5. Hawk
5
HAWK
I ’ve never let anyone in my workshop before.
The thought hits me as I watch Paige move through the space, her fingers trailing over my workbench with reverence. Wood shavings curl around her feet, catching golden afternoon light. The air smells of fresh-cut wood and sawdust, familiar scents that somehow hit different with her here.
“These are incredible.” She stops at my wall of completed pieces, studying each one. Her eyes catch on a kestrel I carved last spring, wings spread wide in flight. “The detail in the feathers…” She leans closer, squinting at the intricate lines. “How do you even do that?”
My throat tightens. Having her here feels raw, like I’m stripped naked before her. But watching her genuine fascination with my work also warms my chest.
“Different tools for different details.” I pick up my favorite gouge, the handle burnished from years of use. “This one’s good for feathers. Creates clean lines without taking off too much material at once.”
She nods, clearly trying to picture it. “And you just know which tool to use when?”
“After enough practice, yeah. The wood tells you what it needs, if you listen.” The words feel clumsy in my mouth. I’m not used to explaining this stuff out loud.
But Paige smiles. “What do you mean, the wood tells you?”
I grab a piece of cherry wood from my scrap pile, running my thumb over its grain. “See these lines? They show you where the wood wants to split, where it’ll fight you if you try to cut against it.” I trace the pattern with my finger. “Work with the grain instead of fighting it, and the wood opens up for you.”
She steps closer, peering at the wood in my hands. “Can I feel?”
I hold out the piece. Her fingers lightly brush against mine as she takes it, making my pulse surge. She mimics my earlier movement, running her thumb along the grain.
“Huh.” She runs her thumb back and forth. “Yeah, I get what you mean about the grain.”
An unfamiliar pleasure swells in my chest, followed immediately by an urge to show her more. I lead her to my bandsaw, one of the largest pieces of equipment in the shop. “This is where most pieces start. I use this to cut down larger sections of wood into workable sizes.”
“Will you show me how it works?”
The request catches me off guard. I grab a spare piece of pine—softer, more forgiving than cherry.
“Stand here.” I position her in front of the saw, then realize what I’ve done. To guide her properly, I’ll need to…
My heart pounds as I step behind her, close enough that my chest nearly touches her back. “Keep your fingers well away from the blade,” I say, my voice rough with warning. I wrap my hands around hers, showing her how to grip the wood safely. Her skin is soft under my palms.
“Like this?” She adjusts her grip, pressing back slightly against me in the process.
Jesus. I force myself to focus on the task, not on how perfectly she fits against me. “Yeah, that’s good. Now just guide it forward slowly.” Together, we ease the wood into the blade. The saw whines as it bites through the pine, sending sweet-smelling sawdust into the air.
When we finish the cut, Paige turns her head to look up at me, her eyes bright. “That felt amazing.”
She’s so close that everything around us blurs away. Her lips part slightly, and for one tempting moment, I imagine closing the distance between us. Threading my fingers through her hair. Tasting her lips.
“Thank you.” Her voice comes out a little breathy. “For letting me try this. For sharing all this with me.”
The air between us feels hot, electric. We’re standing too close, way too close, but I can’t make myself step back. Especially when the corner of Paige’s mouth lifts like she’s just decided something about me.
Paige breaks the moment first, clearing her throat. “I should probably start thinking about dinner.” Pink gently stains her cheeks as she eases away from me. “Any requests?”
It takes my brain several seconds to process the question. “Whatever you want is fine with me.”
She smiles—soft, a little shy—before retreating and slipping out the door. The workshop immediately feels colder without her in it. I lean against my workbench, trying to steady my racing pulse.
The owl carving sits unfinished beside me, its ruined wing a reminder of my panic that first day she arrived. But now, looking at the damage, I see possibility instead of failure. Maybe I can work with the imperfection, let it become part of the piece’s character. Like how Paige is slowly working her way into my life, changing things I thought were set in stone.
I pick up my chisel, and for the first time in days, my hands feel steady.
That evening, when I push open the door of my cabin, the scent of home cooking pulls me in like a hug. For days now, I’ve been walking into a new kind of home—one filled with good smells and vibrancy—but tonight I feel it settle into my bones. These moments of opening my door, finding my space transformed—they’ve become the part of my day I look forward to without even realizing it.
Paige stands at the stove, hair pulled back from her face, steam rising around her as she works. I’ve been acutely aware of her beauty from day one, but this is different. Watching her turn my home into something warmer, seeing how she’s becoming part of it with each passing day—it reaches past lustful attraction into territory I’ve never experienced before.
“There you are.” She glances over her shoulder. “It’s ready.”
Minutes later, she sets down a plate of golden chicken and roasted vegetables. The food is arranged with care, not just thrown onto the plate like I do.
“This looks good.” My voice comes out a little gruff but sincere. The words feel inadequate for what she’s brought to my solitary life. “Thanks for cooking. Not just tonight, I mean. But all the meals you’ve made.”
Her smile brightens the room. “I’m enjoying it.” She gives me a teasing look. “And maybe I’m trying to make sure we never have to eat mystery stew again.”
“It was that bad, huh?”
“Let’s just say you have other talents.”
That pulls an unexpected laugh from me. And it opens something up between us, making the conversation that follows flow better than our previous attempts—though we still hit awkward pauses now and then. We’re still learning each other’s rhythms, figuring out how to fill the spaces between words. It’s not perfect, but it feels like we’re building something real.
When we’re done eating, we fall into a natural rhythm cleaning up the kitchen. A warm feeling settles in my chest as I watch her move, putting things away like she’s done it a hundred times before. Like she’s carved out her own place here, the way I carve shapes from wood.
I turn toward the drying rack and move wrong. Pain shoots through my neck.
“What’s wrong?” Paige asks, catching my wince.
“Just stiff muscles. I’m fine.”
“That’s it.” She sets down her dish towel with surprising force. “I’m giving you back the bed tonight.”
I shake my head. “I’m not putting you on the couch.”
“Then we’ll share the bed. It’s certainly big enough for both of us.” Color floods her cheeks. “We’ll be married soon anyway, right?”
The question hangs between us. I’m surprised at how much it pleases me to hear her talk like that, like our marriage is a certain thing. But I haven’t forgotten that we still need to figure out the kid thing. And probably other things we haven’t thought about. Still, the idea of sleeping in my bed again is hard to resist…
“Okay.” I keep my voice steady. “I’ll join you.”
Later, when I climb into bed, the mattress feels like heaven compared to that damn couch. My whole body relaxes, a quiet groan of pleasure escaping my lips. Then the bathroom door opens, and I nearly forget how to breathe.
Paige stands there in an old t-shirt that barely reaches mid-thigh. My heart slams against my ribs as she walks toward the bed. The sight of her like this hits me harder than any deliberately sultry outfit could.
She slides under the covers on her side, and suddenly the mattress feels like a minefield. Every tiny movement sends awareness shooting through me. We lie there in charged silence as she reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp. But the darkness makes everything feel more intense.
“This okay?” Her voice is soft in the dark.
“Yeah.” I swallow hard. “Goodnight, Paige.”
Sleep comes eventually, but something wakes me hours later. I surface from sleep to find myself wrapped around Paige, her back pressed to my chest, her ample curves fitting perfectly against me. My arm circles her waist, holding her close. Her scent fills my head, making it impossible to think straight. Fuck, this feels right, like this is exactly where she belongs. When she shifts in her sleep, pressing back against me, a quiet groan escapes my throat. My cock, fully erect and rock hard, throbs needfully against the plump cheeks of her ass.
“Paige.” I try to ease away, but she makes a soft sound of protest and follows my movement. “Can you…you’re…”
She stirs, and I feel the moment awareness hits her. She quickly shifts away, looking at me apologetically in the moonlit darkness. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to?—”
“Don’t apologize. I just don’t know if we should touch like that yet.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Why not?”
“We still need to figure some things out.”
“You mean like the kid thing?”
“Yeah.”
She hesitates, and I can feel the weight of what she’s about to say. “Hawk, I want kids. I think I’ll really regret it if I give that up.”
I try to imagine it—this quiet mountain home filled with unruly voices, chaos where there’s always been control. The thought still scares me, but it hits different now. They’d be our children. Mine and Paige’s. Part of us both.
“How many are you thinking?”
She laughs softly. “Why, is that going to be a dealbreaker?”
“It might be if you tell me you want ten of ’em.”
Another laugh, a little louder this time. “No, I was picturing two or three at most.”
“Okay.”
“What do you mean, okay? You’re suddenly okay with it?”
“I’m open to it,” I say, catching her eyes in the moonlit dark. “I’m feeling more open by the second.”
A smile slowly blooms across her pretty lips. “So…when are we going to get married? Are you going to make us wait until your next scheduled trip into town?”
I laugh under my breath. “We can talk about it in the morning.”
She sighs. “I don’t know how I’m going to get back to sleep.”
Something in her voice undoes me completely. I can’t stand it any longer. The wanting burns through every scrap of self-control I’ve got left, leaving me raw with need.
In the darkness, I find her lips with mine, and everything else falls away.