Page 5 of Burly Lumberjack

Pamela snorts. “Please. You blushed so hard when Rowan Nelson walked in earlier, I thought you were gonna combust. And he looked at you like hewantedto combust right along with you.”

I reach for the saltshakers, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the heat creeping up the back of my neck. “He just stopped by to say he’d picked up more porch supplies. That’s it.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, dropping ketchup bottles into a bin under the counter. “Because people run errands and justhappento stop into diners for no reason all the time.”

“I didn’t say it was for no reason,” I hedge. “I just—I don’t know.”

“Did he order anything?”

“No.”

“Exactly.” Pamela straightens and props a hand on her hip. “Ophelia. He came here foryou.”

I hesitate, a stack of napkins in my hand. “You think so?” How is it that everyone sees his intention more than I do? Am I just blinded by my own crush on him?

Pamela’s look softens just a bit. “Honey, I’ve seen a lot of men come through this diner, and none of them look at you like he does. He comes in to see you, not for the food. And you certainly don’t look at anyone the way you look at him.”

I want to believe her. I want to believe that the heat I thought I saw in Rowan’s eyes when I told him we were out of cherry pie was real. That he came in not for pie or coffee, but because he wanted to seeme.I want to believe the tightening of his jaw and the way his voice had gone all rough and low meant something more.

But what if I’m wrong?

“He’s just being nice,” I say, softer this time.

“Nice doesn’t come with that much sexual tension,” Pamela teases, finishing her refills.

I laugh, startled, and nearly drop a napkin holder. “You’re terrible.”

“I’m observant.” She nudges me with her elbow. “And I’m telling you, the next time he’s at your house? That man is gonna be on your porch not just to fix boards but to make a move. And if he doesn’t?Youshould.”

I don’t answer. I’ve never been forward with a man in my life, and have no idea how to do that. The idea of doing anything with Rowan fills my stomach with butterflies, but I know he’s who I want more than anyone else in the world.

Still, the hope flickers.

“He said he’d come by tomorrow afternoon,” I say, stacking napkin holders back into place.

“It’s practically a date. Wear something sexy,” Pamela says with a grin.

“It is not a date,” I insist, but in my mind, it kind of is. At least, it is because we’ll see each other, even if he’ll just be fixing my porch.

“Mm-hmm.”

She disappears into the back with a crate, and I turn to the front of the diner, letting out a long breath. The space is quiet now, with the sun spilling through the windows.

Rowan had only been here for a minute, maybe less. But my whole body reacted the second he stepped through the door.

I don’tknowwhy he came in. But Isure dohope it was because he wanted to see me.

I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. Not like this. Not with this kind of heat curling low in my belly just from a look. I don’t even know what todowith this feeling, only that it’s wild and terrifying. It makes me want things I don’t know how to describe but feel in my heart and soul.

Tomorrow afternoon. I’ll see him then.

And I don’t know what will happen. But maybe I should take Pamela’s advice and wear something sexy.

“Lookslike someone’s getting ready to bake a pie.”

I nearly jump, turning to find Leesa standing beside me, one brow arched as she peeks into my shopping cart. She’s holding a basket filled with apples, a jug of milk tucked against her side.

“I…um…yeah,” I stammer. “Just figured I’d make something sweet for tomorrow.”

---