Page 12 of The Blacksmith's Heart
He smirks, but the warmth in his eyes betrays him. “Careful. You might start liking me.”
I arch a brow. “Might?”
His smirk widens, but before he can reply, the barn door creaks open. Rocky, his ever-loyal companion, saunters in, tail wagging. Liam crouches down, scratching behind his ears. I laugh softly, bending down beside him to scratch Rocky’s other ear. “He’s a good boy.”
“The best,” Liam agrees, his voice softer now. He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “And he’s got your back too.”
The weight of his words hangs in the air, and for a moment, neither of us speaks. Then Liam straightens, holding out a hand to help me up. I take it, and the rough warmth of his palm against mine sends a shiver down my spine.
“Come on,” he says, his voice gruff again. “We’ve got more work to do.”
The cabin is quiet that night, save for the soft crackle of the fire. I sit on the couch, my knees tucked under me, watching Liam as he moves around the kitchen. He’s making tea, his movements deliberate and sure, like he’s done this a thousand times.
“You don’t strike me as a tea guy,” I say, breaking the silence.
He glances at me over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m not. This is for you.”
Something warm and unfamiliar settles in my chest. “Thanks.”
He brings the mug over, handing it to me before sitting on the opposite end of the couch. The distance feels intentional, but his gaze never leaves mine.
“You’re thinking too much,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact.
I arch a brow. “And how do you know that?”
“Because I do it too.” He leans back, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “You’re worrying about things you can’t control.”
“Like what?” I challenge, taking a sip of the tea.
“Like who’s behind all this,” he says, nodding toward the barn. “And what they’ll do next.”
I don’t respond, because he’s right. Instead, I stare into my mug, the tea swirling like the storm in my mind.
“Callie,” he says, his voice softer now. “You’re safe here.”
I look up at him, his dark eyes steady and unwavering. “I know.”
“Do you?” he presses, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “Because I mean it. No one’s getting to you. Not while I’m around.”
The conviction in his voice sends a shiver through me, and for the first time in days, I feel the smallest flicker of peace. “Thank you,” I whisper.
He nods, leaning back again, his gaze never leaving mine. “Get some rest,” he says gruffly. “You’ll need it for tomorrow.”
“Why?” I ask, setting the mug on the coffee table.
“Because we’re going to fix what they broke,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And we’re going to make it stronger.”
I smile, a real one this time. “You’re not so bad, Liam Grayson.”
“Don’t spread that around,” he mutters, but his lips curve into a faint smirk.
I laugh, and for the first time in days, it feels like I can breathe again.
Chapter Eight
Liam
The hum of power tools fills the air, Jack, Rune, Ridge, and Slate are scattered around my shop, their easy camaraderie a counterbalance to the tension that’s been hanging heavy these last few days. The shop’s been fortified with new locks, reinforced windows, and enough bracing to survive a damn hurricane.
