3. Hannah
3
HANNAH
Twenty-four hours. That’s how long it’s been since Kane strode into the bakery and found me crouching behind the counter. And in all that time, I haven’t stopped thinking about him for one second.
It’s infuriating.
He is infuriating.
But as much as I hate to admit it, I like it. A lot.
I like the way he calls me Ginger Snap in that deep growly voice, and the way his brown eyes shine with mischief. I like his beard and his tattoos, and the way he looks at me like I’m the only person in the world.
I like him .
Kane is still a stranger, but with the chemistry between us, it feels like I’ve known him for ages. I just wish I knew more about this bossy lumberjack and his life in the forest. I wish I were brave enough to head back into the woods and ask him all the questions that have been racing through my mind since we met.
“Hannah, come here a second,” Diane says, pulling me from my thoughts as she beckons me toward her. “I need you to be my taster.”
I grin. “My favorite part of the job.”
She hands me a fork. “It’s a cherry cheesecake. I’m thinking of selling a few at the festival next week.”
“What festival?” I ask as I take a bite of the sweet, creamy dessert.
“The Cherry Festival!” She shakes her head like she’s annoyed with herself. “I should have told you about it sooner. Sometimes I forget that you’re from Winterdale.”
The cheesecake turns to glue in my throat. When Diane asked me where I was from at my job interview, I didn’t dare say Silvercrest. I was scared that she might put two and two together and figure out my real identity, so I lied. I picked a nearby small town at random, Winterdale, and told Diane it was my hometown. Even my name is a lie. Everybody thinks I’m called Hannah Martin, but my real name is Hannah O’Neill.
“What’s the Cherry Festival?” I ask, mainly to distract myself from the guilt clawing at my chest.
“It’s a town tradition—been happening since long before I was born, and that’s saying something!” Diane leans back against the counter. “There’s live music, cherry picking, all kinds of cherry products for sale—pies, tarts, cakes. But the main event is the cherry pie contest.”
“Only in Cherry Hollow,” I mutter, smiling to myself. I love all the kooky, small-town traditions around here.
“It’s competitive as heck,” Diane continues. “People in Cherry Hollow get really serious about their cherry pies, and everybody has some secret family recipe or other that’s supposedly the best in the world.”
“Sounds fun.” I grin at her. “Maybe I’ll enter.”
Diane nods. “You should. We need some new blood. The same two people have been winning it for years.”
“Who?”
Diane seems to swell with pride as she says, “Well, I win most years. But sometimes Kane beats me.”
I swivel my neck so fast I feel it click. “Kane?”
“Yep.” Diane chuckles at the expression on my face. “Even grumpy lumberjacks can’t resist the Cherry Festival. The desserts are to die for.” She looks at the cheesecake in front of me. “Speaking of desserts—what did you think?”
“It’s delicious. You should definitely sell it at the festival,” I tell her, my mind still trying to process the idea of Kane baking a cherry pie. It’s a weird contrast, but a sexy one. There’s so much I don’t know about this rugged lumberjack, and I’m gripped with curiosity as I spoon the last of the cheesecake into my mouth.
“Perfect,” Diane says brightly. “Well, I’m going to grab some lunch. Want to come?”
“No thanks. I brought sandwiches.” Usually, I’d love to grab lunch with Diane, but I don’t want to risk missing Kane if he comes in like he said he would.
“Alrighty, well, I’ll see you in a little while.” She gives me an exaggerated wink. “Maybe I’ll even give you some tips for the cherry pie contest.”
I wave as she heads outside, still thinking over what she said about Kane.
Bossy lumberjack.
Sexy giant.
Cherry pie champion.
I giggle to myself, but the sound dies in my throat when the door opens a few moments later and Kane steps into the bakery. He has to duck to get through the threshold, his broad shoulders brushing the doorway. The bakery is big and airy, with high ceilings and exposed wooden beams, but somehow, with Kane inside, everything seems tiny.
My heart flutters as he meets my gaze across the room, striding up to the counter in three steps. It would probably take me ten.
“Cherry pie?” I ask, my throat dry.
“You bet, Ginger Snap.”
His eyes pierce mine, making my skin tingle beneath his gaze as I start to box up a pie for him.
“I’m surprised you don’t just make your own,” I say, my face heating beneath the intensity of his gaze. “Since you always win the contest at the Cherry Festival.”
Kane flashes me a barely there smile. “Did Diane tell you that?”
“Yep.” I slide his pie across the counter. “I’ve never been to the festival before.”
“Guess that means you’re not from around here?”
I will myself not to blush as I say, “I’m from Winterdale. No Cherry Festivals there.”
The lie sits heavy on my tongue, but Kane seems to buy it.
“You coming this year?” he asks, his eyes pinning me to the spot.
“Yep. And I’m going to enter the cherry pie contest.”
“That so, Ginger Snap?” Kane leans against the counter toward me. “You know it’s never been won by somebody who’s not from Cherry Hollow.”
I stare at him. “Seriously? Never?”
“Never.”
“Well…I guess I’ll have to be the first,” I say defiantly.
“You’re coming for my crown, huh?” His smirk is infuriatingly sexy.
“You bet. I’m gonna bake a cherry pie so delicious it’ll make you cry.”
He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound in his throat that makes my heart flutter.
“Bring it on, Ginger Snap.”
My competitive streak flares at his words. I’m going to beat Kane in this pie contest and wipe that stupid sexy smirk off his stupid handsome face once and for all.
Diane gives me a ride home after we close up, and I bombard her with questions about cherry pie baking all the way. I’m pretty sure she’s relieved when I finally get out and head into my apartment.
The place is still pretty bare. I left most of my stuff back in Silvercrest and only brought what I needed, but it’s cozy, and there’s a beautiful view of the sprawling forest and mountains from the living room window.
I get to work googling cherry pie recipes, looking up every possible tip and trick that I can use to beat Kane. I’m so engrossed in my research that the sound of knocking on the door almost makes me drop my laptop. Nobody has ever visited my apartment before besides Diane.
Tentatively, I get up from the couch and unlock the front door. My heart plummets. Andrea Ryan is standing outside. She’s in her early forties, with glossy black hair and a wide mouth that immediately twitches into a triumphant smile at the sight of me. I see her reach for her phone, no doubt opening up her voice recorder as she asks, “Hannah, do you have anything to say to the people of Silvercre?—”
I slam the door shut and lock it, backing away until I’m on the other side of the room. My heart is pounding as I listen to Andrea call my name, shouting more questions through the door.
“Our readers want to know if you were involved, Hannah! This is a chance to tell your side of the story.”
I close my eyes and press my hands over my ears, blocking out her voice. I don’t know how long I stand there, but eventually, I let my hands drop to my sides and listen.
There’s silence from the other side of the door.
Scurrying to the window, I peer out from behind the curtains just in time to see Andrea getting into her car. I let out a sigh of relief as she drives away, but it doesn’t stop the uneasiness gnawing at my chest.
It was only a matter of time before Andrea found me. Cherry Hollow is a small town, and she knows I live here, so it can’t have been too hard to find my address. But it still sucks. My apartment feels tainted now that Andrea can find me here, and I slump on the couch with a sigh, grabbing the remote control and turning on the TV to distract me.
My mom’s face fills the screen.
A news anchor is talking, and I catch the words, “Mayor O’Neill’s wife, Michelle O’Neill, was in on it from the beginning?—”
I turn off the TV and toss the remote aside, sucking in a breath. Tears burn behind my eyes, but I force them back.
I could go. I could leave right now and find another small town. I’d be more careful this time and make sure Andrea has no way to trace me. But Cherry Hollow has already captured my heart. This place is special. It feels more like home than Silvercrest ever did, and I’m not ready to let it go. I won’t let myself be driven away.
With a deep, determined breath, I grab my laptop again and return to my cherry pie research. But even though I’d never admit it to anybody, there’s another big reason I don’t want to leave Cherry Hollow.
A big, bossy, lumberjack-shaped reason.