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He moved my arms up and back. “When you swing up, think about making a smooth arc. And when it comes over your shoulder, you have to really use your strength to drive it.”
He made the motion with my arms a few times, his large hands gripping my biceps and taking control. Clearly, it had been a while since I’d been touched, because my body lit up like a circuit, and his touch was the electricity coursing through it.
He took a few steps back. “Now try again,” he commanded.
I bit my lip. Damn. His deep, masculine voice was even more sexy when he was bossing me around. Thoughts of his incessant nagging about my organization skills and messiness faded away and were replaced with visions of what else that voice could command me to do.
“Parker,” he barked again.
I nodded. Okay, it was go time. I was a former cop, for Christ’s sake. I could deadlift more than my body weight. There was no reason I couldn’t chop wood.
Focusing on re-creating the way it felt when he’d guided my arms, I swung. As the head came over my shoulder, I used my legs to push down as hard as I could while clenching my eyes shut.
At the sound of a low whistle, I cracked one eye open, then the other. Before me, on either side of the log, were two pieces of wood. I had split it clean in two.
In my periphery, the corner of Paz’s mouth quirked. It was probably the closest thing to a smile his face was capable of creating. “You did it.”
I couldn’t contain my excitement. I grinned. “It felt easy. Like slicing through butter.”
“Exactly. Because your muscles were cooperating with gravity, and you hit it just right. It’s about precision, not brute strength. Try again. This one’s thicker.”
He lined up another one, giving me an encouraging nod. “This time, keep your eyes open.”
And I did it again, cutting it right down the middle.
“She’s good,” Henri remarked, lumbering toward us with a smile.
“She lifts a lot,” Paz said, giving me a nod. “Adele said, and this is a quote, that I should get off my coddled ass and get back in the gym because my girlfriend is a badass.”
“Sounds about right,” Henri said, planting his hands on his hips and giving me an approving look.
I was already lining up the next piece of wood, addicted to the power and accomplishment coursing through my veins.
After the third piece, I chopped about a dozen more, carefully stacking up the split wood in what was already an impressive pile.
When I was finished, I was sweating and proud and had definitely created new calluses. But I was pretty psyched. Because I couldn’t resist, I took a selfie of myself with my maul and texted it to Liv. She replied instantly.
Ur a country bitch now. Next stop: tractor pulls and cow tipping.
“You did great,” Alice said, carrying a couple of blankets and a bottle of wine. “Henri made me chop wood when I moved here. He caught me lusting after him and made me do it myself.”
“That’s kind of hot,” Hazel said, accepting a blanket.
“Yeah. At the time, I was annoyed. Took me a while to realize it was foreplay.” She wiggled her eyebrows and held a thick blanket out to me.
Laughing, I accepted her offering. Though I’d worked up a sweat, the October air was quickly cooling my damp skin.
Alice nodded to a set of large log benches nearby, then led us that way and settled near the end of one. “Hazel doesn’t drink, but can I offer you a glass of red?” She held up a bottle that had been resting against the log and a small stack of plastic cups.
“Um… sure.”
“Trust me, it will be a while. And this way we can get to know you.”
I accepted the wine, and we chatted while the guys talked about axes or whatever counts for conversation in the lumberjack world.
Alice told stories about her kids and her school and her upcoming wedding. Her happiness was so all-consuming it poured out of her like a fountain. “Things were so hard when I first got here.” She shook her head. “I was constantly embarrassing myself in front of Henri and the town, but over time, things clicked. And now, a year later, I’ve got two kids, and I’m about to get married.”
Hazel held up her water bottle. “I propose a toast. To Alice, who never gave up on herself, or on love.”
