"Why am I not surprised to find you hidden away with your nose buried in a book?" A deep voice whispered in your ear, pulling you back to reality from the story. You couldn't help but smile to yourself knowing without looking exactly who it was leaning over the back of your chair, his mouth poised close enough that his warm breath tickled the skin of your neck.
"You shouldn't be up here," you reminded him in a light tone, "Did anyone see you? Do they know you're here?" Turning slightly in your seat, you closed your book, letting it rest in your lap as you finally looked to the man behind you. The first things you noticed was the smirk under his scruffy muttonchops and the mischievous glint in his eye.
"Not a soul," he replied in a low voice that was barely audible over the noise of the revelers below.
The balcony over the back of the main hall had always been your favorite place to hide in the grange hall during town socials. You could sit by the railing and watch the crowd below as they danced and sang while you enjoyed a book. The space was mostly used for storage, filled with empty chairs and benches that could easily be brought down via the winch and pulley by the edge of the balcony. The only way up was through a small hatch with a ladder which were not easy to spot.
"Anyone know yer up here?" he asked, his accent making your stomach flip as he quirked his eyebrows.
"Yes, my aunt does, and if she knew I was with a man unsupervised, she'd be livid." Your eyes traveled down the column of his neck to his worn flannel shirt. It was unbuttoned enough to reveal a white undershirt and a few curls of chest hair poking over the collar. You could just barely see the glint of the gold chain tucked away, hidden under the layers. Slowly your gaze drifted to his broad shoulders, their expanse defined by the navy blue strap of his suspenders that sat perfectly between his muscles making their size visible through the tartan patterned fabric.
"And what if she knew that man was me?" he querried, watching as your attention wandered.
Slowly you looked back up to his steely blue eyes, trying to hide the playful smile that was tugging at your lips "If that was the case, then I would probably wake in a convent tomorrow." Setting your book to the side, you stood up, facing him fully, "Which is why you should leave. I'll be helping with the delivery tomorrow, I'll see you then." You placed one hand flat on his chest, pushing against him slightly, though he didn't budge. Gnawing on your lip, you fought to keep your face even, trying to make no reaction to the feeling of his hard chest under your palm.
"But I want'd ta see yeh tonight," he asserted, lifting his hand to cover yours as he took a step forward, bowing his head slightly. You felt a dull throb between your legs as his musky scent filled your nostrils. You struggled to stay present while your mind drifted back to the last moment you two had been alone together in the camp's pantry. When he had quickly leaned forward, pecking your lips, stealing your first kiss before turning on his heel to leave.
He had left you dumbfounded, standing still staring at where he'd been. Before that moment the relationship between you and him had consisted of merely flirtatious banter. Though you did find him attractive, you had never expected anything to happen, mostly because you knew how strongly your aunt would object. The moment had been in the forethoughts of your mind since it happened, unable to shake the bubbly sensation in your gut when you remembered the scratchy feel of his facial hair and how it contrasted with his soft lips.
Though you wanted nothing more right now, you knew what was expected of you and being alone with a man did not fall into that category. "What makes you think I wanted to see you?"
"The way yeh biting yer lip," he smirked as he slowly slid his free arm around your middle, his broad hand resting on the small of your back as he urged you closer until your form was pressed hard into him. A shock ran through you at the contact, being pulled into his arms. You couldn't help but blush, very aware of the fact that your breast were also pushed against him. You were sure he could feel every curve of your body along his.
He leaned forward, ghosting past your lips to kiss along your jawbone towards your ear. Raising your other hands to his chest, you wrapped your fingers around his suspenders, drawing yourself against him.
"I really shouldn't be here-," you hiccoughed as he took your earlobe between his lips. "Here alone with you. What if someone saw us?" you finished, trying to stifle your moan.
You could feel him chuckle against your skin at your reaction. Pulling away he wrapped his arms tighter around you, stepping backwards into the shadowy eaves behind the rafters. There, hidden in the dark he pushed you against the wall and finally captured your lips with his. Though you couldn't say it, this is what you wanted. Pulling at his braces you deepened the kiss, parting your lips to grant him access. You moved on intuition, wrapping an arm around his neck as you wrestled with his tongue. You let out an involuntary squeak when he squeezed you tighter, bringing your hips against his as he raised a hand, resting it against the wall along side your head.
He growled while pulling at your lips, his free hand slowly sliding up your side, coming tantalizing close to touching your breast where his grip stalled. Turning away, his head snapped to look over his shoulder and you realize he'd noticed something you hadn't.
"Mignon?" The familiar voice of your neighbor and friend, Adelaide called, using your nickname. "Are you up here?"
"Yes," you choked out, still poised close between him and the wall, though hidden in the shadows. "Yes, I'm just reading."
"Your Aunt Josephine wants to leave, she's been asking for you," Adelaide replied, speaking into the darkness.
"I'll be down in a minute, I've almost finished this chapter," You bluffed, trying to ignore the teasing way he continued to grind his hips against yours.
It isn't until you hear the trap door slam shut that you let out the breath you'd been holding. Instantly he began to move against you, pushing his knee between your legs as he nipped at the skin over your pulse point.
"No," you gasped. "I need to go." It took all of your strength to push him back far enough that you could inch away. He held your gaze as you broke from his grasp, pacing backwards to leave. Biting at your lip, you paused for a second as you watched him. Throwing caution to the wind you stepped forward, quickly pressing your lips to his before turning to leave as he had done before.
The next morning you where early to rise, having barely slept through the night. Vibrating with excitement, you still glowed from the kiss the night before. The memory of the way he pushed you against the wall, hidden in the shadows as he tasted you was on constant repeat, playing again and again in your mind.
You couldn't help but giggle as you climbed down the stairs, lifting your skirt away from your feet to prevent tripping. Pulling your jacket off the hook by the door, you started to fasten the buttons when you heard your Aunt Jo calling your name from the kitchen.
"What a surprise to see you this side of noon. To what do we owe this pleasure?" she stated as you walked into the kitchen. She was seated at the table, the newspaper spread out in front of her with a pair of reading glasses perched on the end of her nose as the maid prepared her breakfast. You couldn't help but smile, even at her backhand comment. You did have some genuine affection for your aunt who'd been kind enough to take you into her home when you were very young. Now widowed, she had never been able to have children of her own and you knew under the cold exterior she could be kind and motherly, though it'd been awhile since you'd seen that side of her.
"Hank the grocer is making a delivery up to camp today, he said I could catch a ride," you explain with a shrug. "I thought I'd help Aunt Ro for a day or two." You waited patiently, watching as her lips pulled into a thin line just how you expected.
"You know I don't like you going up there," she admonished, reaching for her cup of tea. "It was fine when you were younger but you're much too old now to be spending so much time there. You should be looking for a husband, not working," she exhaled sharply through her nose as she studied your appearance, "Though I don't know who would marry you with your hair like that." Finally dropping the act, you let out an exasperated sigh. At least you knew she didn't have any good reason to be mad with you if she was resorting to criticizing the bobbed haircut you got a month or so ago.
"Please, half the men have known me all my life and see me as a daughter," you countered, resting your fists on your hips. "And Aunt Ro wouldn't let anything happen to me. Don't you trust your sister?"
"No, sometimes I do not. She can be too lenient in my opinion." For two people who had shared a womb your Aunts Josephine and Rosemary could not be more different. While Josephine lived by rules, following every step in a recipe to the dot, Rosemary was flamboyant and loud, constantly laughing and singing, ignoring the cooking instructions while dumping whatever she wants into the pot.
When you were little you wished Rosemary had taken you in instead of Josephine, but now you understood how running the main house of a lumber camp left little time to care for a toddler. Thankfully you were always welcomed to visit whenever you pleased, even unannounced, as long as you pulled your weight helping with chores.
Sitting next to Hank on the carriage, you tried to focus on your book. It was a long and tedious ride to the camp which was buried in the forest. You had long since learned that it was best to bring some literature with you knowing Hank wasn't much for conversation, but today, try as you might to focus, your mind kept floating back to the night before, to the way his fingers wrapped around your ribs and so close to your breast.
You completely understood why your Aunt Jo didn't want you to spend time at the lumber camp anymore, and it was that exact same reason why you were excited to go visit. Digger was everything she hated. He was tall, hairy, and usually a few days overdue for a good bath and scrub. In your mind's eye, you could picture the sneer your aunt would make if she ever got close enough to smell him, though there was something about his scent that made you light headed.
Digger also had no mind for manners or subtly, often saying whatever was closest to the surface of his thoughts. Laughing to yourself, you imagined him seated at the long polished dining room table, confused beyond reason as to why there's three forks, two spoons and knives and half a dozen plates set out in front of him, with no idea what any of them were used for. You were certain he'd never been to a dinner party like the ones your aunt hosted.
You knew nothing about his history and never asked, knowing it was courtesy to not press the men in the camp about their previous lives. His accent was wildly different from anything you'd every heard before, and through the grapevine you learned he was originally from Australia, halfway around the world. You wanted to ask him how he came to be here in the woods but every time he was near you any rational thoughts you may have had flew from your mind.
It was already midday when you arrived at camp, and your Aunt Ro had no time for pleasantries, immediately putting you to work watching over the stew as she went to speak with Hank. Afterwards you were set to the task of unloading the next month's worth of food into the pantry and root cellar.
Puffing on a hand rolled cigarette, Digger was lost in thought, bouncing on top of the pile of logs being pulling in on the a horse drawn cart. He'd managed to flag down his pal, the teamster Jean Claude and catch a ride back to camp.
"'Ey, regarde," Jean Claude called, catching Diggers attention with a nudge of his elbow as they broke through the edge of the woods. He whistled and pulled on the reins, slowing the two horses before he pointed across the clearing to the cabin and the grocer's cart next to the entrance. "C'est Mignon," the quebecois indicated with a wink while Digger caught a fleeting glimpse of your skirt as you returned into the main cabin with another crate of potatoes. He couldn't help but smile, suddenly more anxious for the day's work to be done with.
You groaned as you stood up, listening to your back crack while you stretched. Straining from the cramped, bent over position you had held while stacking the lower shelves. Lifting the empty crate you turned to exit the small store room. Letting out a small yelp you nearly dropped the wooden box, surprised by the large man in the doorway.
"Sorry, luv," Digger chuckled as he tucked something silver away into his pocket, "Didn' mean ta scare yeh. I would've said hello, but I was distracted by the view." He smirked as you blushed, realizing he was referring to watching you bent over from behind. With a roll of your eyes, you stepped to the side, trying to move around him. He kept even with you, quickly moving to block your path.
"Digger, please," you requested as you moved the other way and he followed.
"I like hearing you say that," he replied in a low voice, watching as you bit your lip in reaction.
"I need to finish my chores," you stated, trying to give him a serious look. He relented, leaning back against a column and letting you pass. Walking into the main part of the dingle you found the last crate next to the entrance. Noticing there was no sign of the grocer's carriage and a light snow was starting to fall, you lifted the full crate you turned to your aunt to question what was going on.
"Hank was eager to leave before the snow picked up," Rosemary explained as she tended to the stew on the cook stove, "I told him you'd be fine here for the night." She barely looked to you, focused on her task as you returned to the pantry.
Digger remained leaning against the post when you entered the room, crossing to the shelf where the jars of preserves went.
"Yeh stuck here for the night?" he asked after a moment of silence, taking a few steps closer to where you knelt, organizing the jars.
"So it would seem," you replied, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he unscrewed the top of the small square flask he held before lifting it to his lips.
"It'd be a shame if yeh were trapped here for a few days because of the storm," You couldn't help but notice the forced casual air to his voice. You didn't have to look to see his smirk. Putting away the last of the preserves, you stood to face him.
"It seems to me that you don't think that would be as much of a tragedy as you suggest." Biting at your inner cheek, you tried to hide the coy smile that was tugging at the corners of your mouth while you watched him take another drink. "What's that?" You inquired, stepping closer, lifting the flask from his hands. Taking a sniff, you immediately recognized the stinging smell of grain alcohol.
"Nothin' yeh'd like darl," he grinned, watching the way your face wrinkled at the fumes of the drink. Catching his eye, you took his words as a challenge and lifted the flask to your lips. The booze had barely touched your tongue when you began to cough and sputter. Digger let out a boisterous laugh, watching you lose your composure as he took back the flask.
Wiping the tears from your eyes, you turned away from him, embarrassed as you tried to catch your breath. He continued to chuckle, stepping closer behind you and placing his hand flat on your back and rubbing across your shoulder blades. Your face flushed at the contact as you began to have another coughing fit, this time spurred by your embarrassment. You tried to move away again, bracing one hand on a shelf while you covered your mouth with the other. He stayed close, letting his hand drop further down your back, along your spine. Your stomach flipped at the sensation, you could feel the warmth of his palm through the cotton of your blouse while his hand drifted lower, nearer to your hips.
"Careful," he teased as you took deep, shaky breaths, finally calming down and facing him. You stepped away as he moved in, backing up until you bumped into the shelves behind you. You watched him as he advanced, resting one hand on the untreated wood board next to your shoulder while his tongue darted out from under his mustache, wetting his bottom lip.
A nervous but exciting energy coursed through you as he held your gaze. Tentatively, you reached out, resting your hand on his upper arm when he bent forward. He slowly closed the distance between the pair of you until he was near enough that you could smell the tobacco smoke still on his breath.
"Mignon!" Aunt Ro called from the other room, her voice carrying through the open doorway. "When you're done in the pantry, I need a hand in the dingle!"
Digger pulled back, standing up straight with his jaw clenched. It was written on his face that he wasn't happy but all the same he stepped aside.
"Sorry," you squeaked as you squeezed past him to help your aunt with dinner.
The late night meal was the same affair as always. The men were loud, both laughing and arguing as they devoured the stew. After eating, half the group bundled up and headed off to their small cabins, or into the the large barracks just off the dingle. You helped your aunt finish wash the pots before she retired, heading to the other side of the log cabin to the room she shared with her husband, John.
It was nearing midnight as you walked up to the last few men seated around a table, playing cards next to the dying fire. You stood between Digger and Jean Claude, resting your hand on the back of the latter's chair to spy what he had in his hand.
Jean Claude had been working at the camp since you were 10 and was the one who'd given you the nickname 'Mignon'. He first traveled south looking for work so he could afford to build a house for the girl he loved. After five years he had saved enough and returned home. A year later he returned, explaining that she had gotten knocked up and married the father while Jean Claude was away.
Across the table was the McInerney brothers, Peter and James. The pair of whom had been working for your Uncle John longer than you'd been around. Though nearly identical and always together, you had been surprised to learn when you were younger that they weren't actually twins, Peter being a little older than James.
You knew why these were the last men awake, tomorrow they'd be sending the logs down river and none of those around the table where skilled in that. Jean Claude and Digger were both foreign and hadn't grown up learning to walk across the logs, and while they weren't terrible at it, they were much too slow to be useful on the river. The brothers apparently had a fear of the water, you weren't entirely sure why but you'd heard it was from watching their younger sister drown.
"Tu la victoire?" you asked in broken french as you studied Jean Claude's cards.
"Non, I am far from winning," he laughed as you stood up, shifting to look over Digger's shoulder.
"What are you playing?" you asked as you eyed the two piles of cards in the center of the table.
"Gin rummy," Digger stated as James played, placing one card down in the face up pile before drawing another from the opposite stack. "Care t'learn?" he questioned, quirking an eyebrow as he looked up at you.
"Okay-," you began as he quickly pulled you into his lap. You couldn't help but blush as he leaned forward starting to explain the object of the game and details like what a 'run' is. He reached forward, drawing a card from the face down pile and placing the ten of spades into his hand. "If yeh draw, yeh have to discard," he stated as he pulled out a four of diamonds and placed it face up. You nodded, watching his play. While the game moved around the table you nearly forgot you were sitting on Digger's lap as you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table. When it came to Digger's turn again, he grabbed your waist, pulling you back against his chest as he balanced his forearm on the lip of the table.
"Yeh try playing this round," he stated, his hand lingering on your hip, while his facial hair tickled the outer shell of your ear. "There's a queen of spades on the discard, what yeh gon' do?"
You tried to focus on the game and not the feeling of his chest against your back, or the way his warm breath drifted across your neck as you contemplated the possible moves. Eventually you decided to take the exposed queen of spades, tucking it between the ten and king of the same suit, and discard the seemingly random six of hearts.
"Very good choice," Digger stated loudly as he squeezed your hip, "Yeh might get good at this yet." He reached forward, grabbing the unmarked bottle of brown liquor that sat on the table and refilled his glass, "Yeh deserve a drink for that one." You took the glass in two hands and cautiously looked around the table.
"Don't worry, we won't tell your aunt," Peter finally stated with a wave of his hand.
Lifting the glass to you lips, you took a much more cautious sip than you had before. You grimaced slightly at the initial taste but enjoyed the warm feeling as the liquid traveled to your stomach. "That's not bad," you mention with a nod, "I like it more than the other stuff." Lifting the glass you took another sip of the amber liquid.
"I warned yeh about the grain alcohol," Digger teased, causing the other men to erupt with laughter. You could feel your face burning though you weren't sure if it was from the liquor or embarrassment.
Placing your hands flat on the table you pushed yourself up, rising from Digger's lap and releasing yourself from his grasp. "I should go to sleep," you announced, taking your time to say goodnight to James, Peter and Jean Claude, making a point to ignore the man behind you before leaving to your small bedroom.