Chloe
“This might be my favorite day ever,” Karl gushed. “It’s like we’re in a small-town Hallmark movie. A wood-chopping competition? On the town common? For charity?” He spun around dramatically, his arms flung out like Maria in the opening scene of The Sound of Music. “How can this be real life?”
“He’s really in his small-town era,” JJ deadpanned. “I’m worried about him.”
“It’s all the fresh air,” He said, his tone breathy.
I could practically see the cartoon hearts dancing above his head.
“And the views. Not to mention the house on the lake boss lady here got for us. On my run this morning, I saw a whole herd of deer frolicking in a meadow. We’re not in Seattle anymore, ladies.”
Karl’s sunny yet sharp personality was one of my favorite things about him. It was a testament to his character that he could remain positive despite his past. And it was rubbing off on me. Every day, I appreciated this place a little more.
“So you’ll stay forever?” JJ asked with a sarcastic smirk.
Karl froze, and his look of pure elation morphed into a grimace.
“Fuck no. The nearest Starbucks is over an hour away. But it’s a fun place to spend the summer.
” With a shrug, he scanned the outdoor space.
“Ooh. Food trucks. I’m starving.” He pulled JJ toward tents and trucks lined up on the periphery of the park.
“I’ll find a spot,” I said, pointing toward the platform where people were assembling. I still wasn’t sure why I was here, exactly, other than because my curiosity had gotten the better of me. And Karl probably would have dragged me even if I’d refused.
The town common was packed, and despite my wedges, I couldn’t see over the crowd to find a good spot. I was just scoping out the side of the large stage when I heard someone call my name.
“Ms. LeBlanc?” a man asked.
I turned and found a skinny man in his early thirties with thinning hair smiling at me. I had an immediate visceral reaction to his presence and took a step back, putting space between us.
He kept smiling.
“Dennis Huxley,” he said, holding out one hand.
He was dressed like a grandfather after a round of golf, in a shiny polo shirt and pleated chinos, but as he reached his hand out, I noticed a tattoo snaking up his forearm. Some kind of branch or tree. Weird.
The last thing I wanted to do was touch this person, but I relented, giving his hand a quick shake.
“Have we met?” I asked, confused by his familiarity.
“No, but it’s about time we did. My family is very connected in town. And I’ve heard so much about you.”
Odd. I wasn’t sure how to respond. Not that he needed much encouragement.
“My father is Charles Huxley.” He paused, as if I should recognize that name.
I just nodded.
“Anyway, I’d love to get coffee sometime and connect, businessperson to businessperson,” he said, his beady eyes twinkling. The way he said businessperson made me think we had vastly different definitions of what constituted business.
“We could really help each other out.” He over-enunciated the t on the word out, and it made me want to jump out of my skin. I’d learned a long time ago to trust my instincts, and right now they were telling me to get far away from Dennis.
I nodded politely, cutting him off and pretending to wave at a stranger in the crowd. “I’m sorry. I’ve been looking for my friend. It was nice meeting you.”
Quickly, I pushed by him, not giving him a chance to respond, and weaved through the thickening crowd to the far side of the park, trying to forget the feel of his slimy hand.
I found a spot on the side of the crowd that was close enough to allow us to see the action.
Being short, I always feared missing out in these situations.
I texted Karl and JJ so they’d know where to find me and pulled my oversized sunglasses out of my bag.
It would be far easier to stare at everyone from behind them.
The emcee was stepping up to the mic as I approached the gathering. “Thank you all for coming to the first annual charity lumberjack games.”
The crowd roared so raucously I had to fight the urge to cover my ears. I took in my surroundings, marveling at the turnout. There were hundreds of people here, all placing bets at the elaborately decorated booths.
Kids ran around with foam axes, pretending to chop inanimate objects and one another, and adults were milling around with Solo cups filled with booze. Apparently, open container laws did not apply here.
The woman on the stage looked to be in her thirties, with long, raven hair pulled into a ponytail and killer red lipstick.
She was lean yet curvy and confident and had a plaid shirt tied around her waist. Along with the denim skirt and work boots, she looked like a sexy lumber-jill. Instantly, I wanted to be her friend.
“I am Victoria Randolph. Many of you know me as the director of the Greater Havenport Food Pantry. I know you’re all waiting with bated breath for the result of the blueberry pie competition, but first, we have a little entertainment.”
“Thanks to a genius suggestion from Mr. Finn Hebert, the food pantry put together a little fundraiser today. As you know, this town is home to two of the largest logging companies in the great state of Maine, so we thought it was about time we put these lumberjacks to the test.
“We invited these kind gentlemen up here today to help us raise money to fight food insecurity in western Maine. Give it up for our lumberjacks!”
The crowd roared as several men filed onto the stage. Each man who appeared was pure lumberjack. Tall, slightly less tall, broad, and even broader. It was like a police lineup for the crime of forestry.
Victoria greeted each of them, giving high fives and fist bumps.
These guys had all donned green T-shirts that said Team Gagnon. They were burly types, with dark hair and a strong family resemblance. So these were the famous Gagnon brothers. Fascinating.
“Here we have Henri, Pascal, and Remy Gagnon.”
The crowd cheered loudly.
Then Gus stepped on the stage, and all the air left my lungs. The man hated crowds, but he didn’t look uncomfortable. Not one bit. No, he looked mad and really hot.
Like his brothers, who followed him out, he was wearing work pants, boots, and a red T-shirt that stretched across his broad chest and said Team Hebert.
Victoria, the naturally gorgeous emcee, walked up to Gus and threw her arms around him in a bear hug, which he returned.
My heart sank.
Were they dating?
Had they dated?
Why did I care?
My throat felt scratchy, and my feet itched to run right out of here. Suddenly, her easygoing charm and passion for food insecurity made me angry. She was gorgeous and charitable, and she was a local who, from the looks of it, might have had a past with my ex-husband.
“You okay, boss?” JJ elbowed her way through the crowd to me, holding out a plastic cup. Without even a glance inside it, I went to take a gulp. But the smell, pure alcohol mixed with something fruity, made me gag. I handed it back to her, grumping about finding water.
Karl followed, balancing two hot dogs, a basket of fried dough, and a molasses cookie in his arms.
They both eyed me suspiciously, Karl giving me a once-over with one brow raised.
I uncrossed my arms, aware that my body language probably looked insane for a Sunday afternoon charity fundraiser.
I needed to do something with my hands. It would help hide the rage fantasy I was currently having about a woman I’d never met.
“And let’s welcome our other team: Finn, Gus, and Jude Hebert!”
The crowd was far less enthusiastic. In fact, there were a few boos.
Shit. As the new owner of Hebert Timber, this was concerning. So I put my fingers in my mouth and whistled. Loudly. I elbowed JJ and Karl, who broke into a round of cheers with me.
The guys shook hands as I studied the lineup on stage. Gus was the oldest and the thickest. Unlike his brothers, he didn’t look like he ran marathons on the weekends. Even from a distance, the sprinkling of salt in his beard was visible, and his thick hair was tucked behind his ears.
Fuck. I swore I could feel those blue eyes gazing out at me through the crowd.
There was no denying he was all man. And in my vulnerable state, I couldn’t tear my attention away.
His attractiveness was offensive, but even worse was how damn helpful and respectful he’d been since I arrived.
I’d expected him to resist the changes I’d put in place, fight me on decision-making, and second-guess JJ’s evaluations.
But instead, he asked thoughtful questions, followed orders, and seemed committed to making the business work.
I’d counted on him being a stubborn ass.
I figured his ego and bad attitude would be enough insulation from the heat, but he had the ego on a leash, and the bad attitude I was certain I’d encounter was nonexistent.
There was no saving me now. I was veering into full-blown infatuation. And my younger self was panicking.
Victoria returned to the mic. “If you look at the perimeter, you’ll see volunteers with red and green buckets.
Place your bets there, people. Every dollar counts.
And while the team who chops the most wood technically wins, the real winner is which team gets the most donations.
Every single bet enters you to win one of the many amazing raffle prizes from our sponsors.
And remember. Losers get a blueberry pie to the face! ”
The cheers were overwhelming. Screw the lumberjack shit. I’d easily pay ten grand to throw a pie in Gus’s face.
All around us, the townspeople waved cash at the volunteers. On stage, Victoria listed out the prizes.