My throat felt scratchy, and my feet itched to run right out of here. Suddenly, her easygoing charm and passion for food insecurity made me angry. She was gorgeous and charitable, and she was a local who, from the looks of it, might have had a past with my ex-husband.
“You okay, boss?” JJ elbowed her way through the crowd to me, holding out a plastic cup. Without even a glance inside it, I went to take a gulp. But the smell, pure alcohol mixed with something fruity, made me gag. I handed it back to her, grumping about finding water.
Karl followed, balancing two hot dogs, a basket of fried dough, and a molasses cookie in his arms.
They both eyed me suspiciously, Karl giving me a once-over with one brow raised. I uncrossed my arms, aware that my body language probably looked insane for a Sunday afternoon charity fundraiser. I needed to do something with my hands. It would help hide the rage fantasy I was currently having about a woman I’d never met.
“And let’s welcome our other team: Finn, Gus, and Jude Hebert!”
The crowd was far less enthusiastic. In fact, there were a few boos.
Shit. As the new owner of Hebert Timber, this was concerning. So I put my fingers in my mouth and whistled. Loudly. I elbowed JJ and Karl, who broke into a round of cheers with me.
The guys shook hands as I studied the lineup on stage. Gus was the oldest and the thickest. Unlike his brothers, he didn’t look like he ran marathons on the weekends. Even from a distance, the sprinkling of salt in his beard was visible, and his thick hair was tucked behind his ears.
Fuck. I swore I could feel those blue eyes gazing out at me through the crowd.
There was no denying he was all man. And in my vulnerable state, I couldn’t tear my attention away. His attractiveness was offensive, but even worse was how damn helpful and respectful he’d been since I arrived. I’d expected him to resist the changes I’d put in place, fight me on decision-making, and second-guess JJ’s evaluations. But instead, he asked thoughtful questions, followed orders, and seemed committed to making the business work.
I’d counted on him being a stubborn ass. I figured his ego and bad attitude would be enough insulation from the heat, but he had the ego on a leash, and the bad attitude I was certain I’d encounter was nonexistent. There was no saving me now. I was veering into full-blown infatuation. And my younger self was panicking.
Victoria returned to the mic. “If you look at the perimeter, you’ll see volunteers with red and green buckets. Place your bets there, people. Every dollar counts. And while the team who chops the most wood technically wins, the real winner is which team gets the most donations. Every single bet enters you to win one of the many amazing raffle prizes from our sponsors. And remember. Losers get a blueberry pie to the face!”
The cheers were overwhelming. Screw the lumberjack shit. I’d easily pay ten grand to throw a pie in Gus’s face.
All around us, the townspeople waved cash at the volunteers. On stage, Victoria listed out the prizes.
People were flocking toward the left side, where the Gagnon volunteers were handing out raffle tickets and collecting money in their green buckets. They were clearly the good guys in this scenario. I had nothing against the family or their business. How could I? I’d only heard annoyingly good things about all of them, and so far, they had proven to be fair business partners when necessary.
“Who is the Viking in Hebert Green up there?” Karl asked. “Do we employ him?”
An older woman next to us, wearing a flowy caftan and at least a dozen necklaces, laughed. “Oh, you must be new in town. That’s Finn Hebert, darling. He’s engaged to Adele Gagnon.”
Karl offered her the molasses cookie the size of my face and she broke off a small piece.
“Quite the scandal when he knocked her up.” She waggled her brows and popped the cookie into her mouth.
“Gotta love the small-town rumor mill,” JJ remarked.
With a smile, the woman wiped her hand on her skirt and then held it out to JJ. “I’m Francine DuPont.”
“The gossip about these two families could fill a set of encyclopedias,” she said after we’d all introduced ourselves. “Rivals. Have hated each other for generations. The bad blood goes way back.”
While Mrs. DuPont wove a dramatic tale worthy of an HBO prestige drama, I scanned the crowd, noting the kids running wild and the lines of people waiting for blueberry pie. The scene was both familiar and foreign all at once.
It felt like Maine, though not the Maine I’d grown up in. This was the idealized version that I’d always craved. We didn’t have many events or festivals in Heartsborough. It was safe to say that my hometown lacked the delightful New England charm of its neighbor. Where Lovewell got the lake and winding country roads, Heartsborough got the interstate and several abandoned paper mills.
The crowd was frenzied as Victoria called for an end to the bets.
Karl elbowed me. “My money’s on the other guys.”
JJ glared at him. “Those are our employees up there. Show some support.”
“You see that one? Up there?” Mrs. DuPont pointed a bony finger at a lean, muscular man on the Gagnon team. “That’s Remy Gagnon. He’s a professional timbersports athlete. Been on magazine covers and stuff. It’s not much of a competition with him here, but it’s all for fun.”
As the crowd chanted the Gagnons’ names, my stomach twisted. The strange feeling was only compounded when I got a look at the green buckets overflowing with bills.
I reached into my small crossbody bag and pulled out my wallet. “Here,” I said, handing JJ a one-hundred-dollar bill. “Go bet on our team.”
She raised an eyebrow at me. “It’s for charity.”
“Boss lady does love an underdog,” Karl joked.
As volunteers hauled out the equipment, music blasted from the speakers on either side of the stage. Once it was all set up, Victoria explained the rules of the standing block chop.
I stood on my tiptoes so I could see the stage as she continued. Each competitor had a giant block of wood that stood vertically in a metal stand. The goal was to chop through it from both sides as quickly as possible.
Huh. So they were simulating chopping down a tree.
I found myself sizing up the Gagnons. I wanted to watch with detached amusement like Karl and JJ, but I did care. This was my company, and those were my employees. Jude was there, his expression mostly shuttered. And Gus. He stood tall, listening politely as people booed him.
It was so him. He’d probably let people throw rotten tomatoes at him if it increased donations for the food pantry. The sight of him made my heart melt. Dammit, he was good. Deep down, in all the right places. And he’d been through hell with his father and the police and losing the company. Yet after all that, he was here, doing his part.
Suddenly, I was hit with a pang of guilt. I’d forced him to stay. He could be across the country, with a new job and a new home in a new town. A town where no one cared what his last name was or what his father had done.
But he’d given up the opportunity in order to make the sale. To guarantee his employees would have jobs and that his brothers would be compensated. A bolt of white-hot shame washed through me. Because I’d contributed to his unhappiness. I’d leveraged my own anger and hurt to punish him.
My resolve wavered. Regardless of how badly he’d behaved twenty years ago, did he really deserve this punishment now?