Northern Fascination. JENNIFER LABRECQUE
up on the sidewalk, seemingly impervious to the frigid air and snow. The unmistakable aroma of wood smoke mingled with the scent of evergreens. Working here wouldn’t be a hardship for the crew the company would send in to man the operation.
He exchanged hellos with a man he passed on the sidewalk. The guy sported a full beard—right now Logan wouldn’t mind a beard to keep his face warm—and a fur hat which Logan had no doubt was the genuine article.
A group of kids chased one another down the sidewalk, their laughter and yelling ringing in the air. A dirty pick-up truck sporting a set of antlers as a hood ornament drove down the street past him. The few cars and trucks parked along the street were unwashed and obviously had years and miles on them.
And then he was there. Across the street was Curl’s—the name and services were written across the picture window fronting the business—but more telling was the woman he saw through the window.
Jenna stood talking to two women. A tall blonde woman towered over Jenna and another woman with long dark hair. But it was Jenna who held his attention. His heart thumped against his rib cage and despite the cold, a fine sheen of sweat popped up on his skin. If anything, she was even lovelier than he remembered. Her Facebook photo hadn’t done her justice.
He stood on the sidewalk and drank in the sight of her, like a man viewing one of the world’s natural wonders for the first time. Her blond hair hung slightly past her shoulders. Animated, she smiled and laughed with the other women, her face glowing. She’d always radiated vitality.
A light pink sweater dress clung to and outlined all of her curves. Somewhere between graduation and now, she’d obviously had a breast enhancement. Logan preferred the real thing and as far as he was concerned, she’d been damn near perfect in high school. Still, women were going to do what women were going to do. Dana, Kyle’s secretary, had bought herself new breasts. Silicone or not, Jenna took his breath away.
He stood stock-still, feeling paralyzed, hearing his racing pulse pound in his ears.
“Hey, buddy. Are you okay? You need directions or something?” a guy around Logan’s age and height asked, rousing Logan out of his trance, stupor or whatever you wanted to call it. Idiocy seemed to fit the bill as well.
“Uh, yeah. I was just getting my bearings.”
“That shouldn’t take long, considering the size of our town,” the other guy said with a friendly grin, shoving his gloved hand in Logan’s direction. “We haven’t met. I’m Dalton Saunders. I hear Juliette brought you in earlier today. I’m the other pilot in town.”
Logan shook the guy’s hand. “Logan Jeffries. Pleased to meet you.”
Dalton eyed Logan’s thin jacket sympathetically. “I also hear they redirected your luggage. I won’t hold you up. See you around.”
“Sure. Nice to meet you.”
Dalton took off with a jaunty step, whistling beneath his breath. Logan crossed the street, eager to get this over with before he could make an even bigger fool of himself. Then again, it wasn’t the first time he’d stood around, gaping at Jenna.
“THANKS AGAIN, JENNA. They look great,” Donna said, admiring her new set of nails. Donna ran the small engine repair shop in town. Even with gloves on, it was tough on her hands. Solar nails had turned out to be Donna’s best bet.
Once upon a time, long before Jenna had met her, Donna had been Don and apparently quite a football star at a Midwestern university. Donna was one of Jenna’s favorite people in town. Jenna admired anyone who had the courage to follow their heart, regardless of the censure they encountered, not that Donna found any here. That was one of the things Jenna loved about Good Riddance—everyone accepted everyone else for who and what they were.
“They do look good,” Jenna said, echoing Donna’s admiration even while she felt all tangled up inside. Logan was out there. She felt him, sensed him. It had been that way in high school as well. It was as if some radar went off inside her. Then she’d turn a corner and he’d be standing there. She had that same internal alarm going off now.
Jangled or not, Jenna turned to Ellie Lightfoot. “Thanks for stopping by, Ellie. I’m looking forward to working with you.”
Donna laughed. “I’m looking forward to you working on me.”
Ellie, her long dark hair hanging down her back in a single plait, smiled shyly. “I’m looking forward to it, as well. My instructor says I have strong hands but a gentle touch—a good combination.”
The native woman, around Jenna’s age, was a school teacher but had spent her summer getting certified in massage. She’d approached Jenna about working in the spa and Jenna desperately needed a massage therapist. Quiet Ellie would be perfect for the job.
Jenna knew she’d dated Clint Sisnuket before Clint had found love with Tessa Bellingham. Ellie had been in twice for a mani/pedi in the past eight months but was always very quiet.
“Same time next week?” Donna said, she and Ellie heading for the door.
“Sure thing. I’ve got you down in my book. And Ellie, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Ellie was going to stop by and demo her neck massage technique for Jenna. Jenna, however, was confident that Ellie would do just fine.
Donna opened the door, stepping outside, and Jenna heard her say, “Oh, hi. You’re going in?”
“Yes, thanks.”
She’d recognize that voice anywhere, anytime, even if Merrilee hadn’t given her a heads up that Logan was here. There was a rich, melodious quality to his voice that had always sent a shiver through her. And it still did.
And then he was standing there in front of her, and she didn’t know how to identify the feelings rolling through her. The door closed behind him. The front section of Curl’s wasn’t spacious by any means but it seemed to shrink considerably once she and Logan were sharing the space. The universe seemed to stop and she lost herself in the depths of his brown eyes.
Silence filled the distance between them, connecting them. Time and age had changed him. His dark hair was longer than it had been years ago. It brushed his collar, a hint of a wave in the lock hanging over his forehead. She liked it.
He still had the prettiest, sexiest eyes she’d ever seen on a man, a medium-chocolate brown fringed by dark lashes. And that mouth. It was still ever so kissable, even though she’d never had the opportunity to find out firsthand.
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