I have to tell you, friends, it was one of my best days at the sawmill, for more reasons than one.

From the moment one of my forester friends sent me a picture of that log, I was certain it was going to be one of the best pieces of timber I’d ever sawed. Black walnut, and not one ... Not two ... But three potential crotches. That alone would have been enough, but when I saw that picture where the bark had flaked off, revealing tell-tale ripples...

Lord have mercy.

Now, he knew what he had, but it was essentially cast-away timber from his regular customers who buy by the truckload. I paid a pretty penny for that log, but it was a fair price for what it was.

I had customer orders lined up, so I had to leave that beautiful log lying down in the timber yard for three whole weeks while I sawed boards and posts. It was torture, I tell you. Finally, I put that black beauty on the loading arms, got it squared away, and fired up the mill.

The LT40 was purring like a kitten, and that four degree double hard blade was cutting like a laser. As soon as I finished that first cut to open it up, I pushed the waste off and started scraping sawdust. I could tell immediately that it was going to be everything I’d hoped for, and I couldn’t wait to see what was hiding deeper down in that log.

I ended up with three eight quarter live edge slabs that each had three breathtaking bits of crotch figure and that sweet curl. The rest of the slabs were wonderful, but those three were some of the best that had ever come out of my sawmill. A furniture maker paid me right handsomely for those when they finally came out of the kiln.

I was positively giddy while I snapped pictures, and then put them up on stickers to air dry.

Of course, that’s when my ex-wife decided to call and ruin a perfectly good day. The sound of her voice alone could suck the life right out of me. That will happen when you come home early with a fistful of flowers to surprise her for no reason, and find her in your bed with the fella that lives down the road.

I have no problem supporting our son. I’m doing well with the mill, so I keep up on the child support payments, and I don’t mind kicking in when there’s something he wants. I learned the hard way not to trust her when she asked for money, though. I put her off, saying I needed to check my finances. Then I fought that tiny screen with my fat fingers to send a text to Dillon.

I sent him the money to fix his dirt bike instead of trusting his mother to give it to him.

I convinced Dillon to talk on the phone instead of texting after a couple of painfully slow replies. Smartphones are useful, but I’m a simple man, and my fingers are meant for holding tools, not poking at a screen. He was looking forward to our weekend together as much as I was. That will surely lift a man’s spirits.

After one last look at the figure on the best of those slabs, I was feeling good again. I headed out toward the house to upload the pictures, but saw someone pulling into the drive.

I didn’t recognize the truck, so I paused by the edge of the drive to wait on whoever had come to call. As it got closer, I knew I’d never met the young woman behind the wheel. There was no way I could have ever forgotten a pretty thing like that.

My best guess at the time was that she was in her 20s. Her long blonde hair flowed out from under a Carhartt cap, and rustled in the breeze from the open windows. She was smiling, and she was stunning.

I smiled too when I saw the front license plate said Rednecker Than U in pink flowing letters, surrounded by hearts.

“Hey there,” she said as she pulled to a stop next to me, and gave me a wave. Her fingernails were painted bright red.

Speaking of figure ... She certainly had one. The t-shirt she was wearing looked like it was about to give up the ghost from trying to keep her tits inside. I was raised better than to stare - no matter how much I wanted to - so I said, “Hello. Something I can do for you?”

“Any chance I can take a look through your burn pile over there?” she asked.

“Well, I suppose. Have to tell you, there’s not much in there that’s good for anything. I squeeze every bit of useful timber I can out of my logs.”

She said, “I’m hoping some of the knots on those offcuts might be worth turning on my lathe.”

I shrugged and said, “Well, if you can find something, you’re welcome to it. It’s all going to go up in smoke in a couple of days. I did saw some nice bowl blanks out of a red cedar that was all full of voids a couple of weeks back, if you’d like to take a look at those?”

She nodded. “Sure, I’ll give them a look. I turn spindles, but I could cut them down.”

“Well, come on down to the mill. I’ll show you those blanks, and then you can take a rummage through the burn pile. Name’s Bill Halt.”

“Much obliged,” she said as she shut off the truck. “Tracy Lynn Willis.”

She climbed out onto her side step, and then grabbed a chainsaw out of the bed. She was just a little slip of a girl, but she hopped down with that chainsaw like she’d done it a thousand times.

I had to stop myself from staring again when she walked around the front of the pickup. The cut-off jean shorts she was wearing weren’t quite Daisy Dukes, but they were close enough, and fit her just as tight as her t-shirt. I turned toward the mill and pointed in order to take my eyes off her.

She fell into step beside me, and I asked, “You from around here?”

“I’m over by Washington. I just picked up some wood from someone down the road, saw your burn pile, and thought I’d stop.”

“Washington? You know Ron Jenkins?”

She laughed. “Oh, I know old Ron. I get most of my wood from him.”

“He turned me onto a black walnut that I just finished sawing.”

“Oh yeah?” We reached the point where we could see into the building, and she remarked, “LT 40. What kind of blades are you running?”

I answered, “Four degree double hard.”

She let out a whistle. “Those go through like butter, don’t they?”

“They surely do,” I said with a smile. It was always nice to talk to someone who appreciated the work of the man they were dealing with.

“Can I take a look at those offcuts from the walnut too?” she asked, pointing to where they were beside the open side of the building.

“Sure thing. That was a beautiful piece of timber.”

“Nice figure?”

Yes, yes it is, I thought when I looked at her. She was sure a hot little thing. “Three crotches and curl.”

“Three? I’ve got to see that.”

“Well, come on in,” I said, more than happy to share my good fortune with that log.

It was a new stack, so those slabs were only about knee height, and easy to see. Tracy walked straight over to them.

“Whooee. You weren’t lying,” she said as she sat down her chainsaw and admired the top slab.

I chuckled and said, “If I’m lying, I’m dying.”

“How many are that good?”

“Three, and the others aren’t too shabby either.”

“Bet those don’t last long once they’re dry.”

“I’m going to post a few pictures once I head back into the house. I’m betting I have them sold before they even hit the kiln.”

She turned toward me, wearing that brilliant smile, and brushed her golden locks back over her shoulder. “How bad did Ron beat you up on this one?”

“Oh, I had to haggle pretty hard, but I think it was fair. How’s he dealing with you?”

“The truth?” she said, and let out a little laugh. “He’s sweet on me. I usually bat my eyelashes at him and he lets me have whatever I want.”

“Yeah, that’s Ron alright.” As long as I’d known him, he was a sucker for a pretty face.

“Well, there’s no way I can afford this, so where are those red cedar blanks?”

I led her over to where they were, and she made a bee-line toward the biggest one. It was about a foot long, eight inches high, and six inches wide, with some beautiful color. I dealt with some folks who liked those big blocks, so whenever I saw an opportunity, I tried to keep a few on hand.

“What you have on this one?” she asked.

“Oh, I could go $25 on that one, I suppose.”

“Sold,” she said without hesitation. “I’ll get four good blanks out of that, and if I find anything on the pile, I’ll make out like a bandit.”

“What do you turn?” I asked. “I like to have some nice pieces around the house, so I barter with a lot of the turners, carvers, and makers I deal with. Wood for finished pieces.”

She bit her bottom lip, giggled, and said, “I don’t think you’d be all that interested.”

“Well, you never know,” I suggested.

“Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you,” she said with a little girlish, sing-song in her voice. “I make wooden dildos.”

Yep. I did a double-take on that one. She laughed at the look on my face, which I knew was colored full-on red from how hot my face was.

I cleared my throat, looked away, and said, “Yep, you’re right. Don’t think I’d want to explain that sitting on the shelf.”

“You could always give one to a special someone,” she suggested.

“Not really anyone like that just now,” I responded, still fighting against my burning blush.

“Oh?” she said. Before I could respond, she picked up her chainsaw and changed the subject. “So, let me see if that knot on that walnut might be worth turning.”

“Sure.”

We walked around the mill and then around the side of the building to the opening by the loading arms. My eyes nearly jumped straight out of my head when she bent over to look at that offcut. The way her butt looked in those tight shorts ought to be illegal.

I managed to tear my eyes away before she straightened and turned around. “Was this going to the burn pile too?”

“If you want it, it’s yours,” I answered.

Maybe I’m no better than Ron, because I thought it was a small price to pay for a good look at such a hot little lady.

I’ve got to admit that I was impressed when she fired up that chainsaw and went to work. She handled it like she was born with one, and she obviously kept it sharp. It went through the end above that knot in nothing flat, and a second quick, professional cut sent it tumbling.

I was liking her more by the minute.

Since she obviously didn’t need any assistance, I said, “Why don’t I take this one and that cedar block to your truck for you while you take a look through the pile?”

“Well, I haven’t paid you for the cedar yet, you know?”

“I don’t hardly think you’re going to run off with it. I’ll meet you down at the pile.”

“Thanks.”

Lord in heaven, that girl’s smile could turn a man’s knees to jelly.

I gathered up her walnut knot while she turned toward the pile. I couldn’t resist another peek at that perfect butt and those smooth legs before heading inside. That cedar block was anything but light, but I hefted it and braced it against my hip to carry it to her truck.

About the time I was sitting it in the bed atop the wood that was already there, I heard the chainsaw fire up. She was cutting a second knot off when I made my way down to the pile.

“That should keep me busy for a while,” she said as she shut the chainsaw down.

“I’ll get these too. That way you can keep both hands on the saw.”

“Meet you at the truck, then.”

I deposited her two pieces in the bed next to the others, trying to ignore her standing on the step, leaning into the truck with her perfect little butt wiggling a foot or so away.

“Here you go,” she said when she emerged with the cash.

“Thank you much. If there’s anything special you want, I can keep my eye out for you. I have some pretty good contacts with the local foresters and log buyers.”

She hopped down, setting those tightly bound boobs into a hypnotizing jiggle. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The next thing I knew, she had stepped in practically on top of me. Then she reached up and started twisting the tip of my beard around a fingertip while looking into my eyes.

Her voice was a sultry, almost whisper when she said, “You know, I can’t believe you don’t have anyone to give one of my toys to. That’s just a crime. Come to think of it, there is something special I want.”

I was just plain thunderstruck. I couldn’t fathom the look in that pretty little woman’s eyes being directed at me. I was damn near old enough to be her father, and the beard she was toying with had more than a few streaks of gray.

Tracy pulled off her cap and gave it a toss into the truck. She pushed the door closed while shaking out her hair, and then asked, “So, want to go inside?”

I don’t remember thinking about nodding, but I surely did. She slipped a hand up around my neck, stood up on her tiptoes, and pulled me into a kiss.

Friends, there’s no words to describe that kiss. It damn near knocked me off my feet, and at the same time, I felt like I was going to take off flying.

“So, take me to bed,” she said when our lips finally parted.

Something about hearing her say that made it more real, and my conscience reared its ugly head. When she took my hand and tried to pull me toward the house, I stood my ground, and asked, “Are you sure about this? I mean ... Me?”

“Yes, you.” she answered without hesitation. “Older men and nice, big beards turn me on. I’ve been wet from the moment I saw you walking up from the mill.” She then affected a pout and said, “You’re not going to leave a lady in distress like that, are you?”

That’s when my conscience punched out for the day and kicked back in its rocking chair.

“No Ma’am, I surely ain’t,” I said as I let her guide me toward the house.

It’s all a blur from there to the bedroom. I remember directing the way once we were inside, but that’s about it. She put another one of those amazing lip locks on me once we were beside my bed, and guided the hand I put on her back down to that tight little behind of hers.

She wasn’t shy. That’s for sure. Tracy let out a sexy growl, pulled away from the kiss, and sat down on my bed. She’d barely settled before she grabbed the tail of her t-shirt and yanked it up. Those firm young breasts tumbling out were a sight to see - I can tell you that. It had been a dog’s age since I’d seen a pair so nice, up close and personal like that.

Hell, I don’t know that I ever had.

She gave her shirt a toss, those tits a squeeze, and then lifted her left foot.

“Get these boots off for me?”

“Yes Ma’am,” I answered as I slipped a hand beneath that smooth-shaven calf. I gave the knot a yank, loosened the laces, and slipped off her boot. When she wiggled her toes, I slid her sock off as well.