Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Callum’s eyes widen as he lifts the sledgehammer back over his shoulder, his muscles flexing with the effort. And damn, those muscles. Each move shows off the way his biceps and shoulders stretch beneath the fabric of his shirt, and I can’t help but stare. It’s like watching a sculptor chiseling away at marble, every line and curve carved to perfection.
It’s becoming harder and harder to look away.
“No way in hell are you holding it while I take a swing. If I miss again and hit you…no, absolutely not. I’ve got this,” he insists, his jaw setting in determination.
I smirk at his confidence, but the truth is, he’s all strength and no precision right now. The post isn’t going anywhere at this rate, and we’ve still got a whole section of the fence to repair. But I don’t mind. There’s something about working alongside him like this, the two of us out here together, that feels strangely intimate. The quiet of the early morning, the sounds of the ranch waking up around us, and the occasional shared laugh—it’s like we’re finding a rhythm.
“You’re gonna throw your back out if you keep swinging like that,” I tease, stepping closer to inspect the post, which is still stubbornly tilted.
He shoots me a look of mock offense. “I’d like to see you try then, hotshot.”
“Oh, I’ve got this.” I grab the sledgehammer from him, grinning up at his slightly shocked expression.
Callum steps back, crossing his arms, his eyes never leaving me. I can feel the heat of his gaze as I adjust my grip and line up the hammer with the post. Years of doing this kind of work have made me stronger than I look, and with one solid swing, the sledgehammer connects with the post, driving it deeper into the ground with a satisfying thunk.
I turn to him, breathless but triumphant. “See? All about technique.”
Callum laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. “All right, I’m impressed.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” I say, handing the sledgehammer back to him. “I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you.”
“Clearly,” he mutters, but there’s a playful gleam in his eyes. “Maybe you should just handle the hammer from now on. I’ll hold the post.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Oh, so now it’s okay for you to hold the post?”
“Only because I trust you not to miss,” he replies with a grin, and something about the way he says it makes my heart skip a beat.
We fall into an easy rhythm after that—Callum holding the post while I swing the hammer. It’s slower than if I were doing it alone, but I’m enjoying it. There’s something strangely comforting about working side by side, about the small jokes and banter we share as we go. The physical closeness feels... right in a way I hadn’t anticipated.
Every now and then, I catch Callum watching me with a look I can’t quite place. It’s like something soft, something that makes my pulse quicken, and my breath catch in my throat. There's a quiet intensity in his eyes, as if he's seeing me in a way no one else has before. It’s more than just the playful banter or the comfortable silence we share. It’s something deeper, something almost... amazed.
And every time I see that look, my stomach flutters, my heart skips a beat, and I wonder. Does he feel the same pull I do? Especially after that kiss last night.
That kiss I told him to forget.
But how can I expect him to forget it when I can’t get it out of my head? It’s like it’s burned into my memory, a searing moment that I keep replaying. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was something raw, something intense, the kind of kiss that changes things.
I’d told him to forget about it, pretending it was a spur-of-the-moment mistake. But the truth is, I’ve done nothing but think about it.
The way his lips had pressed against mine, soft at first but quickly deepening with hunger. The heat of his body as he pulled me closer, his strong hands gripping my waist like he couldn’t bear to let go. I remember the sensation of his beard brushing against my skin, the way his breath mingled with mine as we kissed like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I wasn’t prepared for the rush of emotions it stirred in me. The way my body responded to him, the electric current that sparked between us. It was the most intense, passionate kiss I’ve ever experienced.
The way it felt being in his arms, as if the world outside us didn’t exist for those few moments. There was something about it that felt so intimate, so right. It wasn’t just about the physical connection, though that was undeniable. It was like we were sharing a piece of ourselves with each other, a glimpse into something we’ve been trying to deny.