Page 10 of Her Bossy Lumberjack

I press my lips together to stop myself from smiling wider than a Cheshire Cat.

“Sounds good,” I say.

Kane guides me to an ice cream booth, easily parting the crowd with his hulking body. I follow behind him, feeling like a mouse in the shadow of a grizzly bear. But I love it. Kane radiates raw power, from his thick biceps to his giant height. His inked forearms and wild beard only add to the panty-melting effect, and I can’t believe I’m walking around in public with this gorgeous beast of a man. He makes everything and everyone look tiny by comparison, and it sends a thrill of desire through my body.

Kane buys us both a sundae called the Cherry Hollow Special: vanilla ice cream, whipped cream, cherry sauce, dark chocolate sprinkles, and a final cherry on top.

“This is incredible,” I say, scooping up every last bit of ice cream. “This town sure knows how to make desserts.”

“Everybody has a sweet tooth here.”

Kane is looking down at me, his eyes fixed on my mouth. He raises his hand to my face and I suck in a breath as his thumb brushes the corner of my lips. The world seems to melt away as we stare at each other, the festival nothing but background noise. My skin burns where he touched me, and I’m finding it a lot harder to breathe.

“You had a little cherry sauce,” he says, his voice hoarse.

All I can do is nod dumbly.

Suddenly, I want to be away from the crowds, away from the laughter and the chatter. I want to be alone with Kane—just him and me. He seems to read my mind.

“Come on,” he says decisively. “We’re going cherry-picking.”

I blink up at him. “Alright, bossy. Let’s do it.”

The urge to hold his hand as we walk through the crowd is overwhelming. It’s crazy. I’m not his girlfriend; I’m just the stubborn redhead who likes to talk back to him. But somehow, being by his side feels so right. All my worries feel a million miles away when Kane is beside me, and all the crap from Silvercrest is like a different planet, a different world, totally separate from the happy bubble surrounding me as I follow him away from the crowd and toward the cherry orchard.

The trees are green and leafy, dotted with thousands of juicy red cherries. They stretch as far as the eye can see, glinting like scarlet jewels in the sunlight.

“You’re sure we’re allowed to pick them?” I ask, looking around wide-eyed.

“Sure. A pound of cherries each—it’s included in the festival entrance fee.”

I watch as Kane grabs each of us a basket before reaching up to pick a handful of cherries.

“I think,” I say as I raise up on my tiptoes, trying to reach, “that one of us has a slight advantage here.”

Kane chuckles and grabs the cherry for me, standing so close that I can feel the warmth radiating from him. “Here you go, Short Snap.”

“Short Snap? That doesn’t even make sense! You…you Big Giant Snap.”

“You’re gonna have to work on that one.”

I roll my eyes, biting back a smile as I reach up again for another cherry, straining my arm with all my might. A second later, I feel my feet leave the floor, and I let out a gasp of surprise as Kane’s powerful hands clutch my hips, lifting me effortlessly. I’m a big, curvy girl, but he holds me like I’m as light as the basket he’s carrying, and I shiver at the feel of his rough hands gripping me tight.

Dazedly, I grab a handful of cherries before Kane sets me down again.

“Th-thanks.”

He makes a noise deep in his throat. “No problem.”

There’s a delicious scent in the air, but it’s not the fruity sweetness of the orchard. It’s Kane. He smells like leather and pinewood, fresh and masculine, and I want to bury my face against his plaid shirt and breathe him in.

But I force myself to take a step away, heading toward a lower-hanging branch. With my back to Kane, I take a few deep breaths, steadying myself. This man is too much. He’s a walking fantasy that I never knew I had, and I’m pretty sure that if I spend too much longer with him, I’ll be nothing but a puddle by the time I leave this festival.

“Can I ask you something, Ginger Snap?”

I don’t dare turn around. Kane will see my feelings written all over my face. Instead, I busy myself with picking cherries, glancing over my shoulder just long enough to say, “Sure.”

“What brought you to Cherry Hollow?”

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