Hank pulled earmuffs attached to his hat down around his ears, then gestured toward the axe and shot her a grin.
"Since you insist on chopping the wood yourself, I wouldn’t take too long if I were you. Frostbite’s
a nasty thing."
Tina bit off the temptation to tell Hank where he could stick his axe—and his opinion of her.
He stood there, a smug smile on his face, and watched her.
If Hank had thoughts of her becoming little Miss Country Bumpkin, it wasn’t going to happen-not by a long shot.
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