7. Harper #2
“Welcome, folks, to the twelfth annual log splitting contest. The rules are simple: split as many logs as you can in two minutes. The winner gets a medal, bragging rights, and this year, a free massage at The Driftwood Spa, and a ten-minute recovery rubdown right after the event.” He waves a hand in our direction before shooting the crowd a playful wink, which, honestly, just looks awkward on him and makes me cringe a little as I wave to the crowd.
A few of the guys that had been watching Wren earlier turn toward us.
Their eyes light up, and their cheering gets even more enthusiastic from that announcement.
The field of contestants all move to get into position for the start.
Unable to resist, I peek back over at Mr. Sexy Arms. He turns his cap backward before putting on the required goggles, and fuck me, if I don’t get a little wet at the sight. Jesus, what is wrong with me today?
I edge closer, trying to make out more of his features.
For a brief second, our eyes meet, and I feel like a butterfly pinned to a board.
One side of his mouth hitches in a devastatingly sexy smirk.
I gasp as the countdown begins. I feel Wren’s gaze on me, and I studiously avoid it, knowing she’s too damn perceptive, and I’m not dealing with her right now.
The contestants step up to the thick rounds of hardwood that will act as chopping blocks, each with a log perched on top and an axe embedded in the ground beside it.
The gun fires, signaling the start of the event, and it’s a frenzy.
The thwack of metal meeting wood reverberates through the clearing.
Within seconds, the thwacks are joined with the cracking and popping of wood splitting apart.
Wood chips fly through the air, raining down like confetti.
People are screaming and cheering, calling out the names of friends or loved ones competing.
Trying and failing to scan the crowd, I give in and watch the newcomer.
He swings his axe with smooth assured motions, the blade hitting its mark each time.
His shirt pulls tight against his back with each swing, and with the power behind every hit, I can only imagine the muscles beneath that shirt.
The pile of split logs grows all around the chopping block, but he doesn’t slow.
Distantly, I register the jarring twang of a missed chop, or the loud curse of a participant when their log goes flying off the block instead of splitting.
A foghorn sounds through the den of axes chopping.
“That’s it, folks, axes down! Judges, let's start tallying!” Paul announces.
Members of the local high school football team fan out.
Mr. Paul donates one thousand dollars to the team each year for their help in the event to assist with costs for the upcoming season.
They each take a section to count the chopped wood and record totals.
Dust hovers in the air, and contestants are bent over as their ragged breathing fills the space, while the crowd speculates who the winner will be based on the piles surrounding the blocks.
“Well, that was an incredible display of masculine strength.” Wren laughs, and I can’t help but agree.
Yet again, my eyes stray over to the guy covered in tattoos.
Based on the large piles of chopped logs littering the space around him, I’d wager he has a good chance of winning.
The idea sends heat straight to my core, because if he does, no way in hell is Wren doing the honors.
The tallying only takes a few minutes, and Mr. Paul steps on stage again. “Well, folks, not only do we have a winner for today, but this contestant has broken our previous record by five!” The crowd erupts into cheers. “And the winner is Jace McConnell.”
Sexy tattoo man throws his hands up in victory.
The men around him clap him on the back as he makes his way to the stage.
I follow, ready to present the gift card, and congratulate him.
Taking the stage, I have to steady my nerves.
I place my palm against my stomach to try and calm the roiling feeling building inside.
I hate being in front of crowds, but remind myself this is for the spa, and therefore for Lizzie, which gives me the boost I need to take the microphone.
“Congratulations, Mr. McConnell, and on behalf of the town of Juniper Falls, I present you with your medal, and from The Driftwood Spa, here is your gift card for a free massage.” I pause, letting the cheers die down while I place the medal around his neck.
He has to bend down quite a bit for me to reach over his head.
Damn, he’s much bigger up close, well over six foot, broad shouldered, and bless me, those corded forearms are still on display and look even sexier than I imagined.
My mind spins with images of those arms pinning me to a wall while this dark-haired god of a man takes me.
Blinking, I work to clear my mind, only to find the most gorgeous sky-blue eyes trained on mine, with a grin pulling at his lips.
Taking a small step back, I peel my gaze from him and look at the crowd.
“And, Mr. McConnell, as an extra bonus for all that work, you can head over to The Driftwood Spa booth for a ten-minute rubdown to loosen those muscles.”
“Yo, Harper, you or Wren sharing that love with anyone else tonight?” someone calls from the crowd, laughter fills the air, and I can feel my cheeks warming. Fuck, I have to get off this stage.
“Not unless you’re paying, bro!” Wren yells, saving my ass. This makes everyone laugh and allows me to escape from the spotlight before I do something stupid.