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Ariana’s a beauty; I’m a fucking beast. A grumpy old stranger—too big, too ugly, too broken for a princess like her.
She deserves more.
“I better get to work,” I say, trying to swallow down the heaviness in my throat. “Should be finished in a couple of days.”
“Perfect. Thank you so much.”
She smiles up at me, and I’m struck by the softness in her gaze. I’m so used to people looking at me with suspicion or wariness, intimidated by my scars and my size. But there’s nothing but gratitude in Ariana’s golden eyes, and it only makes me want her more.
I force myself to take a step back toward the door. “See you soon.”
Something flashes across her face for a split second before she says, “Can I watch?”
Her voice comes out in an urgent rush, and it takes me a second to figure out what she means.
“Watch?”
She nods eagerly. “Watch you make the bookcase, I mean. If that’s not too…weird.” She chews on her bottom lip, which I’m starting to think is a nervous habit. “I’d be really interested to see how it’s made. But I don’t want to bother you if?—”
“You can watch,” I tell her immediately, my pulse quickening.
Her pretty face splits into a grin. “Great!”
I tried to walk away. I tried to do the right thing. But fuck, how can I resist her request? Even if I don’t have a chance in hell with Ariana, I can’t say no to spending more time with her. I’ve always been a strong-willed person, but dammit, this girl is my kryptonite, and I’ll do whatever it takes to be around her, even for just a couple of days.
“My truck’s out front,” I tell her. “Ready?”
She nods, eyes bright. “Let’s go.”
4
ARIANA
I ride shotgun in Duke’s enormous pickup, trying to control my breathing as we drive through the woods. God knows where I got the courage to ask if I could watch him build my bookcase, but when I saw him turning to leave my apartment, I had to stop him. I needed an excuse to stay with him.
Does this make me a stalker?
Is that what’s happening right now?
It’s crazy. I only just met Duke, yet I already want to spend every second with him. There’s something about him. Sure, he’s a gorgeous giant with eyes like mountain lakes, but it’s more than just physical. All my life, I’ve felt invisible. But Duke…he makes me feel seen. There’s an unspoken connection, a gentleness in the way he looks at me, and it’s intoxicating.
“Hope you don’t mind coming to my workshop,” Duke says from the driver’s seat. “I make most custom projects at home instead of the store.”
“I don’t mind at all.” Flashing him a small smile, I try not to reveal how excited I am. When Duke told me we were heading to his home instead of Stirling’s Lumber & Hardware, my heart almost soared into the sky. I can’t wait to see where he lives.
After twisting and turning through the forest around Cherry Hollow, we finally reach a long dirt track shrouded by trees. Eventually, it opens up to reveal a huge log cabin nestled in a lush green clearing. A stone pathway leads to a generous front porch, and wildflowers sway in the breeze all around the cabin. I spy a narrow creek glittering nearby, the water dappled with golden sunlight, and I let out a deep exhale. It’s like something out of a fairy tale.
“Wow. This place is so beautiful.”
Duke’s lips quirk into the suggestion of a smile. “Glad you like it. The workshop’s out back.”
He opens the truck door for me, helping me down to the ground. I follow him around the cabin, listening to the gentle rush of the creek. This would make the perfect reading spot: disappearing between the pages of a book as the water flows softly and the birds twitter overhead. It’s so peaceful out here. So serene.
Duke’s workshop is a large wooden outbuilding, hidden behind the cabin. He pulls open the enormous sliding doors to reveal a meticulously organized space full of tools, wood, workbenches, and furniture in various stages of completion. The smell of sawdust is heavy in the air as Duke leads me inside.
“You have a pretty cool setup out here,” I say as I inspect all the tools and equipment, clueless as to what half of it is for.
“Thanks. Can’t take the credit, though. This was my dad’s workshop.”
