Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
The air outside bites at my skin as I step out of the truck. I linger for a moment, letting the cold seep in, hoping it will douse the fire that’s been building inside me since I left The Devil’s Brew. But when I open the cabin door and see her, it’s useless.
She’s in my chair, her legs tucked under her, a blanket draped over her lap. Bear is at her feet, his tail thumping lazily when he sees me. She looks up, and her face lights up in a way that hits me square in the chest. Damn, my girl looks good in my life.
"Hey," she says softly, closing her book. "How was your night?"
"Fine," I grunt, pulling off my jacket and hanging it by the door. "Yours?"
"Quiet," she says, her smile teasing. "Well, except for Bear. He snores louder than you do."
I smirk, shaking my head. "Didn’t think that was possible."
She laughs, and the sound wraps around me, pulling me in. I want to hold onto it, to let it fill the empty spaces I’ve been carrying for too long.
"You hungry?" she asks, standing and smoothing the blanket over the chair. "I made shepherd’s pie and blueberry muffins for the kids at school. There’s plenty extra if you want some."
I nod, my throat tight. She moves toward the kitchen, her movements easy and unhurried, like she belongs here. Like she’s always belonged here.
"You don’t have to do all this, you know," I say, following her. "Cooking, cleaning...taking care of Bear. It’s not your job."
She turns, a wooden spoon in hand, and raises an eyebrow. "I like taking care of things, Grady. It’s just who I am."
Her words settle over me, a quiet truth that I can’t argue with. But it’s more than that. It’s the way she says my name, soft and certain, like she’s not afraid of the weight it carries.
I take a step closer, my voice rough. "You’ve been good to him. Bear, I mean. He loves you."
Her cheeks flush, and she looks down, scooping shepherd’s pie onto my plate. "He’s easy to love."
So are you, I think, but I don’t say it. Instead, I reach out, my hand brushing hers as I take the spoon from her. The contact is brief, but it sparks something between us, a heat that neither of us can ignore.
"Go sit," I say, my voice gruff. "I’ll finish this."
She hesitates, her eyes searching mine, and for a moment, I think she’s going to argue. But then she nods, stepping back and letting me take over.
As I pull out napkins and fill water glasses, the cabin feels smaller, the air thicker. I can feel her behind me, her presence as warm and steady as the fire crackling in the hearth. And for the first time in a long time, I let myself wonder what it would be like to keep her here. To let her soften the hard edges of my life. To let her love me the way she loves Bear—without hesitation or expectation.
When I’m finished, we sit at the small table, the silence between us comfortable but charged. She thanks me for the meal, her smile bright and sincere, and I feel something shift inside me.
As we clear the dishes, our hands brush again, and this time, neither of us pulls away. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and uncertain, and I see everything I’m feeling mirrored back at me.
"Grady," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I don’t know what she’s going to say, and I don’t let her finish. Instead, I close the distance between us, my hands framing her face as I kiss her.
It’s soft at first, tentative, but then she leans into me, her hands gripping my shirt, and the world falls away. She tastes like warmth and possibility, and I’m lost in her, in the way she fits against me, in the way she sighs my name like it’s the only thing she needs.
When we finally pull apart, she’s breathless, her cheeks flushed, and I know I’m done for.
"You’re dangerous, Sarah," I say, my voice low.
She smiles, her eyes shining with something I can’t name. "So are you, Grady."
And just like that, the walls I’ve spent years building start to crumble.
Chapter Six
Sarah
The first clap of thunder rattles the cabin as I set the kettle on the stove. I glance toward the window, where rain lashes against the glass in furious sheets. The storm is relentless, but it’s the cozy warmth of the cabin that settles over me like a blanket.
“Storm’s worse than they said it’d be,” Grady says from the couch, his voice low and rough, like gravel on a quiet road. He’s got a deck of cards in one hand, shuffling them with an ease that’s almost hypnotic. Bear lies sprawled at his feet, his tail thumping lazily whenever Grady’s voice dips toward affection.