Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
She’s not backing down, though. She squares her shoulders and looks me dead in the eye. “I’m sure,” she says, her tone just as steady as before.
Damn.
I hold her gaze for a second longer, my muscles tense. There’s something here, something sparking between us, and it’s not just the heat of the forge. I can feel it, like the pull of molten iron to the magnet. I want to resist, to keep her at arm’s length, but it’s already too late. I’m hooked.
“I’ll help you,” I say finally, my voice a low growl. “But it’s gonna take time. And you’re gonna have to pull your weight.”
Her smile widens, and something in my chest tightens at the sight of it. “Deal,” she says, holding out her hand.
I hesitate for a second before reaching out, wrapping my rough fingers around her smaller, softer ones. Her skin is warm, smooth, and for a moment, I wonder what it would feel like to hold her for real. To feel her body pressed against mine. But I shove that thought down, reminding myself that I don’t need this kind of distraction.
She pulls her hand back, her fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary, and then she turns to leave. I watch her go, my eyes trailing down to the sway of her hips as she walks out the door, her floral scent still lingering in the air.
I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this. But damn if I can help it.
As the door swings shut behind her, I feel something stir deep inside me—something I haven’t felt in a long time.
I turn back to the forge, trying to shake it off. But it’s too late. She’s already gotten under my skin.
And I have a feeling this is only the beginning.
Chapter Two
Perry
The heat in the forge is relentless, thick and stifling, even in the early afternoon. The sound of Knox’s hammer rings through the space, rhythmic and steady, like a pulse that keeps the whole place alive. I stand a few feet away, watching him with fascination as he works the molten metal into shape. Every swing of his hammer sends sparks flying, and I can’t help but admire the sheer power he radiates. His forearms flex, muscles taut, glistening with sweat under the dim light of the forge.
“Careful, Petal,” he grumbles, barely sparing me a glance. “This isn’t exactly a safe space for daydreaming.”
Petal. The way he says it, like it’s both a compliment and a warning, sends a shiver down my spine. He’s right, of course. I’m out of my element here in his world of fire and iron, but I’m not about to let him see that. He might be brooding and tough, but I’ve handled my share of hard men before. I just have to break through his walls, and I’ll be fine.
“I’m not daydreaming,” I reply, with a smile that’s half sweet, half challenge. “I’m just admiring your... craftsmanship.”
That gets his attention. He pauses mid-swing, finally turning those dark eyes on me. They flicker with something hot, something simmering beneath the surface, but just as quickly, he masks it with a grunt.
“Grab those tools,” he orders, nodding toward a nearby table. “I’m not cuttin’ you any slack just because it’s your first day on the job. If you’re going to be here, you might as well make yourself useful.”
I can tell he’s reluctant, that he doesn’t really want me in his space, but I’m not backing down. I stride over to the table and pick up the heavy tongs he pointed to, doing my best to look like I know what I’m doing. I can feel his gaze on me, assessing, and it only makes me more determined.
“So, what exactly are we working on today?” I ask, holding up the tongs.
He doesn’t answer right away, just keeps hammering the metal into submission. The clang echoes around us, and I catch myself biting my lip, watching his hands, his broad shoulders. Focus, Perry.
“Your granddad’s truck,” he finally says, voice gruff. “The parts I need to fabricate are going to take time. A lot of time.”
I nod, trying to seem unbothered by his roughness. “I’m patient.”
“We’ll see about that.” There’s a challenge in his voice, one I can’t help but rise to.
Knox might be stoic and distant, but there’s no mistaking the chemistry between us. It’s there in every glance, every brush of his arm against mine as we work. He keeps his distance, but it’s like he’s tethered to me by an invisible line, one that pulls us closer every time we speak.
The air grows thicker—not just with the heat of the forge, but with something else. Something charged. I notice the way his eyes flick toward me when he thinks I’m not looking, and the way he clenches his jaw, like he’s holding back from saying something he shouldn’t.