Give it to you.“I’d love for you to give it to me.”
Her face scrunches up. “Don’t be a pervert—it’s too early.”
“Sorry.” It’s a habit. After pulling my phone out of my pocket, I set it in her palm. “But fair warning, it’s almost dead. No signal out here.”
She snorts. “That happens in the mountains sometimes. And let me guess—you don’t have a charger either?”
“Left it in my other flannel,” I admit. “The one that matches my suspenders.”
She doesn’t respond. Rather, she focuses on punching her friend Annabelle’s number into my cell. Her fingers move quickly over the screen, and I take the moment to study her—messy bun, slightly crooked smile. It’s an easy kind of energy, making it hard not to smile back.
Or want to bone her.
“There.” She hands my phone back. “All set. Now you havenoexcuses.” Her eyes roam up and down my body. “You’d better not let her down, Lumberjack.”
Let her down?
I’m a football player, not a goddamn lumberjack. The fact that she believes me has donewondersfor my ego.
“Don’t worry,” I say, flashing her the teeth that cost me $60,000 out of pocket. “When I show up, I’ll be the best goddamn emergency lumberjack this town has seen.”
Her laughter follows her as she begins walking toward the counter. “We’ll see about that.”
“What’s your name?”
She studies me a few seconds. “Lucy.”
Lucy.
I play the name on a loop through my brain as I watch her order breakfast, chatting up the barista, and I find myself grinning like an idiot as I replay the last few minutes in my head. She orders a muffin—blueberry—and a steaming cup of tea. No coffee for her, apparently.
“What?” she asks.
“Nothing,” I say, straightening up and attempting to look less like a guy who’s been caught staring at her ass. “Only making sure you’ve got enough fuel for yoga.”
She smirks, biting into the muffin. “Yoga’s harder than chopping wood, I’ll have you know. You might want to try it sometime.”
Pass.
Hard. Pass.
“Just so you know, I can already touch my toes,” I boast. “I choose not to.”
She giggles softly, tossing the muffin wrapper into the trash as she clutches the tea. “Flexibility is the key to a long and healthy life.”
“Flexibility is overrated,” I counter, resisting the urge to flex my muscles. “Strength gets the job done.”
Lucy sighs. “Good luck with that. I’ll be sure to cheer you on at the Fall Fest if I see you.”
Not gonna happen, but I nod anyway.
“I’ll make it look easy,” I shoot back with a grin. “The other dudes won’t know what hit them.”
“Well. I’ll look forward to it.” She steps toward the door, pausing to glance back over her shoulder. “See you around, Mr. Lumberjack.”
Mr. Lumberjack.
I like the sound of that.
