4. Ariana
4
ARIANA
I ride shotgun in Duke’s enormous pickup, trying to control my breathing as we drive through the woods. God knows where I got the courage to ask if I could watch him build my bookcase, but when I saw him turning to leave my apartment, I had to stop him. I needed an excuse to stay with him.
Does this make me a stalker?
Is that what’s happening right now?
It’s crazy. I only just met Duke, yet I already want to spend every second with him. There’s something about him. Sure, he’s a gorgeous giant with eyes like mountain lakes, but it’s more than just physical. All my life, I’ve felt invisible. But Duke…he makes me feel seen. There’s an unspoken connection, a gentleness in the way he looks at me, and it’s intoxicating.
“Hope you don’t mind coming to my workshop,” Duke says from the driver’s seat. “I make most custom projects at home instead of the store.”
“I don’t mind at all.” Flashing him a small smile, I try not to reveal how excited I am. When Duke told me we were heading to his home instead of Stirling’s Lumber & Hardware, my heart almost soared into the sky. I can’t wait to see where he lives.
After twisting and turning through the forest around Cherry Hollow, we finally reach a long dirt track shrouded by trees. Eventually, it opens up to reveal a huge log cabin nestled in a lush green clearing. A stone pathway leads to a generous front porch, and wildflowers sway in the breeze all around the cabin. I spy a narrow creek glittering nearby, the water dappled with golden sunlight, and I let out a deep exhale. It’s like something out of a fairy tale.
“Wow. This place is so beautiful.”
Duke’s lips quirk into the suggestion of a smile. “Glad you like it. The workshop’s out back.”
He opens the truck door for me, helping me down to the ground. I follow him around the cabin, listening to the gentle rush of the creek. This would make the perfect reading spot: disappearing between the pages of a book as the water flows softly and the birds twitter overhead. It’s so peaceful out here. So serene.
Duke’s workshop is a large wooden outbuilding, hidden behind the cabin. He pulls open the enormous sliding doors to reveal a meticulously organized space full of tools, wood, workbenches, and furniture in various stages of completion. The smell of sawdust is heavy in the air as Duke leads me inside.
“You have a pretty cool setup out here,” I say as I inspect all the tools and equipment, clueless as to what half of it is for.
“Thanks. Can’t take the credit, though. This was my dad’s workshop.”
Duke gestures for me to take a seat on a stool, and I watch as he grabs several tools. The workshop is huge, but somehow, Duke can make any space feel small. He’s so big that everything around him looks tiny by comparison, and even his giant tools are dwarfed by his hands.
“Your dad built furniture too?” I ask as Duke heaves several boards of wood toward me.
“Yep. He owned the store before I did. And this cabin. Left it all to me when he died.”
I feel a twinge of sympathy in my gut. “I’m sorry he passed.”
Duke’s eyes meet mine, and he nods. “Thanks. It was a while ago now.”
“I guess he’s the reason you got into woodwork?”
“Taught me everything I know.” Duke’s gaze turns unfocused, like he’s lost in memories. “He was a great man.”
My instinct is to get up and give him a hug, but before I can summon the courage, we’re both distracted by a loud meow.
“Aww!” I exclaim as a cat saunters into the workshop, looking at me curiously. Its coat is white with black and orange splotches, and there’s a stump where a tail should be.
“This is Scout,” Duke says, smiling slightly. “She’s the real owner of this cabin.”
“Scout.” I reach down to stroke her soft fur, grinning at the name. “Like Scout Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird?”
“Yeah. I read it back in high school. When I found Scout outside my cabin, she was just a kitten. Feral. Her tail was gone, and the stump was bleeding all over the place. I patched her up and for some reason, the name just came to me.” He bends down to scratch under Scout’s chin. “Now she’s a sweetheart. Spoiled as hell, too.”
My heart flutters as I imagine this burly giant rescuing a tiny kitten.
Just when I thought Duke couldn’t get any sexier.
“Do you still read?” I ask, smiling as Scout starts to purr.
“No.” His eyes shine as he looks at me. “Not like you, judging from all those books in your apartment.”
I grin at him. “They’re my weakness. Always have been. Especially mysteries.” That look in his eyes is back, gentle, affectionate, and it encourages me to say, “Want to know a secret?”
“You bet.”
He’s watching me eagerly, as if what I’m about to say is the most interesting thing he’s ever heard.
“Well, I have this dream,” I say, biting my lip. “I want to open a bookstore in Cherry Hollow one day. A cozy little place that’s totally overflowing with all kinds of books and lots of comfy chairs, and tea and coffee, and there’d be a book club that meets once a week, and a section for bookish gifts…”
It all comes out in a rush. Owning a bookstore has been my dream for as long as I can remember, but I’ve never told anybody about it before. My family is full of big dreamers reaching for gold medals and world records. I guess I felt like my dream was kind of small and insignificant in comparison. But Duke smiles at my words.
“Sounds like an awesome idea,” he says. “This town could really use a bookstore. I bet you’ll have plenty of customers.”
“You think so?” I beam at him. “It won’t be anytime soon. I’ll have to save up a lot of money and it will probably take years, even decades. But I’d love to make it happen one day.”
“You will.” He says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Like there’s not a single doubt in his mind that I will succeed. “I’m looking forward to visiting one day. Maybe I’ll buy a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird from you—give reading another try.”
I’m so flustered that I can’t speak for a while. Duke sounds so earnest, like he truly believes in me and my dreams. It means a lot to me, and eventually I squeak out a thank you.
“Maybe you’ll make a bookworm out of me one day,” he says before grabbing a pencil and drawing out my bookcase.
I don’t say anything for a while—just watch Duke work, my heart beating twice as fast as usual. Once his plans are drawn up, he starts taking measurements and making cuts, talking me through everything he’s doing. But I barely hear him. All I can focus on is how hot he looks, muscles rippling beneath his shirt as he saws through a board of cherry wood. He’s so strong that it barely seems to take any effort at all, and I clamp my legs tight, trying to stop the growing ache.
I’ve never felt like this before. This scorching desire burning through my core…it’s driving me crazy. I’m still a virgin, but that’s never bothered me before. There’s never been anybody I wanted in that way. But now Duke has woken up desires I never knew existed, and it’s making my head spin. When he rolls up his sleeves to reveal those thick, tanned forearms, I squeeze my thighs tighter together, wishing more than anything that this giant lumberjack would pick me up and take me to his bed.
Oh God, I think I’m losing it.
He’s so hot that he’s fried my whole brain.
“Can I help with anything?” I ask eventually, desperate to give myself a distraction.
Duke looks up from his work, his eyes piercing me. “You want to?”
“Sure. I’d love to.”
I get off my stool and almost instantly, Scout jumps up to take my spot. Then I join Duke by the workbench, inspecting the wood he’s been sawing through.
“This is cherry wood,” he says. “Taken from the cherry orchard outside town.”
“Awesome. My own Cherry Hollow bookcase.”
I smile up at him, my mouth going dry as he shifts toward me, positioning his saw against the wood. We’re so close that I can feel his body heat against my side as I watch him.
“You don’t want to force it,” he says, his deep voice sending a bolt of electricity up my spine. “Let the saw do the work.”
He starts to move the saw, creating a groove in the wood for me to follow. And then several things happen at once.
Duke’s forearm accidentally brushes against my breast as he pushes the axe into the wood. I suck in a breath of surprise, and suddenly there’s a flash of red.
“Fuck!” Duke snaps.
Scout lets out a strangled meow, startled by the noise. She zips out of the workshop, sending several tools toppling to the ground as she goes. Once the clattering stops, all that’s left is Duke’s grunts of frustration as he examines his hand. There’s a deep gash on his thumb, blood running down his arm.
“Crap,” I mutter, looking around for something to stop the bleeding.
“It’s okay. I’m fine.” Duke is scowling at his thumb like it’s offended him somehow.
“You’re not fine! You’re bleeding.”
Unable to see anything that will stench the flow of blood, I lift my hand, resting it against Duke’s back and pushing him forward.
“We need to get you inside,” I say. “Do you have bandages?”
“There’s a first-aid kit in the bathroom.”
Duke lets me guide him into the cabin, still insisting he’s fine.
“It’s my own damn fault for slicing into my own thumb,” he grumbles as he unlocks the door to his cabin, letting us inside.
I catch a quick glimpse of his giant living room with its stone fireplace and overstuffed armchairs, but I don’t stop to look around.
“Bathroom?” I ask.
He gestures to a door and I hurry inside, finding the first-aid kit in a cupboard along with a clean cloth and a plastic bowl, which I fill with water and soap.
“Honestly, Ariana, you don’t need to—” Duke says as I reenter the living room. He’s sitting at a large wooden table, his arm streaked with bright red blood.
I ignore his words and sit in the chair beside him, taking the injured hand in mine and bathing it in the bowl of water, which turns a light shade of pink.
“My parents made me join the Girl Scouts when I was eight,” I mutter, focusing intently on cleaning the wound. “They thought it would help me come out of my shell. It didn’t, but I’ve been waiting all my life to put my first aid badge to good use.”
Duke’s lips twitch, his eyes softening. “Well, in that case, I’m all yours, Doc.”