Read Online Fueling Her Fire by Piper Trace - Free Book Online Page B

prefer cab but the zin will work
better with the spiciness of the chili.”
    She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Okay,” she said
slowly. Interesting. She looked at him with some curiosity. So the
firewood guy knows his wine. Everyone has a hobby .“So, are you
still working at the lumber mill?”
    She ladled chili into the two bowls, trying not to think
obsessively about how not even an hour ago Dylan’s hand had been in her panties,
stroking her to climax. She poured him a glass of wine, hoping her hand was
steadier than it felt, and handed it to him. Their fingers brushed when he took
it and she pulled back a little too quickly and looked away, embarrassed. She
paused and took a gulp of her wine. “So the lumber mill?” she reminded him,
thinking her voice sounded a bit maniacal.
    “No, I quit the mill years ago. I have my own company now.”
He sipped his wine. “It’s good, thanks.” He tipped his glass toward her and
smiled.
    “Oh yes, ‘Dalton Run Reclamation Company’. What is that?”
She put their chili on a tray and nodded toward the living room. He grabbed the
spoons from the counter without her asking him and picked up her wine too. She
set the tray on the ottoman and sat on the couch. He pulled one of the
overstuffed chairs closer to the food.
    “It’s a wood reclamation company. I just do firewood on the
side. The more I learned about wood, the more I realized the beauty of all the
old barns we have in this area. Folks were coming in from out of state and
buying up old wood salvaged from barns and houses. I know all the folks around
here, so now I get them to sell it to me instead and I fix it up to be used
again.” He looked around at the cabin. “You’ve got a lot of great wood in
here—it’d be worth a fortune.”
    She laughed as she glanced around at the worn boards on the
floor and most of the walls—even the vaulted ceiling had the old boards. “This
stuff?” she said in disbelief.
    “Oh yeah, this is chestnut. Most of the wood on the walls is
hand-hewn, from the looks of it. You’ve got a treasure trove here.”
    She furrowed her brow at him. “Who would want these old
boards?”
    “Yuppies like you!” he said with a teasing smile. “There’s a
huge market out there. Rich folks love to get their hands on aged wood with an
authentic, worn appearance. Not only is it beautiful, but buying my old wood
makes them feel like they’re being ‘green’.” He laughed—a warm, resonant
sound—and her stomach flip-flopped as the strength of the attraction she still
had for him swept through her. “ I like it because it helps preserve our
Appalachian heritage.”
    She studied him, not sure if he was joking and then decided
he wasn’t. Interesting. The jock’s gotten deep over the years. She
smiled at him. “So that’s the buzz word then, ‘reclamation’?”
    “Yeah.” He grinned at her.
    “So how does your job keep you out overnight?” she asked in
between bites. It was really good chili.
    “Oftentimes I get a call right before someone’s going to
demolish a place and I’ll only have a small window of time to get in there and
salvage everything I can. Old barns, old houses, stuff like that. Sometimes I
have to work overnight, or at least so late that I’m too tired to drive home.”
He took a sip of wine and eyed the scarlet liquid appreciatively. “Then I
process it—clean it up, get the nails out of it and sand it, depending on the
finish. Then I sell it to custom homebuilders and furniture-makers.” He glanced
up at her, his eyes dancing. “I bet some of those fancy condos in Chicago have
hardwood floors made from the wood of old barns right here in Dalton Run!”
    She laughed and decided she hoped it was true. It was a nice
feeling thinking there was barn wood somewhere in the city, maybe Dalton Run
barn wood. And Dylan probably helped put it there. What a great company.
    He took another bite of chili—his bowl was almost empty—and
looked back up at