Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
“I don’t cut corners,” Pope mutters, his voice gruff but lacking the sharp edge it had earlier. He’s still irritated, but something in the way he looks at me has shifted. Like he’s seeing me differently now. Not just as an annoyance but as someone who isn’t going to let him get away with shutting me out.
I step closer to one of the beams, noticing that something seems off with the alignment. I crouch down, running my fingers along the base to check the foundation. Pope watches me silently, and I can feel his gaze on me, the weight of it making my heart beat faster for reasons I’m not entirely ready to admit.
I stand up, brushing the dust from my hands, and point to the spot I was inspecting. “You missed a spot,” I say softly, my voice steady even though my pulse is racing. I glance up at him, a teasing smile playing on my lips. I don’t know why I’m pushing him like this, but there’s something about challenging Pope that’s become… fun. Maybe even a little thrilling.
Pope stiffens, his muscles tensing as if he’s trying to keep himself in check. His eyes darken slightly as they lock with mine, and for a moment, the air between us feels electric, like we’re standing on the edge of something neither of us is willing to name yet.
“I don’t miss spots,” he mutters, but his voice sounds different this time—less sure, more like he’s trying to convince himself than me. I raise an eyebrow, amused by how flustered he’s becoming. It’s strange seeing someone so composed and controlled unravel, even if just a little.
I hold his gaze, letting the silence stretch between us. It feels heavy, charged with something that’s been simmering under the surface since the moment we met yesterday. He takes a small step back, like he needs the space to breathe, but I can tell by the way his eyes flicker over me that he’s just as affected by this tension as I am.
Pope huffs, running a hand over his face like he’s trying to shake off whatever just happened between us. “I’ve got work to do,” he says gruffly, his tone a little too forced. He turns away, clearly trying to end the conversation, to push me away before either of us says or does something we’ll regret. But I know this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
I watch him for a moment, a small smile tugging at my lips. Pope might be gruff and intimidating, but I’m starting to see past that rough exterior. He’s more than just a carpenter; there’s something deeper there, something I’m curious about. And I’m not backing down.
“Well, don’t let me stop you,” I say lightly, turning to leave, but I make sure to glance back at him one last time. “I’ll be back to check on things. I want to make sure this library turns out right.”
Pope doesn’t respond, but I catch the way his shoulders tense, like he’s bracing himself for the next round. I head back toward the entrance, already planning my next move. This library is important, sure, but Pope? He’s quickly becoming a different kind of project. The Steele brothers are famous in Copper Mountain, but Pope is the first one I’ve officially met. They were all all-star football players, each of them handsome enough to be homecoming kings in their class, and all of them famous for their unwillingness to settle down–proud bachelors every one of them. And if they all have the same gruff manor as the man standing before me, I can see why.
As I walk away, I can still feel the tension crackling between us, like a live wire that’s just waiting to spark. Whatever this is, it’s not going away. And the more time I spend with Pope, the more I’m starting to think I don’t want it to.
Chapter Three
Ruby
I step into the small hardware store later that afternoon, the familiar scent of dust and old wood hitting me as I make my way down the aisle. The old man behind the counter gives me a nod, but I don’t linger, heading straight for the heating section. I grab a furnace filter and some cleaning supplies, trying to ignore the tight knot in my stomach. As I reach for another item, a low voice murmurs right next to my ear, startling me. “Sure you got the right size?”
That voice. It sends a shiver straight down my spine. I choke on the breath I was holding, slowly turning to face him. There he is. Pope Steele. My carpenter.
“Yes, thanks,” I mutter, turning away from his gaze, which feels like it’s burning straight through me. His broad shoulders and cocky smile are still etched into my mind, no matter how hard I try to shake them.