Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
I laugh, grateful for the reprieve. “Now, that would be terrifying.”
Reed steps into view, wiping sweat from his brow with the hem of his T-shirt, exposing a chiseled torso and a confidence that borders on indecent. He doesn’t miss the way my eyes flick toward him and drink him in or hide his satisfaction. Instead, his smirk turns wicked. “You’re not terrifying. You’re a damn revelation.”
He’s shameless, but it works. His grin is disarming, and the way he looks at me like I’m something rare makes my stomach tighten in a way I’d nearly forgotten was possible.
Finn appears next, sleeves rolled to his elbows, sawdust dusting his forearms and clinging to the waves of his hair. That same quiet warmth settles on his face. He gives me a casual once-over.
“Find anything you like?” he asks.
The question is innocent, but Nixon tenses beside me.
“I found a lot I like,” I say, letting the double meaning linger in the air, tired of pretending I don’t feel the pulse of wildness threading through this place.
Reed tilts his head. “You gonna stick around longer than a day?”
“Maybe,” I admit. “If the product’s right. And the company.”
Finn’s gaze flickers to Nixon, who, judging by the set of his jaw, isn’t used to this kind of flirtation.
Reed gives a low whistle. “Well, damn. If you’re angling for the deluxe tour, I could take you out back. Show you the log lift. Hell, the mill’s got rhythm like you wouldn’t believe.”
“I bet it does.”
“Reed,” Nixon warns, voice low and blunt-edged.
But Reed grins and walks off, whistling.
Finn clears his throat, shooting me a glance that’s half apology, half intrigue. “We’ve got some cherry wood in the back. You want to take a look?”
“I do.”
As he leads me deeper into the yard, Nixon hangs back. Watching. Assessing.
And for the first time, I don’t mind.
7
NIXON
Scarlet touches a walnut slab like it’s capable of appreciating her gentle reverence. Her fingers trace the grain the way I’ve only ever seen Finn do, as if the wood is speaking to her and she’s listening carefully for its secrets.
I lean against the beam out of reach, arms crossed, watching her. She doesn’t notice. She’s too lost in her work. I didn’t expect to like that about her.
“You’re good with your hands,” I say before I can stop myself.
She glances at me over her shoulder, brows raised. “You wouldn’t believe how often people assume I pick out colors and shapes and call myself a furniture designer.”
I can believe it. A woman like her, who’s fine-boned and feminine, but wrapped in lean muscle and strong opinion, must confuse people. They want to put her in a box, but she doesn’t fit. I rub my beard, considering her.
Reed emerges from the side shed, wiping sawdust off his chest, looking far too pleased to see her. I grit my teeth. He’s got that look again, the one that always precedes him doing or saying something idiotic.
“Careful, Red,” he drawls. “Keep caressing that slab like that and it’ll start groaning.”
Scarlet laughs a short burst that’s bright and real, and the sound hits me like a punch.
Reed is a pain in the ass, but he knows how to bring joy to people. I don’t. That’s not my job.
I lead. I protect. I carry the weight.
Laughter isn’t part of what makes an alpha.
I wait until Reed disappears again before stepping forward.
“You like this one?” I point to the slab she’s caressing. “We’ve got a few more from the same tree. Took it down last fall. An old black walnut. Finn cried when we milled it.”
She smiles, tucking a strand of beautiful red hair behind her ear. “I might cry, too, when I run my hand across it one more time.”
I’m not prepared for the image she creates of her hands moving over my chest, her lips parting. Fuck. I turn away.
“Cherry, walnut, oak. You name it, we’ve cut it,” I say, trying to rein in the heat rising in my blood. “We can handle any size order. Even rush jobs if the client is worth the time.”
Her gaze pins me. “Am I?”
I tip my head. “You tell me.”
There’s a pause. Tension coils between us, laced with unspoken intention.
Scarlet shifts her weight on her crutch, her jeans hugging long legs and curving hips that are not helping my self-control. She’s not even trying to be sexy, and that’s what makes it worse. Everything about her is unfiltered. Her irritation, her fascination, and her defiance. She holds nothing back and I don’t know how to deal with such transparent, deeply felt emotions.
“You should get off that foot,” I say finally. “You’re pushing it.”
“I’m not glass,” she says, jaw lifting.
No, she’s steel. And fire. And temptation in human form.
“Even steel bends,” I mutter, stepping closer. “And I’d rather not carry you back again if you collapse in the damn dirt.”