Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
And he’d already been on his way to help protect Willow, even before Cheeks made a break for it.
The hero I once knew is still in there, and the mischief maker, too. I made him smile at least once, and I could tell he wanted to smile more. He just needs time to relax and learn to trust again.
But is three weeks enough to break through the…
My thoughts trail off as I near the end of the driveway and Willow Wimbley’s quirky purple cottage comes into view.
As if conjured by longing thoughts, there he is—Luke Ratcliffe. But not the businessman in a suit I met at the town hall or the tightly buttoned-up man in khakis and a thick wool coat from last Friday.
No, this is Luke as I’ve never seen him before, in a deep blue flannel that stretches across his broad shoulders, worn jeans that mold to his thighs, and sturdy-looking boots, the kind the farmer’s daughter in me will always find sexy.
And to top it all off, he’s holding an axe. An axe.
Be still, my lumberjack-fantasy-having heart…
As I watch, thighs tingling in a way they haven’t in a damned long time, he swings the axe through the air with a clean, powerful motion. The log splits with a sharp thwack that echoes in the still air, doing scandalous things to my nipples.
Wow.
I mean, I knew I was frisky for Luke, but this…
This is ridiculous. As a bead of sweat trickles down his temple and he brushes it away with his glove, his bicep flexing beneath his flannel, I’m practically salivating.
I’m still staring, Christmas cards forgotten in my hand, when he places a wobbly piece of wood on the block. He measures his swing, but just as he lifts the axe, the log tips and falls. He lets out a curse, and I see my opening.
I mean, I wouldn’t want to disturb him while he’s working, but if the man clearly needs my help…
Tucking Mom’s cards quickly into the mailbox, I start across the snow-dusted gravel road. “Hey, you need a hand?” I call out.
He freezes, axe in mid-air, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees me. “H-Holly. What are you doing here?”
“I live here.” I grin as I climb the gentle incline into the yard, gesturing back toward my parents’ house. “Well, my mom and dad do. This is where I grew up. What are you doing here?”
“I brought Cheeks back and saw that Willow was low on firewood, so..” He trails off as his gaze skims across my family’s land, silently evaluating before he adds, “I should have known you grew up on a farm.”
“You really should have,” I agree. “I’m way too good with animals to be a village girl.”
“And far too wholesome,” he agrees, his mouth twitching before he adds, “Except when you’re giving a man a safe word, of course.”
Cheeks heating with pleasure—If that wasn’t flirting, I don’t know what is!—I nod. “Right. Except then.” I arch an equally flirty brow his way. “So, you want to lose a foot? Or do you want some wholesome farm girl help before you hurt yourself? I know a losing battle with a knotty birch when I see it.”
He arches a brow, that teasing light I glimpsed a few times at the tree lighting in his eyes. “How could I resist an offer like that? I am rather attached to my foot.”
“As you should be,” I say, crossing to the splitting stump. “But don’t worry, I know how to handle a piece of wood.” The moment the breezy words leave my mouth, I realize how raunchy they sound, and wince. “I mean…”
Luke’s lips curve into a wicked grin so devastating I nearly forget how to breathe. “What did you mean, Ms. Hadley?”
“You know what I meant,” I say, the urge to jump into his sexy, flannel-covered arms more intense than ever.
I’m pretty sure Luke wouldn’t be disappointed in my “wood handling” skills. And I know I wouldn’t be disappointed with anything he has to offer. Beneath his uptight exterior lurks a man just waiting for an excuse to go absolutely feral on a woman. I can feel it, sense it in the way every nerve in my body goes on high alert as he extends an arm, welcoming me into his space.
“I do know what you meant,” he says. “Come on then, expert, show a city slicker how it’s done.”
Collecting the knotty piece from the ground, I step up to the block. “It’s not rocket science. It’s just that this piece is uneven. You need someone to brace it for you with the kindling stick.” I crouch down, positioning the log. “Try it now.’
“Are you sure you trust me that much?” he asks.
I look up, holding his gaze as I assure him, “I know you won’t hurt me. If you have faith in your abilities, so do I.”