Page 4 of Deck the Hauls

Was I putting her out?

“Well, I’ll let the two of you get on with it,” Roz said. “Emily, if you need anything, just let me know.”

“Thanks Roz.”

As Roz headed toward the car, I turned back to Dana. She was staring at me, an inscrutable expression on her face.

I cleared my throat. “Just do whatever you’d usually do, and I’ll be quiet as a mouse. You’ll forget I’m here—unless you want me to help, in which case I’m happy to do that too.”

Dana raised an eyebrow. Was she skeptical about forgetting my presence, or how helpful I’d be?

“So, what’s the first thing on your agenda?” I asked.

“Scouting.” Dana shook her flannel shirt loose.

I furrowed my brow. “Scouting?”

Dana slipped her arms into the sleeves of her shirt. “It’s a walk through the trees to check for damage, pests, and disease. Scouting weekly means that we catch problems early, which is particularly important because we don’t use synthetic pesticides here.”

Dana left the shirt open, the white fabric of her tank top clinging to her stomach still visible. Were her muscles as firm as they looked?

My cheeks heated. Seriously, Emily? I bent my head and rummaged through my bag, hoping to hide my face, which was almost certainly the shade of a beetroot.

I took a deep breath as I pulled out a notebook and pen, fumbling with the pen and almost dropping it.

You need to focus. No ogling. No fantasies.

I jotted down some notes. Weekly scouting to check for damage, pests and disease. It was unlikely to be relevant to my film, but at least writing gave me something to focus on.

“You got all that?” Dana asked.

Was there a teasing tone to her voice? My cheeks heated again.

I finally had a chance to revive my career. The last thing I needed was a distraction in the form of a smoking hot lumberjane of a woman.

CHAPTER THREE

DANA

Oh shit.

Of course, of all the actresses in the world, I’d be saddled with one I actually recognized. Emily Rossi.

Kelsey and I had stumbled onto Harrowgate while scrolling the streaming apps a few months before we broke up, and had binge-watched the first and only season. Emily had been good. Really good. So good that I’d Googled her to see what else she’d done. If my memory was correct, she’d started her career playing a vet in Animal Rescue Hospital, a television drama about a veterinary practice, before she was killed off dramatically by a chimpanzee who had escaped from a zoo. After Harrowgate, she’d starred in one big blockbuster movie, Clique, and then… nothing.

And now here she was, standing in the clearing before me, grasping a pen and notepad, staring at me with big hazel eyes, glossy dark-brown hair framing her heart-shaped face, her cheeks pink. ‘Detective Marianne Hayes reporting for duty.’ My mouth suddenly felt dry. I may have had a tiny crush on her character who, despite being bitter, sarcastic and judgmental, was also intelligent and cared deeply about her job. Two traits I found very appealing. I adjusted my tank top, very aware of just how hot and sweaty I’d gotten during my wood-chopping session. I sniffed. Do I smell?

My eyes dropped to her outfit. Blue jeans, a woolen coat the shade of the dark, rich, green second-year fir needles that ended just above her knees and bright white sneakers. They looked new and spotless. They wouldn’t be either after a morning of scouting. Best to get down to business.

“What size are your shoes?” I asked.

“Eight. Why?”

“Good. Come with me.” I bounded up the back deck of my cabin and opened the door. I yanked two insulated work jackets off the coat rack and picked up my back-up boots from the wooden floor.

“Here, put these on.” I handed her a blue jacket and boots. They weren’t as stylish or pristine as her clothes, but she didn’t seem to mind. “I’ll hang your coat inside.”

“Thanks.” Emily pulled off her coat, revealing a red, figure-hugging cashmere sweater underneath. She handed it to me, then plopped down on the wooden bench to switch shoes.