King (Maine Silver Foxes #1)

Chapter 2

K ing

King maneuvered the winding country road with the ease of someone who had been traveling it for years. As a native of Coldwater, he had spent nearly his entire life there, with the exception of the years he’d spent serving in the military. He was familiar with every single curve and pothole in the rough, poorly paved road that hadn’t changed much since the hardtop had been laid down. Because of the weather, roads were difficult to maintain in the north.

At Elba Picket’s driveway, King almost sideswiped her battered, rusty mailbox. How many times had the damn thing been knocked down and reset by now? The town tried to convince her to get her mail from the post office, but since she lived alone and didn’t drive, she wouldn’t hear of it. She was as stubborn as they came. Fortunately, Ben from the country store was kind enough to deliver groceries to her house once a week, and he’d offered to deliver her mail as well.

As he approached the logging road, King slowed down so he could turn into the woods. His family had been loggers on Stoney Ridge Mountain for generations. Ironically, King was now the only one in the family working at and running the company. His brother hadn’t been interested in the family business and had moved down south where his wife’s relatives lived.

Most of King’s crew were ex-military and friends from his time in the Marines. Cody, Lincoln, Max, and Cramer were all around his age, and had been happy to relocate and call Maine their home once their service careers had ended. Of the five of them, Cramer was the only one who was still married. His wife Joy was a sweet, caring woman who often brought them lunch during the workday.

King had been married too, for twenty-four years, and it had ended in disaster. His ex had made it her mission to cause trouble any time she could because she wanted to get back together after deciding she’d had a better life with him in it. Hah! No way in hell would he take her back after all the shit she’d caused him. She’d made her bed now she could sleep in it alone.

Marriage wasn’t something he aspired to do again. At fifty he’d embraced the single life, devoting his time to work, his daughter, and his granddaughter. That was enough for him. Well, that and the occasional hookup. He liked sex as much as the next guy.

King navigated his four-wheel drive through the mud, tree branches, and rocks that made up the makeshift road that led out to the logging site. Despite the fact that King’s body was being jostled as he drove through the rough terrain, he barely noticed it, trying instead to focus on not biting down on his tongue again, as he’d done a few weeks before. In the distance, he could see the clearing where the other loggers’ trucks were parked, except for Cody’s.

Where the hell was he?

Just as King pulled up next to Lincoln’s Jeep and turned off his engine, he spotted a splash of color dashing into the forest to the left of them. It was too fast and too small to be one of his men. “Damn,” he muttered, knowing that whoever it was, they were heading straight for the trees that were about to be cut down. He figured it wouldn’t do any good to shout out to stop them as they were sure not to hear him over the chainsaws.

Grabbing his radio, he cursed when he saw that it was dead. Fuck! There was no time to lose. He had to get moving, so he raced in the direction that he’d seen the flash of color disappear into the woods. It had been thirty fucking years since King had last played quarterback, but there was something about the fear of danger that could give you a burst of speed and power. He jumped over fallen branches, sprinting through the trees as the buzz of the chainsaws grew ever louder.

At last, he saw movement again and picked up his pace, thankful for his five years of sobriety and weekly workouts. Ahead of him, a long blond ponytail flew out behind a woman—she was calling out a name—but his only thought was catching her before she reached the danger zone.

King suddenly clamped his hand on the collar of her shirt, halting her mid-flight. He whirled her around to face him, brown eyes meeting startled blue. It had been years since he’d laid eyes on Mia, but the years had been kind. More than kind. She was a fucking knockout.

He didn’t have time to appreciate the curvy woman she’d turned in to though.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he yelled over the ruckus. Mia looked at his lips as if she was watching them form the words, and King noticed a small smile grace her features. Did she recognize him? Probably not—it had been ten years since they’d last seen each other, and then it had just been in passing. But even so, he could not help but be drawn to her full, pouty lips and the dimples that accompanied them when she smiled. How had he forgotten those cute dimples?

He snapped his gaze back up to hers, still too enraged to acknowledge his unexpected reaction to her.

“My dog ran off!” she shouted back at him, tugging against his grasp. “I was trying to chain her up, and then she just got away from me.”

King scowled as he pointed out the danger of her current situation. “Do I look like I give a shit? My crew is cutting down trees in this area! You want to kill yourself?”

She surveyed their surroundings before answering, “No, I’m nowhere near where they’re working.” She pulled once more against his grip. “Precious is getting away from me.”

King couldn’t believe he was having a conversation with this woman about a dog named Precious, while trees were being cut down around them in plain sight. He could hear enormous branches snapping off trees and slamming to the ground with a resounding thud. At any moment, a tree could fall on them and crush them into the earth. In frustration, he grabbed hold of her flannel shirt in case she got it in her head to take off again.

“Let’s go.” He was done trying to reason with her, irritated that they were wasting time.

“No.” She dug in her feet and refused to budge.

With no other options, King did the only thing that made sense at the moment. A man who chose action over words, he bent down, picked her up in a fireman’s hold, and carried her out of the area to his truck. Mia protested loudly as he walked away with her dangling over his shoulder. King grinned, but he couldn’t make out her words until they were further away from the noise.

“Put me down, you neanderthal! You can’t do this!”

Despite the situation, King found himself laughing at her frustration. “Looks like I just did,” he responded once he set her down.

His gaze raked over her. She had rosy cheeks, blue eyes with a hint of fire, and a mouth that sent arousal surging through his blood. Even though she was beautiful, King knew better than to get distracted by lust while there was danger all around them. But damn, it was hard not to when there was a little spitfire facing off with him.

Some of her long hair had come loose. She brushed it back from her face and then slammed her hands on her hips. King watched her size him up. He was a big man, and he probably looked like Paul Bunyan in his work gear of old blue jeans, heavy boots, and a flannel shirt. His reddish-brown hair was longer than he usually wore it, but then so was his beard. The only thing missing from his typical uniform was his leather tool belt.

“You’ve got some nerve putting your hands on me! I could have you arrested for assault!”

He arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms, noting how she looked at his muscles straining against his rolled-up sleeves. “Really? And yet you’re the one trespassing on private property.”

Hands still on her shapely hips, she faced King with a fierce glower. “You laid your hands on me, so I think that trumps trespassing.”

“I only put my hands on you to keep your headstrong self from getting hurt,” King said as he tried but failed to keep his eyes off her heaving tits. They were spectacular. “Trust me, if I were trying to grope you, you’d know it.”

She snorted in response. But before either one of them could say anything else, Cramer emerged from the woods holding a squirming, muddy canine in his arms. It was then that King noticed the chainsaws had stopped buzzing.

“What the hell is that?” he asked gruffly.

“It looks like a dog,” Cramer answered with a smirk. His questioning gaze shot back and forth between King and Mia.

Mia huffed and went over to him and took the pup in her arms.

“More like an oversized rat,” King commented with a hint of amusement while still glaring at Mia.

“She’s a chihuahua,” Mia said without turning around. She continued walking away.

“Where do you think you’re headed off to?” King said sternly. “We’ll give you a ride home.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t need a ride home. It’s not far.”

King could hear the stubbornness in her tone. He frowned and watched the sway of her curvy ass for a minute, feeling his pants tighten. Hell. She was full of sass and covered in mud and he was getting a hard-on.

Great. Just fucking great. His body reminded him that he hadn’t gotten laid in a while.

The gentleman in him wouldn’t let her walk home. Cramer cleared his throat, a smirk on his face revealing that he had noticed King’s predicament. King gave him a glare and returned his gaze to Mia. She was picking her way through the muck and mire as if she weren’t already covered in it, holding on to her tiny dog as if it was her prized possession.

Hell, maybe it was. His ex had a purebred French-mini-Bulldog that had cost a small fortune—his money, mind you—that she’d got in the divorce, and she treated the damn thing like a queen.

He pressed his lips when Mia stumbled and nearly fell.

“Mia!” She would know now that King had recognized her.

Did she remember him?