Chapter 24 Lucy
Lucy
“What’s the most ridiculous thing a man can do?” I ask Annabelle, crossing my arms and staring at the water. “Hop on a log he has no business being on to show off for a crowd.”
Full disclaimer: I haven’t decided if this is a turn-on or a turnoff.
Because on one hand, Harris looks ridiculous.
He’s flailing like a baby deer standing on its legs for the first time, his arms pinwheeling as he tries to steady himself.
Harris is wobbling so hard, the log might as well be a trampoline.
It’s embarrassing, kind of. Like secondhand cringe.
I can feel my face heating up just watching him.
On the other hand . . . those abs.
Those shoulders. That cocky smirk that would be so much easier to ignore if he didn’t look like he just walked off a Sports Illustrated cover shoot for the limited-edition mountain-man issue.
In my hands is a thick, gray towel, ready to dispense the second he falls ass over teakettle into the water. Because he will. And I will be ready for him when he emerges.
Annabelle nudges me, standing close as we watch the chaos unfolding on the water with wide eyes.
“I don’t even know how to thank Harris. Seriously.
If he hadn’t stepped up to help me, this whole thing could have gone down in flames.
Word has gotten out, and we can officially call the weekend a huge success.
“You’re lucky, you know that?” she goes on, not taking her gaze off Harris. “The way he looks at you? The way he keeps trying to impress you? I’m not saying I would kill for a guy like that, but I might be willing to commit a petty crime.”
I smile.
She’s right.
He is pretty freaking amazing.
Looking at him, I have an ache in my chest now and an itch on my boobs with an unattractive rash on my ass.
I scratch, doing my best to leave it be.
“Honestly, Lucy, I’ve been a little jealous. The past few days, watching you two . . . it’s like you’re living in some kind of romantic comedy. And I’m just over here trying to make sure this festival doesn’t implode.”
I look at her, surprised. “Jealous? Of Harris?”
“Of you!” She swats at my arm. “Your meet-cute is with the hottest guy in town. Meanwhile, I’m running around making sure Wally doesn’t hack his fingers off with an axe, which hasn’t been easy.
” Annabelle sighs. “Maybe some hot, muscular lumberjack will just come strolling through, dripping with sweat, carrying a log, and sweep me off my feet.”
“It could still happen,” I say, nudging her back. “Harris’s teammates are still in town—not sure if all of them are leaving. Stranger things have happened.”
My gaze goes back to Harris, who continues to flail.
Still, he seems to be hanging on.
“My God—his ribs must be so sore,” I muse with sympathy. “He is going to be such a mess tomorrow.”
“Poor bastard. He’s taking one for the team.”
I give her another look. “You know he’s here today because he respects you. It has nothing to do with me.” I slide my arm around her waist, pulling her close. “You did this—all of this is amazing because of you. Yeah, they’re nice to look at, and it’s fun. But they wouldn’t be here without you.”
“Stop. You’re making me blush.”
But I don’t stop. She obviously needs to hear it. “I’m not kidding. You’re running the show. You’re a badass, and someone is going to sweep you off your feet if you don’t beat them to it. It just won’t be with a log.”
Annabelle scrunches up her nose. “You think?”
“I know.” I squish her. “It’s going to be your antihero: tall, dark, handsome.”
“Ohh, a Viking would be perfect.”
Before I can say more, there’s a loud splash from the lake, followed by a chorus of shouts and laughter.
Both our eyes go wide, and my hand goes over my mouth. “Oh God, that looked horrible!”
Harris bobs in the water, sputtering, hair plastered to his forehead; he looks more like a drowned rat than a man who’s doing a massive favor for my best friend while injured.
“Bless his heart, he stayed on an entire forty seconds.”
“You think it’s been that long?”
“Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt.” Annabelle giggles, then glances at me with a smirk. “Look at you, ready to run over there with that towel like a doting wifey.”
I shove her, but I’m already moving toward him, towel in hand as Harris hefts himself out of the water to the roar of the crowd, dripping wet and grinning like he just won an Olympic medal.
So hot.
He ignores the outstretched towel I’m offering him. One arm hooks around my waist, the other under my thighs, and suddenly, I’m being carried under protest. My squeal echoes across the bleachers as he hoists me up against his chest, my legs flailing as I cling to his shoulders.
“Harris, put me down!” I shriek, laughter bubbling up as cold water from his soaked shirt seeps through mine, chilling my skin. “You’re getting me wet!”
“Don’t get mad,” he says, his grin wicked, eyes glinting with that familiar, dangerous mischief. “The crowd is gonna love this.”
Then he’s charging toward the water’s edge, gripping me tightly as I try to wiggle free, screaming the entire way. “Harris, no!”
He holds me close, muscles tensing beneath my hands as he takes a running leap off the dock.
And then we’re airborne.
My stomach flips. Lurches from the jump.
Water rushes to meet us, and we hit the surface with a splash so loud it drowns out the cheers and laughter echoing from the shore.
Glub . . . glub . . .
Glub.
Cold water engulfs me, rushing up my nose and filling my ears. Free from his arms, I resurface, sputtering, my once cute hair now plastered to my face. Harris bobs up beside me, water streaming down his face, grinning like a maniac.
I want to strangle him.
He kisses me as if we were the only two people around.
As if the entire town wasn’t watching from metal bleachers.
It’s messy and wet and tastes like lake water, and I want to be furious, but I can’t! I can’t seem to care! His hands slide up my back, pulling me against him as the water ripples around us, waves lapping against our bodies.
They love it.
I love it.
And honestly? I think I love him.
I must.
Nothing else can explain the way he makes me feel.