Page 15 of Possessive Mountain Man

I glance back at the abandoned half-finished wooden bird.

“Have you ever tried whittling?”

She tilts her head. “No. Is it hard?”

“It depends.” I lean closer. “Want me to show you?”

She grins and sets her book aside. “Sure.”

I grab the knife and the block, handing them to her carefully.

“Start with a simple shape,” I say. “Something easy. Like a heart.”

She snorts. “A heart? That’s your idea of easy?”

“Trust me.” I settle beside her. “It’s about steady hands and patience.”

I guide her fingers, showing her how to hold the knife, and how to angle it just right.

“Like this,” I murmur, my voice low as I move behind her, bracing her hands with mine.

She leans slightly in toward me. Her hair brushes my jaw. I fight the urge to bury my face in it.

I clear a lump from my throat. “Slow, controlled strokes. Don’t force it.”

She follows my lead, her brow furrowed in concentration, her tongue peeking out slightly at the corner of her mouth.

“Good,” I say. “You’ve got it.”

She looks up at me, her smile soft and proud, and something shifts in my chest.

This—her, here with me, focused and determined and full of joy—is everything I didn’t know I was missing.

Everything I could have if only.

I swallow hard, easing back slightly to give her space. “Try it on your own.”

She nods and turns her attention back to the wood, carving careful, deliberate strokes.

I watch her, the way the firelight catches in her hair, the delicate curve of her jaw, the sure set of her mouth.

“How am I doing?” she asks after a few minutes, holding up her work.

I lean in, inspecting the rough heart shape she’s managed. It’s crude but recognizable, and it tugs a grin from me.

“Pretty damn good.”

She beams with pride.

“Your turn,” she says suddenly, thrusting the block and knife toward me.

I give her a dubious look. “I already know how.”

“Humor me.”

I take the block and knife, my fingers brushing hers, and start carving. She leans in close, her shoulder pressed against mine, and for a long moment, we work in comfortable silence.

When I finish, I hold up the second carving—a simple heart, slightly smaller, neater.

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