8. Jace
Jace
Winning the log splitting contest had been more about bragging rights against Blake than anything else.
My folks own a cabin in Washington, and I spent more days than I could count splitting wood for fires.
Eventually, Caleb, my younger brother, and I started making it a competition.
I am still the undisputed champ of the McConnell clan, and now, Juniper Falls.
Caleb is gonna be so pissy when I tell him, ever the sore spot for my little bro.
The fact that I spotted a gorgeous woman watching me right before the event had only fueled my fire to win.
Winning had taken on a whole new level when, to my surprise, she came on stage to present me with the medal and massage card.
She’s several inches shorter than me but commands every ounce of my attention.
Her chestnut hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail with a few soft wisps that have come loose, framing her face that is effortlessly beautiful.
Her fitted jeans have rips through them, giving me little peeks of tan skin beneath, making my mind run wild as I imagine my hands on that skin, and she’s in a fitted black tee that says Driftwood Spa across the chest. Her whole casual vibe is topped with classical black high-top Converse.
Every aspect of her look is casual, but it winds me up.
Someone in the crowd shouts, asking for her to rub them, and I have to grit my teeth to keep from telling them to fuck off. Her friend deflects the attention, which clearly made her uncomfortable, making me like her friend already.
Following her down from the platform, I watch the way those fitted jeans hug her curves, molding to her ass as she moves.
What I wouldn’t give to sink to my knees and bite that ass.
Once off the stage, she turns to me, the breeze sending a few flyaway strands of hair into her face.
My fingers itch to touch it, but she smiles at me, tucking the wayward hair behind her ear.
Our eyes meet, and I notice little flecks of gold mixed in with her brown eyes.
She’s stunning. Something jolts through me, and I dart a look at her left hand.
Thank fuck, there’s no ring there. I would have felt a little bad ogling some man's wife, but I’m pretty sure I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.
She keeps calling me Mr. McConnell, and that is not working for me. “Please, call me Jace.” I reach for her hand in greeting, proud of my smooth segway into touching her.
“Harper.” She grasps my hand, and honest to God, I feel a little pulse of energy course through me. I can’t seem to let go. She drops my hand as her friend approaches, and I notice she’s also wearing a Driftwood Spa shirt. Shit, is she the one doing the massage? Disappointment floods my veins.
“Jace, you want to follow me to our booth? Let me work on those muscles you just abused?”
Relief hits me like a tidal wave. Hoping to mask my eagerness, I just smile and gesture for her to go ahead. “Lead the way.”
She calls to the other girl, who is grinning wickedly, letting her know she’s taking me for the chair massage.
I’m about to look away when I spot her friend mouthing, “Get it girl,” and shooting two thumbs up to Harper, who instantly turns beet red as she fixes her friend with a deadly stare.
Unable to stop it, I smile, biting my lip to keep the laugh in.
When she shoots her head toward me, I attempt to cover my grin with my fist, but she looks like she hopes the earth will open up and swallow her whole.
She recovers quickly, clearing her throat before casually saying, “This way.” She fidgets with the hem of her shirt as we walk through the crowd. “That was pretty impressive back there, you obviously know your way around some wood.”
I nearly blackout at the comment, every impure thought I’ve had of her flooding my system, and there have been a lot for only having just met her. Our eyes meet, mine likely heated with lust, hers filled with pure horror.
She’s so damn cute. Her reaction is adorably embarrassed and flustered. “I guess you could say that,” I drawl, stepping a little closer, unable to resist the pull to be near her. Her eyes flare wide and she stammers.
“That’s the booth there, and uh...you can take the seat under the tree.”
We stand frozen, staring at each other. It’s on the tip of my tongue to make a wood joke, but as cute as her being all flustered is, I take pity on her and settle into the chair without any further comment.
Sainthood, I deserve sainthood for this.
Then her hands are on me, massaging and kneading into my stiff muscles, and her touch sends images spiraling through me that are anything but saintly.
She leans in, really working on my shoulder, and her breasts skims over my back.
My cock thickens in my pants, making me shift a little, and I mentally shout at him to stand down.
Yeah...sainthood has definitely been revoked.
“Are you just here for the festival?” Harper’s voice pulls me from my internal dick scolding.
“Kind of. My company is doing the reconstruction of the shopping strip in town that was damaged during a fire. I’m here to get things moving and hand them off to my foreman.”
“Oh, yeah, the ones off Elm. I heard the rumor that someone had bought the property. It’ll be great to have something there again. There is something so sad about a burnt-out, empty shell of a building. Don’t you think?”
I’m nodding along, her voice smooth and rich. “I guess I hadn't really thought about it, but there is something beautiful in watching a building be brought back to life after something like that.”
Her hands pause, and I wince at how dumb that must have sounded.
“That’s a beautiful way of looking at it. I can be a bit glass half empty sometimes, so it’s always nice when someone comes along and challenges those negative thoughts. Thank you.”
“I became a contractor because I love breathing new life into old structures.
I rarely do full new builds. Unfortunately, in this case, we have to demo the whole thing—the structure was too far gone.
I did manage to save a few scraps of the original building and plan to see if our interior designer can work them in somewhere to preserve a piece of its history. "
“I can’t wait to see it. There have been rumors flying around about what’s going in.
” She leans over my shoulder, so close that her hair brushes against my ear, and I can smell the floral scent that clings to it.
“Can you give me the inside scoop? I would love to beat Ms. Holloway to a piece of town gossip for once! She’s always strutting around, spilling all the tea.
Just once, I want to see her face when I know something she doesn’t. ”
A loud bark of laughter busts from my mouth, earning me an even bigger smile from Harper.
It lights up her whole face, and I notice the tiniest dimples in her cheeks when she does.
Willing to do just about anything to get a smile like that from her, I lean in conspiratorially.
“Only because you just gave me a killer massage. The final contracts have been signed, and zoning approval came in just before the festival started, so this is hot off the press, Harper. It’s going to be a women's boutique.” Her face drops a little, huh, guess she isn’t a big clothes girl.
“Then there will be a cafe, and a bookstore.” The spark returns and she pumps a fist in the air.
“Okay, okay, you’re speaking my love language, gimme all the books! Now, when you say cafe, do you mean coffee, pastries, and baked goods, or lunches and cute meals?”
“Hmm, cute meals? I don't know about that, but Gary, the owner of the buildings, did mention soups and sandwiches, so I’m thinking option two.”
“Whew! I would hate to have to boycott a new business, seeing as I’m a Toasted Bean loyalist. Which, if you haven’t stopped by, you have to. Bree, the owner, makes the best muffins and stuffed croissants, and she’s a coffee master. She’s the reason I had to take up running again.”
I twist in the chair and give her body a slow perusal. “Whatever you’re doing is working.” She blushes so prettily. I know our time is winding down, but I’m not ready to say goodbye.
“Well, don’t you two look so cute and cozy over here!
” a voice interrupts us. Harper jumps, stepping away quickly enough to look all kinds of suspicious, and I’m finding there isn’t much this woman does that I don’t find charming.
“You know, Harper, Ms. Gregory just set out her strawberry tarts. You should take your new friend over to get one before they sell out.”
Harper is shooting daggers at her, and in my mind, it’s official, her friend is an angel. “Strawberry tarts sound amazing.” I shoot a conspiratorial wink at Harper’s friend who does a little happy jig.
“As great as that sounds, Wren, it doesn’t seem fair to leave you at the booth alone. I should probably stay and help.” Harper bites her lower lip, working it with her front teeth, drawing my attention to her mouth. Her lips are full and utterly kissable.
“Oh, I don’t mind, plus, I do not want to be around you if you miss out on those tarts, Harper. You’ve been talking about them for weeks, and I’ve already seen you hangry once this month,” leaning toward me, she mock whispers, “and that was more than enough, like a rabid bear that girl.”
“You know what, Wren, tarts sound delicious. I’m gonna go get some now,” Harper says while smiling through gritted teeth, cheeks flaming and adorably rattled as she spins away.
Before I follow, I glance at Wren and mouth thank you.
It has been a hot minute since I met anyone that I was this desperate for more time with.