Page 3 of The Blacksmith's Heart
She snorts, a small smile breaking through her uncertainty. “You’re still as sarcastic as ever.”
“And you’re still stubborn.” My tone is playful, but the look I give her is serious. “Take the damn offer, Callie.”
Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, something passes between us—something I can’t name but don’t want to let go of. Finally, she nods. “Okay. But just for a little while.”
I nod back, relief and something warmer settling in my chest. “Good.”
The truck ride to my cabin is quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound. Callie stares out the window, her expression unreadable. I want to say something, to ask her what’s going on in that head of hers, but I don’t. Words aren’t my thing. Action is.
When we pull up to the cabin, I steal a glance at her. Her mouth parts slightly as she takes it in—the simple wood structure, the barn off to the side, the faint glow of the porch light. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s home.
“This is yours?” she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief.
“Yeah,” I say, killing the engine. “It’s not much, but it works.”
She doesn’t respond, just grabs her bag and climbs out of the truck. Rocky, my chocolate lab, comes bounding out of the barn, his tail wagging furiously. Callie kneels to greet him, her laughter spilling into the night as Rocky plants muddy paw prints on her jeans.
“He’s friendly,” I say, stepping out of the truck.
“I can see that.” She grins, scratching Rocky behind the ears. “He’s beautiful.”
I don’t respond, watching the way her hands move, gentle and sure, as if she’s known Rocky forever. Something about the sight stirs a warmth I’m not used to feeling, something I don’t know what to do with.
“Come on,” I say gruffly, turning toward the cabin. “I’ll show you your room.”
Inside, the cabin is quiet, the faint smell of cedar lingering in the air. I flick on the light, revealing the cozy living room with itsworn couch, cluttered coffee table, and the stone fireplace that’s the heart of the space.
“It’s… cozy,” Callie says, her tone neutral.
I glance at her, catching the hint of amusement in her eyes. “That a polite way of saying it’s small?”
“No.” She smiles, and for a moment, it’s like the weight of the past few days lifts off her shoulders. “It’s nice, Liam. It feels… safe.”
Safe. The word hits me harder than it should. I clear my throat, gesturing toward the hallway. “Your room’s down there. Second door on the left.”
She nods, heading down the hall with Rocky at her heels. I stand there for a moment, watching her go, before shaking my head and heading for the kitchen.
Callie Baker. The girl I’ve been in love with since middle school.
This is going to be interesting.
Chapter Three
Callie
The barn smells like sawdust and something metallic, an earthy blend that feels oddly comforting. I stretch my arms overhead, the early morning sunlight filtering through the slats in the wooden walls. The space Liam cleared for me isn’t much—just a small corner with a thick rug, a few yoga mats, and a couple of candles—but it’s enough. It’s thoughtful.
And that’s what gets me. Thoughtfulness wasn’t something I expected from a man who grumbled his way through dinner last night, making me feel like I was one misstep away from being kicked out. He was lighter when we were kids–more playful, hopeful. Maybe we all are though, before life burns us,literally.
The door creaks open, and I glance over my shoulder to see Liam stepping inside, a steaming mug in his hand. His usual scowl is in place, but there’s something softer in his eyes this morning.
“Coffee,” he mutters, setting the mug on the edge of the windowsill. “Figured you’d need it.”
“Thanks,” I say, surprised. “Are you always this charming, or is it just for me?”
His lips twitch, but he doesn’t smile. “Don’t push your luck, Angel.”
Angel. The way he says it, like it’s half insult and half endearment, sends a shiver down my spine. I take a sip of the coffee—it’s dark and bitter, just like him—and try to hide my smile.
