Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 107(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 107(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Olivia grins knowingly. “The blacksmith with the hammer arms definitely helped business.”
I roll my eyes, but there’s no denying the truth. Liam Grayson, grumpy as ever, has become a bit of a local legend. And not just because he’s a skilled craftsman. His name on the studio’s foundation stone means more to me than any sign could. This space isn’t just mine—it’s ours.
“Speaking of,” Olivia adds, “your man’s waiting outside. Saw him leaning against the truck, looking all broody and irresistible.”
Of course he is.
With a quick nod to Olivia, I grab my bag and head outside. Liam is exactly where she said he’d be, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the fading light. He looks up as I approach, his gaze sharp and steady, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that might be a smile.
“Took you long enough,” he grumbles, pushing off the truck.
“Patience, Grayson,” I tease, stopping just short of him. “I run a thriving business, you know.”
He snorts, but his eyes soften. “You run everything.”
I tilt my head, pretending to consider. “That’s true. Someone’s got to keep you in line.”
His gaze darkens, the playful glint making my pulse quicken. “You think you’re keeping me in line?”
“Someone has to,” I shoot back, though my voice falters under the weight of his stare.
Liam steps closer, his presence a slow-moving storm, drawing me in. “You’ve got that backward, Callie. I’m letting you think you’re in charge.”
My breath hitches, and I know he sees it. He always sees too much. Before I can counter, he hooks an arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him.
“Let’s go,” he says, low and rough. “You’ve had your fun here. Now it’s my turn.”
The Devil’s Brew is alive with laughter and clinking glasses later that night, the kind of small-town charm that makes Devil’s Peak feel like home. Liam’s friends—Jack, Rune, Ridge, and the rest of the usual suspects—have claimed their corner of the bar, their voices booming above the din.
“There they are!” Ridge bellows as we walk in. “Grumpy and Angel.”
I groan, but Liam doesn’t miss a beat.
“Better grumpy than whatever the hell you’ve got going on,” he fires back, his tone flat but his smirk giving him away.
The table erupts in laughter as Liam pulls out a chair for me. The gesture is casual, instinctive, but it sends a ripple of warmth through me. He’s not the kind of man who does things for show; every action is deliberate, meaningful.
“You two gonna share the secret?” Jack asks, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin. “How’d you manage to turn this sourpuss into a human being?”
“It’s a work in progress,” I deadpan, earning another round of laughter.
Liam shakes his head, his hand finding its way to my thigh under the table. His grip is firm, possessive, a silent reminder that while he might tolerate their teasing, I’m his.
As the night wears on, the jokes fly, the drinks flow, and the camaraderie wraps around us like a well-worn blanket. These men, for all their ribbing, are a family in their own right. And by extension, so am I.
When the night winds down, Liam stands, his chair scraping against the floor. “Let’s go,” he says simply, offering me his hand.
I take it without hesitation.
The walk home is quiet, the stars overhead brighter than I’ve seen in years. Liam’s hand is warm in mine, his thumb brushing small circles against my skin. It’s a small gesture, but it grounds me, makes me feel steady even when everything about this man still leaves me breathless.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” I say, breaking the silence. “I know the bar scene isn’t your favorite.”
He shrugs, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “They’re idiots, but they’re my idiots.”
“And me?” I press, my voice playful but my chest tightening with something deeper.
He stops abruptly, turning to face me. The look in his eyes steals the air from my lungs. “You’re not an idiot, Callie. You’re my everything.”
The words hang between us, heavy and raw. He steps closer, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. “You were my first love, you know.”
I blink, caught off guard. “Liam—”
“You were,” he says, his voice unwavering. “Even when we were kids, I knew you were different. Special. And then you left, and I thought I’d never see you again. But you came back. That makes you my first love.”
I swallow hard, my throat thick with emotion.
“And you’re my last,” I whisper, the truth of it settling into my bones.
He smiles then, a rare, breathtaking thing, and leans down to press his lips to mine. The kiss is slow, deliberate, filled with all the promises we’ve yet to say out loud.
“You’re impossible,” I murmur, but my smile gives me away.
“And you love me for it.”
“I do,” I say, my voice firm. “I really do.”
The stars bear witness as he pulls me close, his arms a fortress, his love unbreakable. Together, we make our way home, ready to face whatever comes next—so long as we face it together.