Page 5 of Honey for the Bear

“You’re doing that wrong.”

I yelp, nearly dropping the hammer, and spin around to find Cameron standing a few feet away.His hands are shoved into his pockets, his expression unreadable as usual, but I notice a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he’s hiding a smile.

“Jesus, Cameron,” I say, pressing a hand to my chest.“You scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry.”Though he doesn’t sound all that sorry.

I narrow my eyes at him, trying to ignore the way my heart is racing—not from fear but from the sight of him.He’s wearing a plain gray T-shirt that clings to his broad shoulders and chest, and his jeans are streaked with dirt, like he’s already been working this morning.

“What are you doing here?”I ask, trying to sound casual.

“Driving by,” he says with a shrug.“Saw the fence.Figured you’d need help.”

I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms.“You just happened to be driving by?”

His lips twitch again, but he doesn’t answer.Instead, he steps closer, his gaze flicking to the broken fence.

“You’re never going to get it steady like that,” he says, nodding toward the post.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I mutter, picking up the hammer again.

“Move,” he says, his voice low but firm.

I blink up at him, startled by the command in his tone.“Excuse me?”

“Move,” he repeats, already reaching for the post.“You’re going to hurt yourself.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes stops me.It’s not just stubbornness.It’s concern.

With a sigh, I step back and watch as Cameron takes over.His hands wrap around the post, and I can’t help but notice how big they are, how strong.He holds the post steady with one hand while using the other to drive it deeper into the ground, his movements sure and efficient.

“See?”he says, glancing at me over his shoulder.“You’ve got to angle it a little, so it stays in place.”

“I knew that,” I lie, crossing my arms.

He smirks, just barely, and turns back to the post.

As we work together, the tension between us slowly eases.Cameron doesn’t say much—he never does—but his presence is steady, grounding.He hands me tools without me asking, and when the hammer slips from my grip, he catches it midair like it’s nothing.

“Show off,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in my voice.

Cameron just grunts, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile.

By the time we finish, the sun is high in the sky, and my skin is sticky with sweat and dirt.The fence looks better than it did before the storm, and I can’t help but feel a little proud, even if Cameron did most of the heavy lifting.

“Thanks,” I say, wiping my hands on my jeans.

He nods, stepping back to survey our work.His T-shirt is damp with sweat, clinging to his back, and I have to force myself not to stare.

“You didn’t have to help, you know,” I add, my voice softer now.

“I wanted to,” he says simply, his eyes meeting mine.

Something in his gaze makes my stomach flip—something raw and unguarded.For a moment, I think he might say more, but then he looks away, his jaw tightening.

“Cameron,” I say hesitantly, taking a step closer.“Why do you keep showing up like this?Helping me?”

He doesn’t answer right away.His hands are shoved into his pockets again, his shoulders tense.

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