Page 13 of Challenged By the Mountain Man

He pauses mid-reach for another log and turns to look at me like I've just suggested something completely insane. "Help."

"With the wood. Can I help?"

"You know how to split wood?"

"No. But I can learn."

For a long moment, he just stares at me, and I can't tell if he's considering it or trying to figure out the nicest way to tell me to get lost. Then something changes in his expression, not quite a smile, but close enough that I notice.

"You'll hurt yourself," he says, but there's no real heat in it.

"I'm tougher than I look."

"Doubt that's saying much."

I should be offended. I'm not. There's something about the way he says it... Dry, almost teasing, that makes it feel less like an insult and more like... Taunting, trying to see where my limit is.

"Just show me," I say, stepping closer to the chopping block.

He watches me for another beat, then nods once. "Fine. But when you lose a finger, don't come crying to me."

Chapter 4 - Griffin

She's going to lose a finger.

I can see it already, her standing over the chopping block, axe raised, completely unprepared for the kickback when she misses the center of the log. She'll swing wrong, the blade will glance off, and I'll spend the rest of the evening trying to stop the bleeding while she insists she's fine.

I should send her back to her cabin.

Instead, I hear myself say, "You ever held an axe before?"

"No."

"Great." I pick up a smaller one from the pile. Not the splitting maul I've been using, something lighter that won't take her arm off if she loses control of it. "This one."

She takes it from me, and I watch the way her hands adjust to the weight, the way her shoulders shift as she tries to find the balance. Her grip is all wrong. Her stance is worse. She's holding it like a baseball bat, and if she swings like that, she's going to throw out her back before she even makes contact.

"Stop," I say.

She freezes, looking at me. "What?"

"Everything. Stop everything you're doing."

"I haven't done anything yet."

"Exactly. And you're already doing it wrong."

Her jaw tightens, and I can see the argument forming on her face. Good. I'd rather she fight me than hurt herself trying to prove something.

"Hands lower," I say, stepping closer. "You're choking up too high. It's not a bat."

She adjusts her grip, lowering her hands an inch.

"Lower."

Another inch.

"Lower, Hannah."