Dad Bod Snow Job (A Small Town Grumpy Sunshine romance) by Fern Fraser

Author:Fern Fraser [Fraser, Fern]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-12-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

Nico

The sun isn’t even up, but Holly Carter is perched on a stack of pallets with her damn phone, turning my morning work routine into some kind of lumberjack photoshoot.

Not that I checked my reflection in the truck window before getting out. Or spent extra time trimming my beard this morning. And this flannel is clean, but it's not my best one. The fact that it’s the same color that Holly said brought out my eyes last week is a coincidence.

“Little early for social media, isn’t it?” I call out, puffing up my barrel chest like some preening rooster, the buttons of my flannel straining from the effort. Christ, I’m pathetic.

She grins, giving me that sunshine smile that makes my chest tight. “Early morning light is perfect for catching authentic moments. Plus, I have to head to the shop soon.”

Authentic moments. Because nothing is more authentic than pretending I don’t notice Holly filming while I haul trees around like some performing bear. But she’s been here every morning this week, showing up before dawn to work on her “content creation” before heading to her paid job. Her dedication would be admirable if her presence in the work yard wasn’t so distracting.

My lips still burn from yesterday's kiss, that moment replaying every time I close my eyes. She'd been sprawled across my chest in the snow, fearless and warm, and I'd wanted... Christ, I'd wanted everything. But wanting and having are different things, especially when there's twelve years between you. Especially when the woman in question deserves better than a struggling tree farmer with more responsibilities than prospects.

A branch snags my sleeve as I hoist the Fraser Fir. The tree’s weight shifts, forcing me to brace my legs and flex my arms to keep control. Movement catches my eye—Holly leaning forward on her perch, phone raised, capturing my graceless wrestling match with an oversized Christmas tree.

My muscles burn with the effort to make it look effortless. Nothing says professional lumberjack like losing a fight with your own inventory.

“Boss!” Mike’s voice carries across the yard. “Number two saw’s acting up again.”

I set the tree in position, rolling my shoulders. Mike is standing out front of the maintenance shed, holding a commercial chainsaw. Replacing it would cost a month’s worth of profits.

“Don’t run it,” I bark, crossing the yard.

Holly scrambles down from her perch, trailing after me with that phone still recording. I tense, tracking her movement through the equipment-littered yard. One misplaced step in those impractical boots of hers...

“Stay back,” I warn, my voice rougher than intended. “Shop rule—only certified operators near the saws.”

Mike shoots me a knowing look. He’s worked here for fifteen seasons and knows every chainsaw we own inside out. Knows me too well, apparently, given the way his eyes dart between Holly and me.

I pull off my work gloves, tucking them in my back pocket as I take the saw from Mike. “Get the guys started on loading the Harrison order. I’ll handle this.”

“You sure? I could⁠—”

“Already down two workers this season.

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