Chloe #2
People were flocking toward the left side, where the Gagnon volunteers were handing out raffle tickets and collecting money in their green buckets.
They were clearly the good guys in this scenario.
I had nothing against the family or their business.
How could I? I’d only heard annoyingly good things about all of them, and so far, they had proven to be fair business partners when necessary.
“Who is the Viking in Hebert Green up there?” Karl asked. “Do we employ him?”
An older woman next to us, wearing a flowy caftan and at least a dozen necklaces, laughed. “Oh, you must be new in town. That’s Finn Hebert, darling. He’s engaged to Adele Gagnon.”
Karl offered her the molasses cookie the size of my face and she broke off a small piece.
“Quite the scandal when he knocked her up.” She waggled her brows and popped the cookie into her mouth.
“Gotta love the small-town rumor mill,” JJ remarked.
With a smile, the woman wiped her hand on her skirt and then held it out to JJ. “I’m Francine DuPont.”
“The gossip about these two families could fill a set of encyclopedias,” she said after we’d all introduced ourselves. “Rivals. Have hated each other for generations. The bad blood goes way back.”
While Mrs. DuPont wove a dramatic tale worthy of an HBO prestige drama, I scanned the crowd, noting the kids running wild and the lines of people waiting for blueberry pie. The scene was both familiar and foreign all at once.
It felt like Maine, though not the Maine I’d grown up in.
This was the idealized version that I’d always craved.
We didn’t have many events or festivals in Heartsborough.
It was safe to say that my hometown lacked the delightful New England charm of its neighbor.
Where Lovewell got the lake and winding country roads, Heartsborough got the interstate and several abandoned paper mills.
The crowd was frenzied as Victoria called for an end to the bets.
Karl elbowed me. “My money’s on the other guys.”
JJ glared at him. “Those are our employees up there. Show some support.”
“You see that one? Up there?” Mrs. DuPont pointed a bony finger at a lean, muscular man on the Gagnon team. “That’s Remy Gagnon. He’s a professional timbersports athlete. Been on magazine covers and stuff. It’s not much of a competition with him here, but it’s all for fun.”
As the crowd chanted the Gagnons’ names, my stomach twisted. The strange feeling was only compounded when I got a look at the green buckets overflowing with bills.
I reached into my small crossbody bag and pulled out my wallet. “Here,” I said, handing JJ a one-hundred-dollar bill. “Go bet on our team.”
She raised an eyebrow at me. “It’s for charity.”
“Boss lady does love an underdog,” Karl joked.
As volunteers hauled out the equipment, music blasted from the speakers on either side of the stage. Once it was all set up, Victoria explained the rules of the standing block chop.
I stood on my tiptoes so I could see the stage as she continued. Each competitor had a giant block of wood that stood vertically in a metal stand. The goal was to chop through it from both sides as quickly as possible.
Huh. So they were simulating chopping down a tree.
I found myself sizing up the Gagnons. I wanted to watch with detached amusement like Karl and JJ, but I did care. This was my company, and those were my employees. Jude was there, his expression mostly shuttered. And Gus. He stood tall, listening politely as people booed him.
It was so him. He’d probably let people throw rotten tomatoes at him if it increased donations for the food pantry.
The sight of him made my heart melt. Dammit, he was good.
Deep down, in all the right places. And he’d been through hell with his father and the police and losing the company.
Yet after all that, he was here, doing his part.
Suddenly, I was hit with a pang of guilt. I’d forced him to stay. He could be across the country, with a new job and a new home in a new town. A town where no one cared what his last name was or what his father had done.
But he’d given up the opportunity in order to make the sale. To guarantee his employees would have jobs and that his brothers would be compensated. A bolt of white-hot shame washed through me. Because I’d contributed to his unhappiness. I’d leveraged my own anger and hurt to punish him.
My resolve wavered. Regardless of how badly he’d behaved twenty years ago, did he really deserve this punishment now?
God, Chloe. It was all getting to me. The sex, the winks, the morning lattes. I had to stay strong. He was the villain here. And sure, he was charitable, but why shouldn’t he be? It was the least he could do. I had a mission, and my poor heart could not afford to veer off course.
I pushed closer to the stage, cheering and whistling, desperate to show my support for the Heberts, despite my determination to keep my distance from Gus. It was unfair how much the crowd loved the Gagnons.
The competitors, all carefully spaced apart, were given axes.
Once they were lined up and equipped, a loud air horn blasted, and then they were swinging.
I had not anticipated the sheer heat that would overtake me as I watched Gus swing an axe.
He was not as quick as some of the others, but he was powerful and precise.
Every movement was graceful and strong. Time ceased to exist as the muscles in his forearms rippled and his powerful legs flexed, anchoring him to the floor.
The stage was lined with a certified lumberjack buffet, all ages, sizes, and types. But I only had eyes for one.
His expression was one of pure focus, and his body was performing a delicate dance of strength and grace.
Down here on the grass, I was a puddle of pure hormones, yelling and screaming and cheering his name.
I didn’t care who heard. All I wanted at that moment was for him to feel like someone was on his team.
Every swing and crack ripped through me, every move he made pulled me toward the stage. Around me, people were cheering. One of the men had already finished his log, but I didn’t care. I was too busy watching Gus.
When he finished, he dropped his axe and mopped his brow with the hem of his T-shirt, exposing a few inches of tanned skin and dark hair.
And when he looked out at the crowd, his eyes immediately met mine, as if he were as drawn to me as I was to him.
I bit my lip so hard I thought I might draw blood as the intensity in his gaze hit me.
His chest heaved from exertion beneath his T-shirt, and the muscles in his forearms flexed.
Shit. I clenched my fists, willing my body to stay put. My legs wanted to carry me up there and send me jumping into his arms. But that was insane. Maybe the heat was getting to me. Had I had enough water today?
“That was so much fun,” Karl said, pulling me out of the staring contest I’d inadvertently entered.
I turned, blinking, and focused on him. “Yeah.”
“That Remy guy was so fast,” JJ said as the Gagnons were crowned the winning team.
I floated in a daze as people around us chatted and music played. That had been… something. I was wandering toward a row of tents, in search of bottled water, when a strong hand landed on my shoulder.
I turned and found myself face to face with Gus.
He was sweaty and still a bit out of breath. Up close, it was hard to miss how hard his T-shirt was working to contain his heaving chest.
He led me around the back of the tents toward a small copse of trees.
“I saw you, Dragonfly,” he said when we stepped into the forest. He tipped my chin up and forced me to look at him.
“It was a fun event,” I said, willing my racing heart to slow. “You did a good job.”
He chuckled softly. “I had no chance of winning. And that was before I got distracted by how beautiful you look in that dress.”
My breath hitched, and butterflies took flight in my belly.
“I saw you cheering for me. Don’t deny it.” He smirked. “You liked my moves.”
I huffed. It was the best I could do. When he was this close, it was impossible to formulate a pithy response. My body arched toward him involuntarily, and my brain fought to gain control of my raging hormones.
He slid a hand down my arm and settled it on my hip. Energy pulsated between us, and the noise and the crowd disappeared. It was just the two of us beneath these trees.
It was thrilling and familiar all at once.
He tilted my chin up, his touch gentle.
I exhaled. He was going to kiss me. And for some insane reason, I was going to let him. Despite every rational part of me shouting that it was a terrible idea.
He moved in closer. So close I could feel his breath on my skin.
I closed my eyes.
His lips ghosted over my earlobe, startling me.
“Next time,” he whispered, making my knees buckle. “I’ll give you a private show.”