DEEP CUT (Men of the Woods Book 2) Read online

  DEEP CUT

  ___________________________________

  By

  Dani Wyatt

  Copyright © 2019

  by Dani Wyatt

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places,

  events and incidents are either the products

  of the author’s imagination

  or used in a fictitious manner.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

  is purely coincidental.

  www.daniwyatt.com

  Cover Credit PopKitty

  Editing Nicci Haydon

  A NOTE TO MY READERS:

  I appreciate every one of you.

  Dedicated to flannel and beards and

  bark in your underwear.

  For Pixie for reminding me

  Wishes do come true.

  GET

  FREE exclusive short stories and epilogues!

  No spam!

  NEWSLETTER

  Stalkers welcome.

  Sordid fun and other dirty shenanigans

  FOLLOW ME ON FACEBOOK

  LET’S BE FRIENDS

  Dani Wyatt on Amazon

  Now, let’s get on with the show…

  Chapter One

  Melody

  You know that feeling…life is just humming along. Things seem to just fall into place.

  One minute you’re getting high on eighties music and making the hard choices in life, like should I trim an inch off my hair or two? Bangs or no bangs?

  You are just so sure you are one of the lucky ones. Life has smiled upon you and you are walking on sunshine.

  Whoooaaa Oh Oooooo…

  Yeah, I know that feeling.

  You know what else I know?

  In the immortal words of Styx…Welcome to the grand illusion.

  The sound of party goers outside laughing and talking drifts through my window as I hunker down in my bedroom, frozen with anxiety.

  Three months ago my mom left my dad, emptying the bank accounts and telling my dad she was sorry, but she needed to live her most ‘authentic’ life. She took off to a meditation retreat in Bali with a yogi named Greg.

  The next two weeks, I watched my father turn into a zombie. Moving through the days, talking to lawyers, barely acknowledging the fact that I’d just lost my mother. In a whirlwind, we packed up our life in London, where my mom was from, and moved back to Roanoke, Michigan, where my dad’s parents’ estate sat empty.

  Seems Mom did a number on the finances before she took what was left and went to find herself. Dad had no choice but to move us back here and try to start over. Turns out, for all our luxurious living, in the end it was my mom’s trust fund that financed most of it. My father’s job as a financial consultant was successful, but not enough to bring us the kind of lifestyle we enjoyed—especially in a city like London.

  I hear my father laughing outside, then his voice above the rest slurs as he announces the hot tub is now clothing optional. Yeah, hot tub, swimming pool, tennis courts…there’s money on both sides of my family tree. This house is nice. Well, more than nice actually. I had no idea it was even here.

  Grandpa was a bit of a lumber baron back in the day, and also owned a lot of the land around here. They were the elite of this area and traveled and lived a fairly posh life for this part of the world.

  Seems my grandparents had a bit of a thing for the palaces of Europe, because that’s basically what this is. It’s a bit run down from sitting empty for a years, but that doesn’t bother me. There are also things about it I find comforting.

  For a start, it’s surrounded by dense forest on three sides and the structure is stone with big rooms, high ceilings and musty furniture, and that feels a little magical to me. Straight out of a fairytale, sitting waiting for something to happen.

  Before all this, my parents kept me on a tight leash. They both seem to have found their inner wild child now though. Mid-life crises, I suppose, leaving me to try to maneuver a new town, new home, new school and new life without much guidance.

  “Melody.” I hear Cynthia’s voice before I see her standing in the doorway of my room where I’m hiding out. She sees me sitting and fists her hands on her narrow hips. Her yellow bikini is soaked and her blonde hair hangs wet over her shoulders. “You okay in here?”

  “Sure.” I answer. I guess I am. At least I’m not half in the bag and wondering what STD’s I may have picked up from the hot tub.

  Actually, that’s not fair. I like Cynthia. I just don’t like not having my mom.

  “Come on out. Your dad sent me in to find you.”

  What makes you think I want to come out and hang around a bunch of drunk assholes my parents’ age?

  Cynthia was Dad’s girlfriend from high school, and they hooked up just a few days after we moved back. This part of the world is nothing like what I’m used to. It’s a lumber town, with logging trucks rumbling down the main drag toward the interstate and no sign of a Starbucks anywhere. But, I don’t hate it, I’m just not used to it.

  God, I’m turning into such a brat.

  “I’m fine.” I look back down at the open book in my lap and pretend to be engrossed. It’s Saturday night and I’m hiding in my room. My one friend, Ginger, said she would come over, but I haven’t heard back from her and honestly, it’s fine with me.

  “Your uncle just got here.”

  Fire races through my veins and the words on the pages blur.

  The only thing I’ve looked forward to since we moved back is Uncle Cain. I’d never met him before we moved back. He and Dad weren’t that close and lived such different lives. My grandparents adopted my father after trying to conceive for years. Five years later, by some miracle my grandmother got pregnant with Cain. So, they aren’t blood brothers. But he’s still my uncle and the thoughts I keep having about him, well… I know they are wrong.

  The vision of Uncle Cain the first time I saw him is seared into my brain. His incredible, hard body in a flannel shirt and blue jeans as he towered in the doorway to the kitchen. Black beard along his jaw and a face that looked like it was carved from ice and darkness. Forearms as thick as my thighs and boots still encrusted with dirt from the other world in which he lives.

  As I drew closer, his scent sealed my fate; an aphrodisiac like fresh cut wood and the night air. Things happened inside me I didn’t understand.

  When my father told me he was a lumberjack, I’d laughed. I thought he was kidding. I didn’t think that was a real thing anymore. I was wrong. And if ever there was a poster child for the sexy lumberjack industry, Uncle Cain is it.

  Every day since, I’ve thought of him. Remembered how he moved through the house with me following behind, as he and Dad reminisced about growing up here.

  He barely looked at me that day and I understand why. I’m just a child in his eyes.

  Still, it hasn’t stopped me from doing little things to try to get his attention. I can’t seem to put two words together when he’s around. He’s come over a couple times a week since that first day. My dad keeps throwing these parties, inviting people from town or his new job as Finance Manager at a local car dealership, and he invites Uncle Cain every time.

  I’m sure he’s here for the women. Beautiful, grown women float around the house giggling and jiggling, making me understand for the first time in my life what jealousy feels like.

  I keep myself covered most of the time. I�
��m a little rounder than most of the popular girls my age and I haven’t yet grown into a woman’s body like the ones I see strutting around at the parties.

  When I know Uncle Cain is coming around though, I do different things to my hair. I tried a cute pair of cut offs, a little sundress. But still he barely grunts my way.

  At the parties, he mostly sits off by himself and besides the occasional few words with Dad doesn’t speak to anyone.

  I’ll walk by, trying not to look at him or seem too obvious.

  He looks like he could tear down a tree with his bare hands, heft the thing across his shoulders and carry it down the mountain.

  My friend from school, Ginger, has been around a few times during Dad’s parties and has seen Uncle Cain. I can’t tell her what I feel around him, but when she sashays in her purple bikini out by the pool near him, I want to claw her eyes out.

  Cynthia starts to turn and walk out of the room, then swivels her head and adds, “Oh, and Ginger’s here with a group of kids from school, asking for you. You really need to come out and be social, Melody. Time to stop sulking and get back in the land of the living.”

  Gawd. I knew Ginger was probably coming. But my father threatened to invite some of the kids from my school, I just didn’t think he’d actually follow through. See, the thing is, today is my nineteenth birthday, even though I’m still in high school here in the states.

  According to the testing I had to take when we got back, I needed to complete a few more classes in order to get my high school diploma. Most of the other kids in my senior class are just turning eighteen, so it’s made it even harder to fit in. They see me as the stupid girl who’s still in high school when she should have already started college.

  So much for my fancy English private school education.

  This ‘party’ is my birthday party, not that you could tell from the lack of a birthday cake, gifts or anything resembling a get together that would interest me.

  I summon some motivation and slip on my flip flops, putting my book down and making my way toward the celebration.

  The sun is hot as I come out the back door onto the patio and glance over the fence at the pool. Adults are sitting on the edge and splashing in the water while my dad stands over by the gate entry of the pool, talking to Uncle Cain.

  When I look over, my stomach flips at the sight of him standing there. His eyes move my way and stick on me for a long moment, then he nods, running a powerful hand over his face and down his jaw.

  “Melody!” I look over to see Ginger waving me her way, where she’s standing with about ten other kids I barely know from school.

  So embarrassing. It’s like having to get your cousin to take you to prom. Having my dad try to get some friends here for a birthday party that looks more like an evening at the Playboy Mansion. What could possibly be worse?

  I look back to see Cain looking over at the group, ignoring my father who is talking to him about something. Cain’s eyes are focused, glaring, before he gives me one more glance then nods back at my father.

  When I give the little group a wave they look around awkwardly. Ginger has grown up here, so she knows a lot of them. I just pray for something less than complete humiliation.

  “There’s food and sodas and stuff over there.” I point toward the cabana. “And if you want to swim, you can change in there too.”

  There’s nods and half smiles and the discomfort in the air is making me nauseous. I give Ginger a look and she rolls her eyes as if to say ‘It’s okay’.

  “Come on.” I hear Bradley Jarrett say, and he tips his head toward the cabana. “Happy birthday, by the way.” He adds as he starts to move that way and the small group falls in step behind, leaving me standing with Ginger.

  “Happy birthday for sure.” She looks over at Uncle Cain and bobs her eyebrows.

  “Stop.” I shake my head, my eyes flitting from Uncle Cain back to her. “He’s my uncle.”

  “Exactly.” Ginger nudges me. “Means he’s not my uncle.”

  I cross my arms and wonder what he and Dad are talking about so intently.

  Ginger gives me another quick elbow. “Let’s go get some food. I’m starving.”

  I look over to see the group from school in the cabana. One of them gets their hands on the stereo and in the next minute, music is blaring, and bodies start moving.

  “Okay, but I’m not dancing.” When Ginger rolls her eyes, I add, “I grew up in England. Believe me, I can’t dance.”

  She laughs. “Okay, okay. At least try to be cool. Your dad called me and asked if I could get some of the kids from school to come. I did. Now, try to be a good hostess and make sure they have fun.”

  Make sure they have fun? This is my party and I’m certainly not having any fun.

  As I follow Ginger, we pass Dad and Cain, and my uncle’s nearly black eyes look wilder than usual. They graze me up and down before he turns my way and Dad works his way back to where there’s a few of his friends whooping it up in the hot tub.

  “Happy birthday.” Uncle Cain’s deep voice sends my belly into a flutter.

  “Thanks.” I pause and Ginger looks back to give me the eye, but she keeps walking.

  “I have something for you.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “I know. I wanted to.” He tips his head toward a patio table and I see a package wrapped in brown paper and a piece of twine.

  We step that way and he picks it up and hands it to me. My fingers are shaking as I take it from his massive hand, but I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

  He not what you would call conventionally handsome I suppose. But, it’s that ‘X’ factor he has. Confidence paired with what would be an ability to kill someone with his bare hands and a body that looks like it could stop a semi makes him almost God-like.

  I unwrap the plan paper and set the box down on the table, pulling the top off. Inside the box is another box, a vintage-y looking, white and gold embossed leather. I lift it out and underneath is a stack of paper, and on the front page it says, “The Wishing Tree”.

  I lift the papers from the box and flip back the first one, seeing the hand-written paragraphs on the beige paper. When I read the first line, I’m lightheaded and engulfed in warmth.

  “Not all stories start with once upon a time.” Cain’s voice comes out deep and serious. “I wrote it for you.”

  My face flushes with heat, the first line echoing around in my mind.

  Some girls are made for wishes and dreams. And others are made for me. She is one of the latter, and if it takes a thousand lifetimes, I’ll follow her through them all.

  “Wow.” It’s all I can manage.

  “You can read it later. It’s just a short story, but I wanted to give you something special.”

  I nod, wishing that first line was about me. “I’m sure it’s amazing.”

  “Not so sure on the amazing part. That’s subjective. Open the other one.” He jams his hands down in his front pockets. This is as close to him as I’ve ever been and his size is even more impressive close up.

  Uncle Cain is a exercise in contrast. He chops down trees for a living but also writes fairytales as a hobby. My dad told me he publishes them under a pen name—one that even my dad doesn’t know—but Uncle Cain has quite a following, which by looking at him you’d never suspect.

  I reach over and flip open the other box, a hand flying to my mouth as I hold back the gasp.

  “It was my mother’s.” He tips his head toward my dad. “Our mother’s, I mean.”

  “It’s so beautiful.” My voice shakes as he steps forward and his hands come to release the gold chain from the velvet background.

  “Lift your hair.” His voice booms and I reach around to hold up my hair as the brush of the pendant glances over my skin, making me shudder.

  Cain secures the chain around my neck, then steps back to look at where the rose gold and diamond locket sits just under the base of my neck.

  My eyes start t
o water. Not just from the gift, but from the way he’s looking at me. Wild and hungry, unlike I’ve ever seen him look at me before.

  “Well.” My dad comes up from behind. “Uncle Cain is spoiling you.”

  “She deserves a little spoiling.” He grumbles shifting his weight around like he’s suffering some discomfort.

  “Okay.” Dad wobbles a little as he crosses his arms, his bathing suit dripping on the cement below, then he looks at me. “So, something’s come up.”

  His eyes move to Cain, then back to me again as a feeling of dread clutches at my stomach. Cain brings a hand to his jaw, rubbing the beard that covers him there.

  “What?” I glance at them both and Cain looks at the ground.

  “Cynthia is going to an auto finance and investors conference in South Haven on Lake Michigan. It’s last minute but the boss gave me the okay to go, so we’re heading out tomorrow.”

  “Oooo…kay.” Confusion spins through me at the odd vibe swirling between the three of us.

  Cynthia is the bookkeeper for the car dealership, so I guess it makes sense for her to be going. But I doubt this is all business and no pleasure, and the thought of them spending a dirty weekend together doesn’t exactly help that nausea building in my stomach.

  “I don’t feel comfortable with you alone in a new town in this big house without anyone to look after you. You also have school and since you don’t drive…I asked your uncle if he’d come here to look after you for a few days. We’ll be back Tuesday, no biggie, right?” His holds his fist up in front of me. When I don’t move, he chuckles, “Don’t leave me hanging…”

  If it weren’t for the goosebumps, I think I might have died at his attempt to sound cool.

  Chapter Two

  Cain

  Every filthy thought I’ve had about Melody in the last two months pounds in my temples and has scorching hot blood flowing into my already painfully hard dick.