Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
“Not that one, but the way you’re going at it, you’ll be chopping firewood by the end of the day.” Creed pushes off the tree and steps closer, eyes gleaming with mischief. “So, what’s the deal with the hippie?”
“There’s no deal,” I say, rolling my shoulders. “She’s just… she’s here doing research. Trying to save a few plants, that’s all.”
Judge snorts. “A few plants? You sure? George said it looked like you two were about to tear each other’s heads off.”
“It’s not like that,” I growl, irritated that they’re enjoying this so much. “She’s a pain in the ass, that’s all. She thinks she can walk onto my land and tell me how to manage it.”
Creed and Judge exchange a look, and I know I’m in for it. “Sounds like she’s more than just a pain in the ass if she’s got you swinging that axe like you’re trying to break something other than wood,” Creed says, his grin widening.
“She’s trouble,” I say again, but the words feel hollow. It’s not the full truth, and we all know it.
“Oh yeah?” Judge crosses his arms, leaning against the tree, the teasing gone from his tone. “Funny thing is, we’ve all had our share of run-ins with women like that. The ones who get under your skin, make you crazy.”
“And none of you are shacked up,” I point out, my voice harder than I mean it to be. “Not a single one of you is married or even close to it. So, don’t act like you’ve got this figured out.”
Creed shrugs. “There’s a reason for that, Barron. Ain’t no good women left around here. Hell, maybe not anywhere.”
“I’m not looking to settle down,” Judge adds, nodding. “Women are too much trouble, always looking for something more. I’m fine right where I am—no strings, no complications.”
Normally, I’d agree. That’s how it’s always been for all of us. The Steele brothers—famous bachelors of Copper Mountain, never tied down, never interested in anything permanent. But now, with Tamlyn… I don’t know. Something about her feels different.
I scowl, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah, well, maybe you’re right. But this one—Tamlyn—she’s not like the others.”
Creed’s grin fades just a little, his eyes narrowing. “Oh? How so?”
I don’t know how to explain it without sounding like an idiot, so I just shrug. “She’s…special.”
Chapter Seven
Tamlyn
I can hear Barron’s frustration in every heavy step he takes as he walks off his front porch and into the woods. The crunch of pine needles under his boots is louder than it needs to be. The man practically stomps through the underbrush so loudly I don’t even think he realizes I’m here, creeping up on his cabin in the early morning. “Hey!”
He turns, finally catching sight of me behind him. He seemed lost in his own world and after watching him for a few long moments, I sense that this man doesn’t let many people into his inner world.
“What?” comes his growl.
“I–I was wondering if you wanted to take me on a tour of your words?”
“Why?” He’s moving again, totally uninterested in me.
“Well, no one knows these woods better than you–”
“Because they’re mine.”
“Right.” I press my lips together, struggling to follow along behind him. I trail him for a few silent moments, unsure of what else to say. With my eyes on the stretch of his back, the toe of my boot catches on a root and I stumble, nearly falling with a grunt.
He pauses, eyes shooting to me before he returns the few paces to me. He stops just short of me, his gaze lingering long on my lips before he utters, “You coming?”
I swallow, nod, and then he turns and stalks off again. The set of his broad shoulders tells me he’s regretting every second of this little expedition already. His jaw is tight, lips probably pressed into that familiar hard line he wears like a shield.
Good. Let him simmer. I’ll take my time.
I dart from plant to plant, my eyes wide as I drink in everything around me. Copper Mountain is alive in a way that thrills me, each corner of the forest a new discovery. Every tiny bloom, every swath of moss is its own little universe, full of secrets just waiting to be uncovered. I stop mid-step, crouching down to inspect a patch of lichen creeping over a fallen log. The vibrant green is almost neon against the deep brown of the bark, and my fingers itch for my camera.
“This is incredible,” I murmur, not caring if Barron hears me or not. “Look at the way it spreads. Have you seen anything like this?”
“Lichen.” His voice is gruff behind me, like he’s just spitting out a fact to keep me from asking more questions.
I glance back over my shoulder. He’s standing a few feet away, axe slung over his shoulder, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Yeah, I know it’s lichen. But look at it.” I flash him a grin, daring him to argue. “Do you even appreciate how rare this particular species is in this environment?”