
anything.”

Tomcat barked out a loud snort. “Hey, it’s
me. I know you, bro. You’ve met your match with the pretty lady.
She’ll be leading you around by your dick in no time.”

“Just cuz you like to be pussy whipped,
doesn’t mean I do.” Tomcat married last fall to a fireball of a
woman who put him in his place and loved him dearly. Zach served as
best man. Actually, he adored LaShonna. It took a strong woman to
tame a man like Tomcat. LaShonna was a strong woman, very
strong.

“Yeah, well, stallions get corralled every
day.”

“And they get castrated every day. Not this
stud.”

“Suit yourself.” Tomcat watched
appreciatively as Kelsie moved from place to place, making
suggestions on hedge trimming and directing a couple rookies with
pieces of a broken concrete fountain to a nearby dumpster—a
dumpster which hadn’t been there a few hours ago. The rookies fell
all over themselves to impress her.

Zach narrowed his eyes, not liking how his
friend was looking at Kelsie. “You’re married.” He growled out a
reminder.

“Hell, I know, but a man can look. She’s a
fine one. You should avail yourself of her charms, my man.”

“I’m not availing myself of anything when it
comes to that woman. We have a history. I might be dense, but I’m
not a total idiot.”

“A man-eater, huh?”

“Well, look at her. What do you think?”

“I think she looks mighty fine. If I were
you, she could eat my manhood anytime she pleased.” Tomcat elbowed
him.

Zach sighed and turned his attention to the
crow bitching at them from a bow of the nearby red cedar tree. “You
know crows are actually good-looking birds, but they’re scavengers
eating off the misfortunes of others.”

“Can’t judge a bird by its feathers.”

“Nope, you can’t. The ugliest birds turn out
to be the most useful, eating their weight in bugs and mosquitoes
rather than eating garbage and bitching to the high heavens.”

Tomcat raised one black eyebrow. Chuckling,
he turned away and went back to work.

With a frustrated groan, Zach hacked at the
overgrown rhododendron blocking the front windows of his house.

“Cut it down to a few feet off the ground.
Open up the house to the sunlight.” He didn’t need to look to know
Kelsie stood beside him. His body told him about two seconds before
she opened those ruby red lips of hers.

“What sunlight? This is Seattle.”

She laughed, a wonderful, heart-enslaving
sound. Zach attacked the tree with the frustration of man who saw
paradise and knew he couldn’t have it because it was an illusion
painted by a deceptive beauty with all the charm of a southern
belle and the deviousness of a scam artist.

* * * * *

Later that evening Zach stood on his porch
with his hands propped on his hips and surveyed his small kingdom
in wonder. His yard bore no resemblance to the overgrown jungle
it’d been just this morning. One-hundred-year-old giant, feral
rhodies had been pruned back to manageable sizes. Trimming the
bottom boughs on several huge cedars opened the view up
considerably. Hell, he had a view he didn’t know he had. Blackberry
vines no longer wound their way through the yard like coils of
barbed wire on a battlefield.

He had to hand it to Kelsie. When she set
her mind to something, she worked like a stubborn dynamo. Her
willingness to get her hands dirty and jump right in with the rest
of them earned his grudging respect.

Zach shook his head.
Women
. No man in
his right mind could figure them out, and no man wanted to dig
through the mysterious recesses of their minds, especially not a
devious mind like Kelsie’s.

He cringed as he recalled her last words
this evening as he walked her out to her car.
Tomorrow we start
on the house.

No way in hell did he want anyone poking
through his house. He guarded his privacy like vicious dogs guarded
a junk yard. No one knew the real Zach, not even Tomcat. This house
was his sanctuary. He didn’t want Kelsie or anyone else sissifying
it to make it acceptable to some hoity-toity group of millionaires.
He didn’t give a shit what they thought, but he did give a shit
about staying on the team.

Well, crap. What the heck choice did he have
but to tidy up one room and limit the party to that area? Yeah,
right. He could see Harris now. The ass would conduct tours of the
worst parts of Zach’s house just to embarrass the hell out of
him.

He couldn’t win for losing.

CHAPTER 8

Kelsie pulled up in front of the old house
converted into one-room apartments, where she’d rented a room two
weeks ago. While the place wasn’t exactly the Ritz, it beat living
in her car.

For three days she’d slogged through Zach’s
treasures, which consisted of garbage most thrift shops would
reject. She’d never seen so much junk in her life. She collected
enough pop cans to fund an entire school’s extra-curricular
activities for a year. The guy never threw anything away. She’d
make him watch that television show on hoarders and hopefully scare
him straight. His aversion to using a garbage can definitely
required an intervention.

Picking up Scranton, she mounted the creaky
front steps and opened the flimsy front door. Trudging to the top
of the stairs, she turned right down a narrow hall to the one-room
studio smaller than her closet back home and a lot less
elegant.

She stopped dead. All of her worldly
belongings were stacked in a heap outside the door. A clasp on the
door was locked with a hefty padlock. A note taped to the door
ruffled in the breeze from a nearby open window.

She tore the note from the door and read it.
She’d been evicted for not paying the rent due a few days ago. It
had to be a mistake. She’d paid for a month.

“You need to leave this building now.
Tenants only.” Her former landlady stood near the stairwell,
huffing from the exertion of climbing the steep stairs. Sweat
dripped off her double chin and settled in the cleavage of her
enormous boobs.

“Mrs. Tremain, there’s been some mistake. I
paid a month’s rent.”