“Simple and no big deal? Stop flattering me.” My bestie narrows her eyes at me, but I can see she’s pleased with the praise. “You make me sound like some kind of hero.” Annabelle tosses her hair.
I laugh. “Someone has to be the hero of the Fall Fest. And it sure as hell won’t beClarke.”
“Freaking Clarke,” Annabelle grumbles. “I swear to God. The worst part is, he’s the only one I could get to volunteer! And can we not forget it’s high season? I got stopped twice outside Loon Landing Café this morning by tourists asking for directions to the nearest Starbucks.”
The nearest Starbucks is fifty-five miles away, if that gives you any idea about how remote we are.
She rests her chin in her hand, looking genuinely stressed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if the rest of those lumberjacks don’t show up, Luce. I mean, three guys can’t split all those logs by themselves. It’ll take them all day!”
All the logs?
How many logs does she have if she needs all those men?
I nibble on my bottom lip. “Well, hmm. You could always fake it? Set up a bunch of already-split logs and let people pretend to chop them for fun.” I grin, half joking. “Throw in a hashtag like #StarLakeStrong and you’ll have people lining up for their turn with an axe.”
If we don’t mind all those severed limbs.
Annabelle stares at me for a moment, like she’s actually considering it. “You know, that’s not the worst idea.”
“Uh. I was kidding. Say it with me: liability.”
She shrugs, sipping her wine again. “It’s better than people showing up to a lumberjack demo with no jacks and no demo. Besides, it’s all about theaesthetic, right?”
So she keeps pointing out. “You really think people won’t notice the logs are already chopped?”
“Have youmettourists? They’ll take one look at those flannel-wearing hunks holding an axe and think they’re witnessing some kind of historicalreenactment.” She leans back in her chair, looking wise and pleased with herself. “Trust me, they won’t care.”
I snort. “Well, in that case, maybe you should have the lumberjacksposewith the logs and skip the chopping altogether. They can hand out autographs after.”
“I know you’re joking, but don’t think I wouldn’t do it if I got desperate.”
A loud laugh interrupts our musings, and we glance over at a group of buff dudes sitting several tables away.
They’re loud, obnoxious—and trying to impress anyone within a fifty-foot radius. One of them is currently attempting to flip quarters into a beer glass, only for one to fly off the table and onto the floor. It spins before dropping with a metallic clank.
So immature.
“What are they, still in college?” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “Look how competitive they’re acting. Like, jeez, they’re flipping those things like there’s a prize?”
Annabelle sips her wine. “Guys will do anything if it comes with a trophy at the end.”
“True,” I say, watching as another big guy attempts to get the quarter in the glass with a flick of his index finger. But it sails through the air and hits the person at the next table in the back.
“Honestly, I’d pay money to seethemchop wood,” I reluctantly admit.
Annabelle raises an eyebrow. “Would you actually?”
I smile despite myself. “Those big, sweaty muscles? Swinging axes in the sun? Uh—yes.”
She grins. “Yeah, me too.”
I laugh and take a sip of my drink. “I’m only human, after all.”
And I haven’t gotten laid in ... Lord.
I have no idea how long—which isn’t a good sign.
Annabelle and I turn to ogle the group again. “They’re pretty to look at—I’ll give them that. Even if they have the combined brainpower of alightbulb.”
