Clarissa
I swung the ax, feeling the power ripple through my arms, down my back, through my core, and into my hips, fighting the urge to grunt. The sound that came out of my mouth was much softer, much more feminine than that.
I didn’t split the log down the middle, but I did create a nice crack. One or two more mighty swings and the pieces would be just the perfect size for the hearth. My aim had improved dramatically over the last few months, so I was fairly confident I could pull it off. To be sure, though, I choked up my grip on the handle a little. Doing so would reduce the power, but increase my precision.
“You’ll get more power if you hold it near the end of the handle.”
I didn’t acknowledge the deep male voice of my sinfully gorgeous neighbor, echoing my thoughts. I held fast to the belief that if I ignored him, he would go away. I redistributed my weight, hefted the ax back above my right shoulder, focused on my task, and let loose. It landed exactly where I wanted it to, cleaving the dried maple in two.
I resisted the urge to turn around and smirk in triumph. He might view it as encouragement.
Picking up my two perfectly-sized pieces of firewood, I stacked them neatly on my ever-growing stockpile and reached for the next one.
“Want some help?” he asked.
My aching muscles screamed and whined to take him up on his offer. Travis Maxwell was well over six feet of solid male muscle and broad shoulders. He could probably make short work of the rest of it while I sat back, sipped a cold beer, and watched all those delicious muscles put on a show just for me.
But that would be wrong on so many levels, the most important of which being that I did not want him or his rippling muscles here. Nor his damn fine ass, which was probably the nicest-looking ass I’d ever seen on a man. The man could make a living modeling snug-fitting blue jeans.
“No.”
I balanced the log on the much wider stump - the one that accurately portrayed my wood-chopping learning curve with its many cuts and gashes - and swung. This strike was off-center, but still much improved from when I had first started. Rather than grouse over the fact that I didn’t hit the center line, I adjusted accordingly. This log would become thirds instead of halves, I decided.
I would never sweat the small stuff again.
“If you plan on spending the winter here, you’re going to need a hell of a lot more than that.”
Surreptitiously, I eyed my beautiful stockpile of firewood, geometrically balanced and pretty enough to be featured in some magazine devoted to living in the great outdoors. It had taken me forever to do that much. Discovering that it was inadequate was disheartening, to say the least. My aching back, my throbbing leg, and my calloused and blistered hands agreed whole-heartedly.
The upside was that it was only mid-August. I had plenty of time.
Swing, hit. Swing, hit. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of revealing my disappointment. Let him think I already knew how insufficient it was.
“No one likes a chatty Kathy. Jesus, woman, let a man get a word in edgewise, will you?”
Okay, my lips might have quirked a little on that one, but don’t judge me. Travis Maxwell was a force of nature. Oh, his friendly banter seemed harmless enough, but even the gentlest stream had the ability to carve a path in solid rock, given enough time. I’m a force of nature, too - a great, unyielding glacier. I can’t help it that my neighbor had global warming written all over him.
“Ha! I saw that!” he said in triumph. “You smiled. My job here is done.”
There were no more words of sage advice, no more friendly banter from my neighbor. When I set the ax down and gathered up the pieces to add to my aesthetically pleasing store, he was gone.
I shook my head but allowed myself a small grin. The muscles around my mouth felt awkward, as if they couldn’t quite remember what to do. It made sense. I didn’t smile much these days.
I wasn’t unhappy. On the contrary, I was as content as I’d ever been – on the inside, where it really counted. Solitude didn’t work for most people, but it did for me, and I wanted to keep it that way.
Wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my gloved hand, I drained half of the BPA-free, ecologically responsible, reusable water bottle. I used that as an excuse to tip my head back and glance through half-slitted eyes toward Travis’ neighboring property. There he was, propping a ladder against the side of his cabin. Of course, he chose that exact moment to turn around and wave.
I pretended I didn’t see him, and hoped to hell he couldn’t see the heat infusing my cheeks at being busted. Smug bastard. But geez, if anyone had a reason to be, he did. It was just my luck to move to an isolated piece of real estate with the intent of becoming a modern-day hermit and discover that not only was I not alone, but the only neighbor for twenty miles had to look like that.
I turned and stepped just into the tree line, dumping the rest of my water into the bowl I’d set there. A stray dog had been hanging around the last week or two, and I’d gotten in the habit of putting out food and water for him in the hopes that he would learn to trust me a little. It seemed to be working. The dog, which I had named Ripper, watched me from afar almost as much as my neighbor did.
I didn’t see either Travis or Ripper for the rest of that day, but that wasn’t unusual. Ripper was people-shy and Travis was kind of like a bear, ambling around the mountains, sometimes venturing in for a closer look but primarily keeping his distance.
Oddly enough, though, when I got up the next morning, my wood supply seemed to have mysteriously doubled overnight.
I sighed as I sipped my coffee with my mildly blistered and bandaged hands and looked at the much bigger pile. The additions weren’t quite as neat as mine, and he hadn’t wholly conformed to my “smallest on the left, largest on the right” sizing scheme. But I wasn’t going to complain. It was a nice thing that he did.
I couldn’t openly acknowledge it, of course, but my innate sense of right and wrong would not let his kindness go unanswered. I refilled the dog’s water bowl and put some peanut butter toast and kibble in the one next to it, then went back inside to answer his kindness. I didn’t like feeling indebted to anyone.
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