Page 52 of Rough and Rugged
“Stop,” Ginger groans, pressing at her brother’s belly and standing straighter. Her hair sticks up and Ginger runs those pretty manicured fingers over the mop of curls and tucks them into a ponytail on top of her head. The glint of her engagement ring hits me square in the eye and right in the chest.
Her fiancé is a douche canoe.
“What’s up first?” she asks.
Grant claps his hands once, rubs them together and announces. “Beer for breakfast. It contains the most important food group. Fiber.” He winks and adds, “Hops and barley.”
Ginger giggles while wrinkling that pert nose again. “I’ll pass. I need something a little more substantial before I consume watered-down fiber.”
Grant shakes his head, acting disappointed in his sister when he admires the hell out of her. Both Solomons are impressive. They went to college, earned degrees, and are financially successful. I, on the other hand, inherited my granddad’s lumber company, something of a local institution. I’ve been working there since high school, hoping to move on to other things, but when Pops got sick, Dad needed my help. Now, both are gone, and I’m in charge.
“So, beer it is, then,” Grant states, ignoring his sister’s request and moving away toward the beer tent on the festival grounds. The local townspeople didn’t want beer served before noon, but we’d found a loophole, and the hoppy beverage will have a long life today.
I might even start indulging myself because I don’t know how I’ll pass the day in Ginger’s presence.
As we follow Grant, Ginger walks beside me, remaining quiet a second before asking, “What events are you competing in today?”
I shrug. “Probably log rolling. Ax throwing. And whatever else comes my way.”
“Like letting a logger girl ride your lumber?”
Stumbling over my feet at her sudden crassness and the mere suggestion, I stop short and stutter. “What the—”
Ginger spins around, walking backwards a few steps while watching me. Her eyes roam down my bulky form. A smirk twists those kissable lips, but her eyes harden. “Yeah, I know the key events you and my brother are interested in, but I won’t be participating in any of those shenanigans.”
“Oh, yeah, and what events will you be partaking in?” My lips match the crook of her mouth.
“Maybe I’ll try log rolling and ax throwing.”
I scoff. Ginger is a solid girl, curvy in all the right places. I have no doubt she can handle herself in a dark alley, but I don’t want her participating in any events here today. Irrationally, I don’t want her drawing attention to herself, because she’s every man’s wet dream, even if her clothes make her look a little stodgy. And that ring isn’t going to protect her from men hitting on her.
“What?” She stops, fisting her hands and setting them on those hourglass hips. “You don’t think I can’t do it?”
“I know you can’t,” I challenge, although Ginger is one of the most capable women I know and one who is impossible to dissuade once she puts her mind to something. Her fierce attitude is one thing, among many, that I love about her.
And, yes, I willingly admit I’m in love with my best friend’s younger sister. For twenty-something years, I’ve crushed on her, and I’m the only person who knows it.
“We’ll see.” Ginger narrows those blue eyes, the flame in them flickering before she spins around to follow her brother into the beer tent.
Shamelessly, I check out her ass. The swell of each cheek is just right. Her hips wide before tapering into solid thighs. Fuck, she’s a dream, and I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight, fantasizing about my face between her legs.
Scrubbing a hand over my ragged beard, I sigh.
It’s going to be a long day.
Chapter Two
Ginger
EllisDuncanissucha pain in my ass. Too bad he’s also hot as sin. Those broad shoulders. That solid back. Those forearms, thick like the trees surrounding us. He’s been the leading man in my many fantasies for years.
When I was fourteen, I made a fool of myself, throwing myself at my brother’s best friend, begging him for my first kiss. I’d had a crush on him forever. From the rumblings between my brother and Ellis, he was a kiss-master, and he could have my lip-virginity.
Only, he laughed in my face. Literally. Told me I couldn’t be serious and then watched as my lower lip trembled and my teenage heart shattered. I’d been such an idiot. When I ran away from him then, he’d called after me, but I’ve never looked back. Never wanted to look him in the face again. And for the better part of two decades, I haven’t had to see him often.
Sure, there was the occasional family party or holiday that Grant invited Ellis to attend. However, Ellis rarely took up the expensive offers. He was busy running his granddad’s lumber company. I was so proud of him. He’d been lost as a teen, wanting something bigger than our hometown, but not certain college was his path. He hadn’t needed higher education in a traditional sense. He had life experience.
Now, he owned Duncan Lumber, his legacy. Too bad it meant his business involved cutting down trees.