Chapter 12
Harper
Istruggle to carry my camera equipment along with the box Gina insisted I pick up from the post office while scouting locations near her wedding venue. “Stupid wedding errands,” I mutter as I nearly stumble, trying to keep the surprisingly light box from tipping off my shoulder.
Suddenly, Ford’s large hands take the box from my arm. “Careful. You don’t want to hurt yourself before your sister’s wedding.”
“You always seem to show up just when I need help. Except the other day when Kenzie cornered me on the street. You really dropped the ball on that one, Crawford Stokes.”
He laughs, the deep sound sending a thrill through me. My stomach twists into knots as an unfamiliar ache stirs between my legs, something I haven’t felt in ages.
“Sorry. I’ll do better. Promise,” Ford replies. “But it might be easier if you remember to send up the bat signal when you need help to keep things running smoothly.”
“Oh, so it’s my fault now? I see how it is,” I say, chuckling. “But seriously, how are you always around?”
A cocky smirk spreads across his face, and I can’t believe I’ve never fully appreciated how attractive Ford is. His nearly perfect teeth, kissable lips, and stunning eyes framed by long eyelashes make my heart race.
“Maybe I’m keeping my eye on you, Harper Wallace.”
My stomach flips. Was Gina right? Why does it feel like Ford has suddenly switched to flirting mode?
“Are you?”
He laughs, gesturing across the street. “I had to fix the trim along Dr. Cabot’s counter. Some kids have been rough with their big trucks, and it cracked in half.”
And just like that, he’s back to normal. “Oh.”
“I doubt anything in there has been replaced since before we were born, so the snow and rain have really taken their toll,” he continues.
For some reason, I feel drawn to watch him work. “I never realized you liked building things.”
“There’s a lot about me you don’t know, but I enjoy working with my hands.”
The flirting returns, accompanied by a glint in his eye that sends shivers down my spine.
I can’t meet his gaze any longer and look away.
Ever since our second kiss—the sober one—I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Ford.
Now, all I can imagine is how his hands would feel exploring my body.
His fingers are long and muscular, and I quickly push those thoughts aside. What is happening to me?
“Do you just take on all sorts of jobs, or do you have a specialty?” I ask, my voice cracking slightly.
He smirks but thankfully doesn’t comment on it. “I do what needs to get done, but I love creating things. You’d be surprised at some of the stuff around town that I’ve made without even realizing it.”
“Yes, I probably would be. Like what?” He gestures toward the church, where workers are carefully maneuvering an intricately designed wedding arch through the large doors. “Wait, you built that?”
“I carved that,” he replies confidently. “It started as one giant tree.”
My jaw drops as I take in the arch’s beauty. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
A flood of questions rushes through my mind. How did he find a tree that enormous? And how on earth did he move it to carve?
He strides over to my car, setting the box in the backseat. With a smooth motion, he takes my equipment and places it inside as well. “It’s beautiful, Ford. Really. That takes a significant amount of skill,” I say, a wave of sadness washing over me as the arch disappears from view.
“It gives me something to do. Keeps me occupied, and I enjoy creating things that others find beautiful.”
I sense there’s more to his words, but I don’t press him on it.
Ford’s childhood had its share of struggles.
He moved to Frosthaven Falls after his mom remarried; her previous husband was abusive, leaving Ford with reservations about this town.
Thankfully, Chris has been a great stepfather.
The move was beneficial, but I think it also fuels his desire to stay out of the gossip mill.
He and his mom were the subjects of whispers when they first arrived.
“That’s a really nice idea. It’s generous of you to share your talent with the world,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.
A gust of wind sends a chill through me, and I shiver. Ford instinctively pulls my collar up, his body just inches from mine. My heart races, and I can hardly breathe as I watch him, wondering if he’ll lean in for another kiss.
“You should probably get going before you turn into an icicle,” he says, his warm breath brushing against my cheek. “You’re not as used to our cold anymore.”
“I only moved two hours away,” I reply with a laugh, trying to mask my nerves.
“But I saw your pictures. You spent a lot of the summer down south. It’s warmer there, that’s for sure.”
He follows my work? I post online out of necessity—and maybe a bit of pride—but I didn’t know anyone outside my family paid attention.
“I was warmer, but I was born and raised here, remember? You’d be surprised at what I can handle.” His tongue flicks out over his lips, and I can’t tear my gaze away from his mouth. God, I want to kiss him again. Maybe even more.
“If you find it’s not that easy and need help warming up, just give me a call. I’m more than happy to help you out, Harper.”
My eyes widen, but he just laughs and steps back, opening my car door for me. I climb in without a word, feeling stunned. Floored. Flabbergasted.
Ford chuckles again and winks before crossing the street to his pickup.
I watch him go, a swirl of confusion in my chest. Was he really flirting with me?
Or was he just trying to lighten my mood given the circumstances?
Why does the thought that he might not be flirting leave me feeling disappointed?