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)
He narrows his eyes, a small smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Busy trying to finish this project, but you seem determined to slow me down.”
There’s a playfulness to our exchanges now, a subtle shift from the biting tension that marked our earlier encounters. I step closer, brushing past him as I inspect the progress. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t cut corners.”
The air between us feels different tonight—charged. I can feel the heat from his body as I stand near him, my shoulder grazing his arm as we look over the blueprints spread out on a makeshift table. The brush of contact sends a spark down my spine, and I glance up at him, our eyes locking.
His gaze is intense, deeper than usual, and for a moment, I can’t look away. “We’ve got it figured out, don’t we?” I murmur, my voice softer than I intended.
“Yeah,” he replies, his voice low and gravelly. “We do.”
The silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken tension. My pulse quickens, my breath catching in my throat. I could lean in, close the gap between us, but instead, I pull back, breaking the moment. I can’t let myself fall for this—not yet. The walls I’ve built around my heart are still too high, too fortified.
I turn away, pretending to inspect the walls going up around us, but my thoughts keep drifting back to Pope. He’s different from what I expected. Yes, he’s grumpy and rough around the edges, but there’s something deeper underneath all that—something I can’t quite figure out.
Still, there’s a part of me that’s holding back, that’s afraid to let go. I can’t risk letting someone in again, not after the last time. My mind replays moments from my past—how I trusted too easily, how everything crumbled when I wasn’t looking. I can’t go through that again.
Pope moves beside me, his presence grounding me, but also stirring something inside I’m not sure I’m ready to face. He senses it too, the way I pull back just as things start to feel… close. I can see the frustration in his eyes, the way his jaw tightens when I retreat.
He watches me now, his arms crossed as he leans against one of the beams. “You always do that,” he mutters, more to himself than to me.
“Do what?” I ask, feigning ignorance.
“Pull away,” he says simply. “Every time we get close, you retreat.”
I swallow hard, not sure how to respond. He’s right, but I’m not ready to explain why. Not yet. “It’s not—” I start, but the words die in my throat.
He shakes his head, his voice softening. “You don’t have to explain. I get it.” His eyes meet mine, and there’s something vulnerable in them that I wasn’t expecting. “I’m not him, Ruby. Whoever hurt you before… I’m not that guy.”
I flinch at his words, my walls going up even higher. “I’m fine,” I lie, my voice barely above a whisper.
“No, you’re not,” Pope says, his voice low and steady. “And that’s okay.”
His words hit me harder than I expect. There’s something about the way he says it, with no judgment, no pressure, just… understanding. I bite my lip, fighting the urge to let my guard down completely. I want to trust him, but the fear of heartache looms large.
Pope steps closer, and I feel the heat from his body again, the air between us thick with tension. “You don’t have to be fine all the time,” he says quietly, his voice rough but sincere. “If you ever want to talk… I’m here.”
I nod, my throat tight, but I can’t find the words to respond. Instead, I look away, focusing on the half-built walls surrounding us. I don’t want to talk, not about that. Not yet.
We fall into a quiet rhythm after that, the unspoken tension hanging in the air but not quite ready to be addressed. Pope doesn’t push, and I’m grateful for that. Instead, we work side by side, the silence between us comfortable now, not strained like before.
Later that night, as the sky darkens and the stars begin to twinkle overhead, we sit together on a bench near the site. The sounds of the night fill the space around us—the soft rustle of leaves, the distant hum of crickets. It’s peaceful here, and for the first time in a long while, I feel a sense of calm.
Pope leans back, his arms resting on his knees as he stares out at the construction. “You’re different from most people I’ve worked with,” he says, his voice thoughtful.
I raise an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Different good, or different annoying?”
He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Both, I think.”
I laugh, the sound light and genuine, and for a moment, everything feels… easy. It’s a far cry from the sharp exchanges we had when we first met, a sign of how far we’ve come.