Chapter 11
Fact or Fiction?
My best friend has lost his mind.
Addison
I watch with my brows furrowed as Luke readies himself with the other lumberjacks for the boom running part of the competition.
The contestants all change into shorts, tank tops, and water shoes to prepare for the event that requires them to run across
a row of eight booms that float across the length of the small pond in the park. They have to make their way across them,
round a barrel on the other side, and then run back.
Most usually make it all the way across and back without getting wet, so it just comes down to the best time. But I think
Luke could use a dip in the cold water right now because this competition has him way too heated up.
Maybe once in a while, you need to be told what to do.
I squirm in my seat, offering a tight smile to my dad as I squeeze my thighs together and try to stop myself from feeling
excited by the way Luke spoke to me. I’ve just never seen this side to him before. The dominant, self-assured, angry side.
What the fuck is wrong with me that I like it so much?
I am sick. I should not be turned on by a man telling me what to do. Even if that man is my best friend. Especially if that
man is my best friend!
A best friend with godlike muscles that were so not there five weeks ago. And when he turned to face me after one of his axe throws, I swear I could see a solid six-pack through his sweat-soaked shirt. Would he mind if I lifted said shirt to count them? With my tongue?
My God, it’s clearly been way too long since I’ve had sex.
My eyes snap to the right when I see Luke come out from the changing area. He’s ditched his hat and his shaggy hair is blowing
in the breeze as he stretches and talks to his brother Wyatt. I wonder what they’re talking about. It’s probably incredibly
narcissistic to think they’re talking about me, but I’m just trying to figure out why Luke decided to do all of this. Is it
just to marry me? Is my life really that important to him? I know he thinks it’s unsafe of me to marry a logger, but I’ve
known Ivan for years, so he’s clearly an exception. I think Ivan and Luke might actually get along if Luke gave him a chance.
Either way, this is my decision and I will not let hot, brooding, bossy Luke change my course of action. In fact, now I’m
even more determined to find a lumberjack who doesn’t have the last name of Fletcher. All the Fletcher brothers seem a bit
unhinged today. I swear I saw Calder trip one of the contestants earlier. Like . . . on purpose, stuck his foot out and tripped
the guy, then pointed to a little girl standing on the other side like she was the one to do it.
There must be something in the air up on Fletcher Mountain and I’m going to stay far the hell away from it.
“So what were you saying earlier about your dad’s lumber supply business?” Ivan asks, appearing out of nowhere beside me,
and I smile and turn around to talk to him while the first contestant prepares to run across the row of floating logs.
“Oh, just that he’s retiring from the business and looking to sell or pass along to me.”
Ivan sniffs loudly as he looks down at me. “You’d take over the whole building center? How would you manage that?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean . . . surely you wouldn’t talk directly to the mills and stuff. You have a guy on staff for that I assume.”
“Yeah. Me.”
“Right,” Ivan replies with a laugh to which I stare back at him, not joining in. He frowns. “Like you negotiate the rates
and buys and everything?”
“Yes . . . why are you saying it like that’s a big deal? You knew I worked for my dad.”
“I thought you were the receptionist. Or maybe did the bookwork for the company. Payables, receivables, that kind of stuff.”
“Why did you figure that?” I ask, staring up at him and wondering what the hell we talked about when I hooked up with him
four years ago. Obviously we didn’t talk enough.
“I’ve just never met a woman who knows the difference between pine and oak, let alone one that talks to the sawmills directly.”
“Then you don’t know Roe at all,” Luke’s voice interjects from behind and I turn around to see him standing a foot away from
me with a murderous look in his eyes. “Monroe Lumber would be nothing without her and that was true even before her dad retired.”
His words fill my heart with something really intense and I almost smile. Almost.
The thing that stops me from smiling at my best friend is the fact that Luke’s hands have somehow snaked around my waist in
a weird, claiming sort of way as he shoots daggers at Ivan.
“What are you doing?” I hiss through clenched teeth as I fight the surging desire that’s coursing through my body at his very
intimate and foreign touch.
“Just coming over for a good luck kiss,” Luke says loudly, looking directly at Ivan.
“A what?” I ask, not following what’s going on, so I turn around in Luke’s arms, my eyes flying wide when his big paws slide dangerously low on my back. I grip the chest of his tank top, balling the fabric in my fists. “What the fuck are you doing, Fletcher?”
A slow, dopey smile spreads across his face as he looks down at me. “You heard me, snookums.”
Snookums?
Now he’s gone too far.
“We’ll be right back,” I state through clenched teeth to Ivan as I grab Luke by the shirt and drag him behind me. We make
our way over to the long row of porta-potties and I do my best to ignore the rancid smell as I give my friend here a hard
shove in the chest. “What the fuck is going on?” I ask as soon as we’re concealed from the crowd.
“That guy is a creep, Roe,” he says, pointing his finger back to the place we just vacated. His exposed arms reveal a serious
farmer’s tan and I have to stop myself from admiring Luke’s corded arm muscles.
“He’s perfectly fine,” I balk and prop my hands on my hips.
“Everything he just said to you was misogynistic bullshit.”
“So what.” I shrug and feel my body tensing up. “I hear that shit all the time.”
“Not from me,” Luke replies, his eyes intense, and I swallow the knot in my throat because I know he’s right.
From day one I never got a single sexist vibe from Luke. Or any of the Fletcher brothers for that matter. And the fact that
Luke asked me out for drinks and didn’t try to sleep with me proves that point even further. He’s one of the good ones. Normally.
“Luckily, I don’t need Ivan to be perfect for a one-week-a-month marriage,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest. “I just
need him to sign a little contract and go live his life as usual.”
“After he moves in with you,” Luke growls and begins pacing in front of me, murmuring expletives under his breath.
He slices his hand through his wild hair and I find it really irritating how good that floppy hair looks on him. He looks good in pretty much anything though. Even in his dorky little water shoes. Damn him.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you today, but you need to chill the fuck out because I’m going to do what I came here to
do and no man—well-meaning or not—is going to stop me.” I lick my lips and pause before adding, “And if you keep pushing me
like this, then you’re no better than that walking embodiment of toxic masculinity Ivan out there.”
Luke stops pacing and stares back at me like he’s been shot and I have a moment of hesitation, wondering if I went too far.
I know Luke is a good guy, but whatever kind of tactic he’s using right now to get me to fake marry him instead of Ivan or
anyone else is too much. This is my life and my decision and no man is going to get in my way.
“Try not to drown out there,” I snipe as I brush his shoulder to storm past him, desperate to get some space from his wounded
eyes. Luke is clearly going through something that has very little to do with me, and the less I know about it the better.
I pause and turn on my heel to add, “And if you ever call me snookums in public again, I will knee you in the nut sack.”
He rolls his eyes and I walk away to find my seat with my dad and Edith. My brows are stuck in a constant state of furrowing
as I sulk through the next thirty minutes.
However, the entire time I watch the event, I can’t seem to shake the memory of Luke’s hands on my body. Luke and I don’t
touch like that. Ever. We shove and hit. Or I should say, I shove and hit. Luke just kind of takes it from me. He takes a lot from me, come to think of it. And he never complains.
But today he seems to have found his voice with me and it’s bothering me how much I seem to like that side to him. His assertive
voice is hot.
Unfortunately, that macho bravado doesn’t help him in the booms. He comes in third and is seated in fifth place in the overall lineup of twenty lumberjacks with only two more events to go.
Ivan took first, making it look far too easy for a man his size, but I can’t even bring myself to cheer for him.
I’m irritated by his remarks earlier and not really sure why I defended him to Luke.
Ivan deserves a knee to the nut sack as well.
As I look up at the scoreboard, I realize that it will take a miracle for Luke to win best overall. Ivan would need to bomb
the next two events to even give Luke a chance and I really don’t see that happening.
We make our way over to the bucking saw competition and I cringe when I look at the board and see that Luke’s paired up with
none other than Ivan, who seems to really have his hackles up around Luke. This should be interesting.
The announcer explains that the bucking saw event has two men using a two-person bucking saw to pull through a twenty-inch
white pine log. They have to sever a complete wood cookie off the end of the log faster than the other teams who are all lined
up to go at the same time as well. I realize that even if Luke and Ivan take first place, it will only further improve Ivan’s
standing, which does nothing for Luke.
Luke and Ivan glower at each other as they stand across a three-foot-long cross saw, neither of them taking their eyes off
each other as the announcer reads off the teams all ready to roll right alongside them. They begin a countdown and the two
ready themselves, eyes on each other as they bend over and grip their saw. Luke’s muscles are glistening in the October heat
and it’s such a sight, I can’t even be bothered to look at Ivan.
The buzzer goes off and I swear to God, I blink and they’ve sawed their cookie clean off, crushing through the timber in barely three cuts.
The other teams are still sawing away as both Luke and Ivan continue holding on to the long blade, the metal bowing in the center as they both refuse to let go, yanking on the handle to force their teammate to stumble.
Finally, the scorekeeper comes over to announce them as winners and they release their saw handles, both walking away and
refusing to celebrate their victory. Luke’s eyes find mine and are pools of molten lava as he glares up at me.
“What is wrong with that boy?” my dad husks from beside me.
I inhale deeply, my heart rate thundering at his intense eye contact. “I wish I knew, Old Man.”