Chapter One
Ellis
“What is she doing here?”
The curvy redhead side-eyes me while I address her brother, Grant.
I don’t mean for my question to be as harsh as it sounds but seeing my best friend’s younger sister in this rugged setting was like finding a rainbow trout sunning on a beach. Definitely a fish out of water in these parts.
“She is here to check out the local sights, Ellis Duncan.” Ginger Solomon crosses her arms and faces me, narrowing those brilliant sky-blue eyes in my direction.
This weekend is Logger Fest, known among the locals as Lumberjack Lust Weekend. A blissful forty-eight hours when burly men are brash and unfiltered, and most women present are looking to get laid the lumberjack way. They want a rugged man, who might be a little gruff on the outside, and even gruffer between the sheets.
And the last person I want here is Ginger.
She’s always been a thorn in my side until one day she was suddenly a beautiful rose. Luxuriant hair that matches her name. Pale skin, flawless other than a freckle near the corner of her mouth. A mouth I’ve wanted to kiss for ages. I had a chance when we were teens, but I blew it. She was fourteen back then; I was seventeen.
Respectively, we are now thirty-six and thirty-nine.
And Ginger is engaged.
Which buries an ax in the fact she shouldn’t be present at a lust fest.
Grant claps me on the back. “Ease up. She isn’t going to cramp your weekend. The ladies will still be lining up for your lumber-dick.”
My face scrunches. I might have known and loved Grant since high school but sometimes he acts like we are still adolescents and not grown men. I have responsibilities now and I don’t get laid on the regular. Hence, the reason for being here. Then again, I’m not all that interested in hooking up with just any random someone.
My gaze lands on Ginger only briefly before turning my head to the side and squinting off in the distance like something else is more interesting than the woman I’ve wanted since I was in my twenties.
“Ew.” Ginger draws my attention back to her and wrinkles her nose in this cute way. “Must you still act like randy teenagers, discussing your . . .” She waves outward, her gaze dropping to the zipper region on my shorts before glancing away.
“We must,” Grant counters, wrapping his arm around her neck and pulling her to him, then rubbing his knuckles over her hair like she’s still a kid, and not a beautifully poised woman, a little overdressed for a day of logger events.
Ginger has city girl written all her from her polished nails to her pristine shorts and flouncy top. She’s out of her element in this backcountry. Even Grant is slumming it a bit by being here. The woods. The lake. The fresh air doesn’t compare to his condo in the city, glassed in with only a sliver-view of a greater lake.
“Stop,” Ginger groans, pressing at her brother’s belly and standing straighter. Her hair sticks up and Ginger runs those pretty manicured fingers over the mop of curls and tucks them into a ponytail on top of her head. The glint of her engagement ring hits me square in the eye and right in the chest.
Her fiancé is a douche canoe.
“What’s up first?” she asks.
Grant claps his hands once, rubs them together and announces. “Beer for breakfast. It contains the most important food group. Fiber.” He winks and adds, “Hops and barley.”
Ginger giggles while wrinkling that pert nose again. “I’ll pass. I need something a little more substantial before I consume watered-down fiber.”
Grant shakes his head, acting disappointed in his sister when he admires the hell out of her. Both Solomons are impressive. They went to college, earned degrees, and are financially successful. I, on the other hand, inherited my granddad’s lumber company, something of a local institution. I’ve been working there since high school, hoping to move on to other things, but when Pops got sick, Dad needed my help. Now, both are gone, and I’m in charge.
“So, beer it is, then,” Grant states, ignoring his sister’s request and moving away toward the beer tent on the festival grounds. The local townspeople didn’t want beer served before noon, but we’d found a loophole, and the hoppy beverage will have a long life today.
I might even start indulging myself because I don’t know how I’ll pass the day in Ginger’s presence.
As we follow Grant, Ginger walks beside me, remaining quiet a second before asking, “What events are you competing in today?”
I shrug. “Probably log rolling. Ax throwing. And whatever else comes my way.”
“Like letting a logger girl ride your lumber?”
Stumbling over my feet at her sudden crassness and the mere suggestion, I stop short and stutter. “What the—”
Ginger spins around, walking backwards a few steps while watching me. Her eyes roam down my bulky form. A smirk twists those kissable lips, but her eyes harden. “Yeah, I know the key events you and my brother are interested in, but I won’t be participating in any of those shenanigans.”
“Oh, yeah, and what events will you be partaking in?” My lips match the crook of her mouth.
“Maybe I’ll try log rolling and ax throwing.”
I scoff. Ginger is a solid girl, curvy in all the right places. I have no doubt she can handle herself in a dark alley, but I don’t want her participating in any events here today. Irrationally, I don’t want her drawing attention to herself, because she’s every man’s wet dream, even if her clothes make her look a little stodgy. And that ring isn’t going to protect her from men hitting on her.
“What?” She stops, fisting her hands and setting them on those hourglass hips. “You don’t think I can’t do it?”
“I know you can’t,” I challenge, although Ginger is one of the most capable women I know and one who is impossible to dissuade once she puts her mind to something. Her fierce attitude is one thing, among many, that I love about her.
And, yes, I willingly admit I’m in love with my best friend’s younger sister. For twenty-something years, I’ve crushed on her, and I’m the only person who knows it.
“We’ll see.” Ginger narrows those blue eyes, the flame in them flickering before she spins around to follow her brother into the beer tent.
Shamelessly, I check out her ass. The swell of each cheek is just right. Her hips wide before tapering into solid thighs. Fuck, she’s a dream, and I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight, fantasizing about my face between her legs.
Scrubbing a hand over my ragged beard, I sigh.
It’s going to be a long day.