Chapter 6

Chapter Six

B arron

I stand at the edge of my land, the woods stretching out in front of me like a damn labyrinth I can't seem to escape. My grip tightens on the handle of the axe, the rough wood biting into my palms. The sun is high, the heat of the day clinging to my skin, but it's not the weather that's making me sweat. It's her. Tamlyn.

I lift the axe, swing it hard into the trunk of the tree in front of me, the sharp crack of wood splitting echoing through the clearing. But even the force of the swing doesn't do a damn thing to put out the fire that's been smoldering inside me since the moment she kissed me. Or maybe I kissed her. Hell, I don't even know anymore. All I can think about is the heat of her mouth on mine, the way her body pressed against me like she was ready to fight and surrender all at once.

I growl under my breath, pulling the axe free from the tree and swinging again, harder this time. What the hell was that? What the hell is she ? I've dealt with plenty of people trespassing on my land before—researchers, hikers, environmentalists. All of them are the same—stubborn, thinking they know more about this land than the people who've lived on it for generations. But none of them ever got under my skin like this.

It wasn't just the kiss. It was everything leading up to it. The way she stood there, defiant, not giving an inch, daring me to make her leave. Her eyes, fierce and unyielding, like she'd burn me to the ground if I pushed her too far. The way she met me, stare for stare, refusing to back down.

I slam the axe into the tree again, my chest heaving. She's nothing but trouble. A woman who values saving a few trees over the livelihood of the people who depend on this land. Someone who would fight me tooth and nail to stop the very work that's put food on my family's table for generations. She's a threat, plain and simple.

But even knowing that, I can't get her out of my head. The way her lips felt against mine, soft but demanding. The way she tasted—like fire and something sweet underneath. My blood heats up just thinking about it, and I swing the axe again, harder than before. It bites deep into the wood, and I grit my teeth, pulling it free.

I wipe the sweat from my brow, my gaze drifting toward the path she'd stormed off down after we kissed. I should forget about her. She's just another distraction, another problem I don't need in my life. I've got enough to deal with—this land, the logging contracts, keeping everything running smoothly. I don't have time for a woman like Tamlyn.

But even as I tell myself that, I know it's a lie. She's in my head, her fire, her fight, the way she challenges me at every turn. It's like she's lit something inside me, something that refuses to burn out no matter how hard I try to douse it.

Women come and go, just like the seasons. They've never been more than passing storms in my life, quick to blow through and leave without much of a trace. Hardly worth getting to know beyond the quick exchange of pleasantries. But Tamlyn? She's not a storm. She's a wildfire, spreading fast and out of control, and the more I try to push her out, the more she seems to take root.

I swing the axe again, the muscles in my arms straining with the force of it. The tree shudders under the blow, but it's not enough. Nothing I do seems to be enough to shake the feeling of her. I've never been the kind of man who lets anything distract him from the work that needs doing. This land has always been my priority—these trees, this mountain. It's in my blood, as much a part of me as the air I breathe.

But now, all I can think about is her. The way she looked at me, like she could see right through me. Like she saw more than just the man who swings an axe for a living. And damn it, I hate that she saw more. I hate that she's gotten under my skin in a way no one else ever has. In a way that keeps me up at night, my thoughts circling on her plump lips and full hips.

I pull the axe back, my grip tightening as I stare down at the tree. What the hell is it about her that's got me so twisted up? Is it the way she stands her ground, even when she knows she's pushing every button I've got? Or is it the way she looked at me when we kissed, like she wanted to tear me apart and pull me closer all at the same time?

I let out a rough breath, dragging a hand through my hair. I know I should stay away from her, keep my focus where it belongs—on the work, on the land. But every time I think I've got a handle on it, she comes crashing back into my mind like a fucking hurricane.

I stand at the edge of the clearing, axe in hand, the rough handle biting into my palm. The steady thump of the blade against the tree trunk should be grounding, but all it does is fuel the fire inside me. No matter how hard I try to lose myself in the familiar rhythm, my mind keeps circling back to her . Tamlyn. Damn her.

The heat of her lips, the way her body pressed against mine—it's like a wildfire, and I'm caught in the middle of it, with no way out. I grunt, slamming the axe harder into the bark, splintering the wood with a sickening crack. It doesn't help. The burning is still there, simmering under the surface, refusing to be quenched.

I wipe the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand, glancing over at the trees she's so damn intent on saving. The irony doesn't escape me—me, the logger, tangled up with the woman who's trying to stop me from doing my job. But it's more than that. She's gotten under my skin in a way I can't shake, and I hate it.

My teeth grind together as I think about the way she looked at me, standing her ground like she was ready to fight me tooth and nail. Most people flinch when I so much as raise my voice. Tamlyn? She didn't blink. Stubborn as hell, that one. But there's something about her fire, something I can't stop thinking about. And it's driving me mad.

I swing the axe again, harder than before, the crack echoing through the clearing. What the hell was I thinking? Kissing her like that. She's trouble. Nothing but trouble.

"Hey! You gonna take out that whole tree before noon, or you just working through your feelings ?" Creed's voice cuts through my thoughts, thick with amusement.

I turn, catching the sight of my brothers—Creed, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed, and Judge, right behind him with that stupid smirk plastered on his face. Both of them look far too entertained by my foul mood.

"Didn't know I had an audience," I grunt, wiping the sweat from my brow.

Creed chuckles. "Word travels fast up here, especially when George caught you mid-argument with that hippie botanist."

Judge shakes his head, laughing. "Man, George swears he saw steam coming out of your ears. Said you were about two seconds from losing your mind."

"George needs to get better glasses," I mutter, leaning the axe against the tree and folding my arms. "I wasn't losing my mind."

Creed arches an eyebrow. "Is that why you've been hacking at that poor tree like it insulted your mama?"

"Thought you didn't care about the trees," I shoot back, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

"Not that one, but the way you're going at it, you'll be chopping firewood by the end of the day." Creed pushes off the tree and steps closer, eyes gleaming with mischief. "So, what's the deal with the hippie?"

"There's no deal," I say, rolling my shoulders. "She's just… she's here doing research. Trying to save a few plants, that's all."

Judge snorts. "A few plants? You sure? George said it looked like you two were about to tear each other's heads off."

"It's not like that," I growl, irritated that they're enjoying this so much. "She's a pain in the ass, that's all. She thinks she can walk onto my land and tell me how to manage it."

Creed and Judge exchange a look, and I know I'm in for it. "Sounds like she's more than just a pain in the ass if she's got you swinging that axe like you're trying to break something other than wood," Creed says, his grin widening.

"She's trouble," I say again, but the words feel hollow. It's not the full truth, and we all know it.

"Oh yeah?" Judge crosses his arms, leaning against the tree, the teasing gone from his tone. "Funny thing is, we've all had our share of run-ins with women like that. The ones who get under your skin, make you crazy."

"And none of you are shacked up," I point out, my voice harder than I mean it to be. "Not a single one of you is married or even close to it. So, don't act like you've got this figured out."

Creed shrugs. "There's a reason for that, Barron. Ain't no good women left around here. Hell, maybe not anywhere."

"I'm not looking to settle down," Judge adds, nodding. "Women are too much trouble, always looking for something more. I'm fine right where I am—no strings, no complications."

Normally, I'd agree. That's how it's always been for all of us. The Steele brothers—famous bachelors of Copper Mountain, never tied down, never interested in anything permanent. But now, with Tamlyn… I don't know. Something about her feels different.

I scowl, rubbing the back of my neck. "Yeah, well, maybe you're right. But this one—Tamlyn—she's not like the others."

Creed's grin fades just a little, his eyes narrowing. "Oh? How so?"

I don't know how to explain it without sounding like an idiot, so I just shrug. "She's… special."