Page 27 of Say It Isn't Snow
My grip tightens on the axe because I’m hardwired to fight anyone who tries to tell me to do something out of stubbornness. He doesn’t give it up yet, studying me tenderly.
“I’ll do it for you,” he says.
“I can do it myself,” I shoot back.
“I know. But I want to take care of it for you so you don’t wear yourself out.”
My stomach flips. When he says things like that, my heart forgets why I shouldn’t like him.
“Unless you want me to teach you?” He steps into me. “Show you how to hold it right? If that’s what you want, say the word.”
I release the handle with a sharp inhale at the innuendo and narrow my eyes. “I can’t stand you.”
He tilts his head, chuckling with a smug grin. “Is that right? I don’t believe you.”
Make that two of us. Because I’m not sure my own words are convincing when my heart is beating fast and being near him sparks excitement that races through me.
“Enjoy your coffee,” he murmurs.
He guides me a few paces away with a hand resting at my lower back to keep me out of harm's way before he plants his feet and winds up.
With one swing that embodies the strength, grace, and coordination of the athlete he is, he splits the log I hacked at in two. Then he resets a piece and splinters it in half again, then another until it’s whittled down to four pieces.
He makes it look effortless. And hot. Really fucking hot.
My mouth goes dry as he continues, hoisting up a bulky log like it weighs nothing at all to him before bringing the axe down with a masculine grunt. The crack of the wood coming apart where the axe strikes reverberates with a pang of desire inside me. The simmering, insistent pulse continues with each chop until I’m aching.
It’s impossible to tear my attention from him.
As an eldest daughter, I’m as independent as they come. Yet part of me likes the ways he’s taking care of me.
CHAPTER 10
CALEB
Being tucked awayfrom the world is pure bliss. I’m enjoying the hell out of this. My concerns over my contract termination have been buried by every minute spent with Holly earning those mouthy retorts that drive me wild and testing all the ways to make her blush.
At least until I read the new messages from my family group chat. Cell service has become more reliable since early this morning when I almost put my phone through the wall to stop the alarm dragging me from sleep before dawn, then remembered my motivation for getting my ass out of bed before the sun’s up.
I’m expecting another check in from my family. What I get instead is a link from my sister to a sports news site with a headline that readsOne Half of the Star Adler Brothers League Combo—Not Fit for the Culture?
Fucking vultures. They’re still at it?
The worst part of this is that no matter what, people will remember this about me. The fans. Whatever team I end up with in the future. Any staff within that organization.
Once an opinion hits the internet, it spreads like wildfire. Little can be done to douse those flames, and no one cares toknow the true story when there’s juicy drama to entertain them instead.
I don’t bother clicking on the link. My brother’s on damage control as the only one in my family I told the full truth to.
Elijah
Layla… [gravestone emoji]
Mom
What is this? You know your father and I don’t like to see these nasty articles. They’re fish bait.
Elijah
