Page 13 of Liberated By the Logger

That’s when she launches one of my duck decoys at my melon. I stoop in the nick of time, avoiding getting beaned in the head. The decoy soars over my head, shattering into a million wood splinters against the back of the stone shower.

Fucking hell! Who did I willingly bring into my house?

That’s what I get for bringing an earth-loving hippy home with me. She probably woke up choosing violence after taking one look around my log cabin. It’s like a Ponderosa Pine graveyard for a tree hugger like her.

The saying, “No good deed goes unpunished,” is biting me on the ass today. The woman is a menace.

My head whips around in time to see the tiny woman racing from the bathroom, shrieking like a feral cat battling for territory.

Shit! Is this unhinged woman going to destroy more of my property? Not if I can help it.

Not caring anything about my modesty, I lumber after her with my cock and balls swaying.

In the bedroom, she runs to the other side of my bed to avoid me. She faces me head on, her jittery body language showing she’s ready to spring at any second.

Throwing my hands out by my sides, Steve Irwin style, I attempt to lull this wild lady into submission.

“Whoa there, darlin’! You need to calm your fine ass down.”

She startles at my words, leaping onto the bed with a terrified squeak as I round the front of the footboard. Using the word “fine” to describe her backside probably wasn’t the wisest choice, given she probably considers me a sexual deviant.

“It’s okay. You’re safe with me.”

“Bullshit!”

“I’m serious.”

With my palms up, I take a tentative step toward the bed. She must see what I do as some sort of threat. It’s the only explanation for what she does next.

My unruly houseguest reaches down, grabbing one of my pillows before whipping it at me. It hits me full in the face, doing nothing to stop me, but doing a damn good job at irritating me further.

This woman’s aim is too damn precise for her own good. Pray I keep her from finding something heavier to launch at me.

With a huff, I snap. “You need to knock it the fuck off.”

“Stay back,” she warns with a tremble in her voice. Another pillow is in her clutched hand—cocked and ready to come my way.

How dare she act like I’m the threat? I’m not the one chucking shit at her head.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, ya damn woman.”

Her eyes narrow, looking at me like I’m trying to pull the wool over her eyes. “If you don’t intend to hurt me, why are you coming at me looking angry and fully nude?”

Huh. She has a point. If a massive, exposed dude was coming my way, I’d panic too.

An apology is on the tip of my tongue when I recall the only reason I’m naked in front of her is because she walked in on me. She invaded my privacy—I’ve got shit to apologize for.

“Hey sweetheart, here’s a lesson for you. Showering 101: You strip down. I wasn’t expecting company to waltz into the bathroom while I was using it,” I accuse tersely, heat creeping up my neck. “And for the record, most people would be mad if someone threw a solid wood sculpture at their head. I spent weeks carving out that mallard.”

Her pale cheeks flush bright pink before she shakes her head. “It doesn’t explain why you’re still naked.”

At the mention of my nudeness, I cup myself with one hand, barely concealing my junk. Hopefully, this will be enough to calm her spastic ass down until I’m dressed. Not to mention, I’m worried my head on my shoulders is not the only head she’ll target on her violent spree.

“You didn’t exactly give me time to slip on pants. I was too worried about what else you might hurl at my noggin if I didn’t intervene.”

“The only reason I threw something at you was because you came out of the shower and advanced on me. You startled me!”

She was startled? Isn’t that rich coming from my bathroom creeper?