Chapter 10
Gia
Okay, so I settled on the simple dress I’d brought with me on the off chance I’d actually want to wear one.
It wasn’t fancy.
Definitely not Montana rich-girl chic or whatever the hell women were supposed to wear on dates with giant mountain firefighters who looked like they belonged on the cover of rugged outdoorsman magazines.
But I liked it.
And honestly?
That mattered more.
The dress was soft ivory with tiny yellow flowers, and curling green vines stitched across the fabric.
The milkmaid-style bodice hugged my breasts perfectly without making me feel poured into it, while the loose skirt skimmed over my stomach and thighs instead of clinging to them.
Feminine.
Pretty.
Comfortable.
Which meant I’d spent twenty minutes staring at myself in the mirror trying to convince my brain not to ruin it.
Because the truth was, being a curvy woman in your thirties did weird things to your confidence.
You learned how to brace for disappointment.
Learned how to laugh things off first before anyone else could.
Learned how to make yourself smaller emotionally even when physically there was simply more of you.
And Wreck?
Wreck looked like every fantasy women everywhere whispered about after too much wine and romance novels.
Huge.
Protective.
Gruff.
Dangerously attractive.
Meanwhile, I looked like someone who baked emotional support cookies and cried during animal rescue commercials.
Which, to be fair, was accurate.
Still.
The way he’d looked at me in the diner earlier had settled something warm and reckless inside my chest.
Not lust exactly.
Well, not only lust anyway.
Something deeper.
Something that made my magic stir beneath my skin every time I thought about him.
So I put on the dress.
Curled my dark hair loosely.
Added mascara and lip gloss.
Then told myself to stop acting like a nervous teenager.
Because this was just dinner.
Definitely not destiny.
Probably.
Fast forward to an hour later, and I was beginning to suspect the universe hated me specifically.
Because yes, while I sat across from the world’s hottest and largest grump at Ember Hollow’s best burger place and only restaurant—The Joint, which also apparently transformed into a BBQ place at night—I recognized that something was definitely wrong.
Wreck wouldn’t even look at me.
Not really.
Not the way he had earlier.
Not the way he had in the cabin yesterday or earlier today.
All night he’d been tense.
Jittery.
Quiet.
Every muscle in his huge body looked stretched too tight beneath his dark henley. His broad shoulders stayed rigid while his gaze tracked everything except me.
The exits.
The windows.
The men at the bar.
The door every time it opened.
Like he was waiting for a threat instead of sitting down to dinner.
And honestly?
It hurt.
Which was stupid because I barely knew him.
But still.
The energy between us earlier had felt undeniable.
Now it felt like he was trying to hold himself ten miles away from me while sitting directly across the table.
“Ready to order?”
The waitress bounced up beside the table with an aggressively cheerful smile. Not Gabby unfortunately—which honestly felt unfair because I suddenly desperately wanted the comfort of her calm energy.
“Yeah,” Wreck grumbled immediately.
Then he ordered approximately three-quarters of the menu without once asking what I wanted.
Brisket.
Ribs.
Pulled pork.
Loaded fries.
Extra cornbread.
The waitress blinked twice while writing furiously.
I stared at him.
The man ordered enough food to feed a football team.
Honestly?
Impressive.
“Um,” I cut in finally before the waitress escaped, “can we also have the house salad with the citrus raspberry vinaigrette, grilled corn on the cob, and the broccoli slaw?”
“Sure,” she said brightly. “And to drink?”
“Water,” Wreck rumbled.
“Iced tea for me, please.”
The waitress hurried away.
Silence immediately crashed back down between us.
Goddess.
This was painful.
Wreck stared at the table like it personally offended him.
“Look, are you okay?” I asked carefully.
“What? I’m fine.”
No, he wasn’t fine.
Wreck wasn’t even in the same vicinity as fine.
“Oh, uh, sorry about ordering like that,” he muttered suddenly. “I assumed you ate meat because of the burger.”
I blinked.
Then, I laughed softly despite myself.
“I do eat meat,” I assured him. “I just also like vegetables.”
That finally dragged his eyes toward mine for a second.
Just a second.
But it was enough to hit me all over again.
That face.
Those eyes.
The sheer intensity packed into one massive mountain man body.
Good Goddess.
No wonder my magic kept acting weird around him.
“I just…” He rubbed one hand over the back of his neck roughly. “Didn’t think.”
I smiled slightly.
“I need a lot of calories,” he explained.
“Considering you ordered enough brisket for a small village, I gathered that.”
One corner of his mouth twitched.
Barely.
Then the tension slammed back into him again.
Something was wrong.
Not ‘first date nerves’ wrong.
Something deeper.
And suddenly all my old insecurities started crawling out of the dark corners of my brain.
Maybe he regretted this.
Maybe the reality of me sitting across from him wasn’t matching whatever instinctual chemistry thing he’d felt earlier.
Maybe the giant sexy firefighter decided he didn’t actually want the chubby Dryad after all.
The thought hurt more than it should have.
I looked down at my newly arrived iced tea.
Then back at him.
“Look,” I said carefully, “did I do something wrong?”
His head snapped up immediately.
“What? No.”
“Then why do you seem like you don’t want to be here?”
The words came out quieter than I intended.
Vulnerable.
Damn it.
Wreck stared at me like I’d punched him.
“I’ll be honest with you,” I continued before courage failed me completely. “I’m not interested in being on a date with someone who has to force themselves to spend time with me. So if you want to just call it a night, I can walk away right now, no harm no foul.”
There.
Said it.
My stomach twisted immediately afterward.
Because I knew what we looked like sitting here.
The massive mountain firefighter who looked carved out of wilderness and testosterone.
And then there was me.
Thirty-six.
Curvy.
Soft.
A woman who’d spent half her life trying to shrink herself emotionally and physically before someone else rejected her first.
Not exactly a match made in anyone’s fantasy.
I bit my lower lip hard enough to hurt.
Wreck went terrifyingly still.
Then, very slowly, he leaned forward across the table.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said in a low rough voice that instantly made my pulse jump, “I promise I’ll punch myself in the face for fucking this up later, but not before I tell you a few things.
And the first one, Honey, is that you’re wrong.
You’re so goddamn beautiful. More than that.
And I just can’t imagine where the hell you got the idea you’re not sexy as fuck, Honey. ”
I froze.
Heat flooded my face instantly.
But he just kept going.
“I mean that sincerely. I know I’m rough, but the truth is you are completely out of my league.”
My mouth actually fell open.
What?
“Wreck, don’t—”
“No.” His eyes locked onto mine fully now for the first time all evening, and holy shit the intensity in them almost stole my breath. “Seriously. Look at you, Honey.”
The words wrapped around me slow and deliberate.
Like he wanted me to feel every single one.
“That dress?” His gaze dropped briefly before dragging back up again like it physically hurt him to look away. “Been driving me fucking crazy since I picked you up.”
My heart slammed hard against my ribs.
“And your hair?” he continued roughly. “I never saw anything so glossy and pretty. And your eyes? Jesus fucking Christ, Gia. Your eyes gut me every time they flash my way.”
The restaurant noise faded around us.
Everything narrowed down to the male staring at me like he was starving.
Like he genuinely couldn’t understand why I doubted myself.
“Now, tell me, who do I have to kill,” he asked quietly, dangerously, “for putting those thoughts, those fucking doubts, in your beautiful head?”
Emotion climbed unexpectedly into my throat.
Because no one had ever looked at me like this before.
Not like he was simply lusting after curves.
Or politely appreciating them.
Or settling.
Wreck looked absolutely furious that I couldn’t see myself the way he did.
Like the idea genuinely offended him.
“I just…” I swallowed hard. “You’re very…”
“Huge?” he supplied dryly.
“Intimidating. But sweet. You’re very sweet, Wreck.”
His expression softened slightly then.
The harsh edges easing for just a second.
“I know I’m messing this up, but if you’d just give me a chance I promise I’ll do better.”
“I don’t know if I should,” I said honestly.
Because sitting across from him felt like sitting across from a storm pretending to behave itself.
Power rolled off him constantly even when he sat perfectly still.
And beneath it?
Something restless.
Something barely leashed.
Something that reacted every single time another man in the restaurant looked too long in my direction.
“I’m trying really hard not to scare you,” he admitted quietly. “But I’m willing to beg if it comes down to it.”
That confession hit me right in the chest.
Because suddenly his tension made sense.
This wasn’t disinterest.
It was restraint.
“I’m not scared of you,” I said softly.
The second the words left my mouth, something changed in his expression.
Not relief.
Something deeper.
Hungrier.
His nostrils flared once.
The air between us thickened immediately.
And for one dizzying second I swore I felt it again—that strange invisible pull tightening between us.
Ancient.
Primal.
Wanting.
Wreck’s hands clenched against the edge of the table hard enough the wood creaked.
His jaw tightened violently.
“Gia,” he said roughly.
The way he said my name sent heat curling low in my stomach.
“What?”
He stared at me for a long moment.
Like he wanted to say something dangerous.
Then the waitress returned carrying enough food to collapse the table, and the moment shattered completely.
Wreck leaned back immediately.
Distance.
Control.
But I think I understood.
He wasn’t fighting attraction.
He was fighting himself.
And I really wanted to know why.