Page 9 of Her Bossy Lumberjack

Goddammit, why didn’t I kiss her?

It was the perfect moment, but I hesitated. Now I’m more frustrated than ever, and something tells me that resisting this girl is only going to get harder.

5

HANNAH

I open my car window, letting the sun warm my bare arms as I drive to the cherry orchard on the outskirts of town. My pie is in the passenger seat. I slaved over it for hours, messing up at least five times before I got it perfect. I may not be from Cherry Hollow, but I think I stand a fighting chance of winning this thing.

The Cherry Festival is in a wide open field next to the orchard, the waterfall-streaked mountains towering around it. I park in the designated lot, hearing the echoes of live music and chattering crowds. The place is packed, and I recognize several faces as customers from the bakery. I was a little nervous that I might bump into Andrea, but there are enough people here to make me feel safe. Clearly, this festival attracts people from all around Crave County, not just residents of Cherry Hollow.

I follow the ambling crowd, smiling around at all the attractions. Booths selling everything from handcrafted furniture to freshly baked desserts; drinks stands dedicated to cherry coke, cherry milkshakes, and cherry smoothies; a merry-go-round and Ferris wheel; carnival games and prizes; a petting zoo; kids running around holding sticks of cotton candy, cherries painted on their cheeks, all bathed in sunshine beneath the forget-me-not blue sky.

God, I love it here.

I catch sight of Diane standing behind her booth loaded with desserts, her cherry cheesecake in pride of place.

“Hey!” she calls, grinning when she sees me. “You made it.”

I grin back at her. “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

Her eyes flicker to the pie in my hands. “That looks great! You better go put it on the judge’s table. The pie competition usually starts pretty early.”

She points out a row of tables all laden with cherry pies, each with a name beside them. I put my pie down and add my name, glancing around to see if Kane is anywhere nearby. My eyes have been peeled for him since the moment I got here, looking out for his giant frame towering over the crowd.

“That your pie, Ginger Snap?”

The deep voice sounds from right behind me, sending a shiver down my spine as I swivel around, heart thudding. Kane is looking down at me.

How can a man this big move so darn quietly?

“Yes,” I say, trying not to betray how happy I am to see him. “That’s why it has the name Hannah next to it. You know, my actual name?”

“Hmm.” Kane inspects my pie, raising an appraising eyebrow. “Looks pretty damn good. You sure you’re not from Cherry Hollow?”

“Positive.” I can’t help beaming at his praise. “Where’s your pie?”

“Already here.”

He points to a pie a few places to the left of mine. I have to admit, it looks perfect. Golden and flaky, the filling red and juicy.

“Not bad,” I say, attempting to sound nonchalant as I shrug my shoulders.

Kane chuckles hoarsely. “Still sure you’re gonna beat me?”

No way in hell.

“One hundred percent!”

He smiles. “We’ll see. Either way, I’m impressed.”

“So am I,” I admit. “Your pie looks great. Annoyingly great.”

“Damn.” Kane shakes his head. “Can’t have been easy to admit that.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Wanna go get a cherry sundae? Might make you feel better about being nice to me.”

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