Tonight proved it.

“You’re breaking my heart, Zoey Bear. You know that, right?” Those gorgeous eyes gleamed with instant tears. She started to pull back, but Graham shook his head, smiling against her lips. “You’re worth it. You’ve always been worth it.”

“Graham? I love you.”

Brokenhearted wasn’t anywhere close to what this felt like. With four soft words, she had destroyed him.

And as he drew her into his arms, into his bed and too deep into his life, Graham knew that no one else would be able to fix what loving her had done to him.

Chapter 17

The sun never really set up there, leaving a soft glow of gray light around the edges of the window shade. After two weeks of sleeping on a couch, it felt good to curl up on a real bed, a pillow beneath her head that wasn’t starched and perfectly pressed. This pillow was soft and lumpy and real. It smelled like shampoo and Graham, deodorant and bakery bread, and was warm like the space next to her in the now empty bed.

For a moment, it hurt like nothing had ever hurt before, waking up in his bed alone. But then Zoey opened her eyes and saw the small take-out bag on the nightstand next to her, with the label marked from that morning. Opening the bag revealed a cinnamon roll from Frankie’s.

He’d snuck out of bed and gotten her favorite breakfast. A whole different kind of warmth filled her, and Zoey rolled onto her back, wriggling deeper in the bedding.

“You get points for that one,” she decided.

He got points for more than breakfast. As she closed her eyes, memories of last night curled around her as pleasantly as Graham’s arms had as she slept. Being with Graham was a perfect combination of sweet kisses and soft teasing, tempering an otherwise unbridled passion that left her shivering in remembrance. He’d put it all on the table, letting her see how much he wanted her.

The sound of a chainsaw was muted enough she almost didn’t notice it, so lost in her memories. Curious, Zoey rose out of bed—nearly stepping on a snoozing Jake.

“Sorry,” she murmured, patting his head before peering out the window. The large door to Graham’s workshop was swung closed but still slightly ajar.

“What’s he up to, Jake? Or did he just wander off on you like normal?”

The border collie wagged his tail adorably in answer.

After dressing, Zoey found a sticky note on the bathroom mirror pointing at a still packaged toothbrush sitting on the counter. Smiling to herself at his thoughtfulness, she finished getting ready, then headed outside.

Graham had moved outside his workshop, chainsaw in hands and welding mask over his face. There was a looseness to his stance, a relaxation to his shoulders that matched what Zoey felt. Circling the log, Graham seemed to consider it, tilting his head to the right for a moment. Then he lifted the chainsaw higher and started carving.

Watching him work fascinated Zoey. By the time he was done, little bits of wood and a thin coating of sawdust clung to his arms and chest. Graham set the chainsaw aside, pushing the welding mask up from his face. He eyed his work critically but for once seemed pleased with the result. As Graham ran a careful thumb along the newly carved lines in the log, Zoey couldn’t help but remember the night before.

That was how he touched her too.

“Hey there, Zoey Bear,” Graham murmured sweetly. “Did I wake you up?”

“Only in the good way.”

Meeting him at the log, Zoey went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. The corners of his eyes crinkled as she made a face, wiping her lips to remove sawdust from them.

“The fiber’s good for you,” he reminded her even as he peeled his shirt off and used the inside of the fabric to scrub his face and neck clean of debris.

The view around her was fabulous, but the view in front of her was good enough to leave her mouth watering.

Remembering those same broad shoulders and muscled arms from last night, she closed the distance between them. Tracing her palms over his stomach, Zoey felt his muscles contract beneath her touch. When she glanced up at him, Graham was watching her with heat in his eyes.

“Sorry, not sorry. The goods were on display.”

Snorting a laugh, Graham wrapped his hands around her hips and pulled her closer. “Voyeur.”

“Maybe.”

They snuck into the workshop, craving privacy even though they were alone. The steel shipping container that had once freaked her out was now the perfect place to wrap her arms around Graham’s waist. This time, there wasn’t sawdust when she kissed him, only the hint of coffee and the same minty toothpaste she’d used herself. Graham deepened the kiss, taking a step forward so that her hips bumped his work bench. Sitting on top of the bench worked a lot better. Zoey didn’t have to crane her head back to kiss him, and his muscled torso was far more accessible.

Graham kissed his way down the side of her neck, nipping lightly at the junction of her shoulder and making her tighten her knees into his hips.

“Here?” she murmured.

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll get splinters in my butt. And other places.”

He hoisted her off the bench, turning and settling down on a cheap folding chair with her on his lap. “There. Safe and sound.”

“Aren’t we too heavy for this?” she asked.

“Naw.” His mouth pressed slow, deliberate kisses along her pulse point, leaving her heart racing. Safe and sound wasn’t the descriptor Zoey would have used for how Graham made her feel. Burning alive from the inside out was far closer. And as she leaned in to kiss him again, she knew she never wanted this feeling to end.

* * *

Eventually, she abandoned his lap for his artwork. Or what he hoped was art.

Graham watched Zoey move about his workshop, slender fingers tracing the lines of his most recent failure like it was something precious. “This is beautiful.”

“It’s better, but it’s not…” Graham trailed off, swallowing the knee-jerk reaction to joke about what was wrong with the carving. “It’s better,” he finally said. “Zoey?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you ever watch Ghost?”

She snickered, moving deeper into the workshop. “If you’re suggesting we recreate the pottery wheel scene with a chainsaw and wood chips flying, you’re reaching high.”

“It’s not my fault you’re top shelf.”

Her cheeks flushed at the compliment, eyes dropping down to what was supposed to be a chair. It was more like a butt-sized bowl chopped out of a stump.

“I love this.”

Graham loved her, but he had absolutely no idea what to do about it. The only logical option was to follow her around the shop, a puppy on a string that she had no idea was tied to her pinkie finger. She rounded the table and ended up back at the butt stump. It didn’t fit Graham at all, but it was perfect for her. When Zoey wriggled in delight when the seat ended up holding her curves perfectly, Graham was done.

“Hey, Zo?”

“Hmm?”

“I like your glasses.”

“No one likes my glasses.”

“I do.” He gently took them off her face, leaving her blinking owlishly at him. Smiling, he replaced them on her nose. “That’s why I don’t want to scratch them.”

“Why would you scratch them?”

“Because I want to recreate Ghost.” Graham covered her glasses with his welding mask.

“You want to carve things with a chainsaw all sexy like with a half-blind woman in a welding mask?”

“Well, when you put it that way…yes. Absolutely.”

He led her outside where they clipped Jake to his tie-out on the porch so he wouldn’t be in reach of any flying wood chips. Then, in the exact same place where she’d once kicked him and run screaming because of his chainsaw, Zoey hefted her own chainsaw and gave him an excited grin.

Teaching Zoey to carve was fun, even though it was louder than pottery, and they didn’t have a killer theme song. Arms around her to guide the movements of the saw, Graham helped her carve her name into a chunk of cedar. Then, because he was an absolute idiot for her, he added Jake’s name too with a few three-dimensional hearts surrounding both.

“Don’t tell anyone I’m this lame,” Graham whispered against her neck when they’d turned off the saw.

“Oh, I’m telling everyone,” Zoey promised.

She squealed when he made a playful grab for her. This time, Graham didn’t suffer any physical pain or have the cops called for running after Zoey in his yard. Instead, he ended up with the woman of his dreams in his arms as Jake barked from the porch, whining because he wanted in on the fun.

“House?” he asked her, because she had that look in her eye, the one he couldn’t say no to.

“I have a better idea.” When she dragged him back into the workshop instead, Graham remembered all over again why she was perfect for him.

There were logistical issues with making love in a woodworker’s workshop. Still, Graham didn’t think he’d made too much of a mess of things. Afterward, Zoey curled up on a bench he had made, her head pillowed on his balled-up, sawdusty shirt as she took a nap, simultaneously the cutest and sexiest thing Graham had ever seen.

He didn’t blame her for being exhausted. Yesterday’s ordeal would have been enough for anyone to be worn down, but Graham had spent the night showing her how much she mattered to him. He’d taken his time, careful to make sure their passion wasn’t one-sided. Watching her fall apart in his arms had been one of the best experiences of his life.

Now the little tourist who had stolen his heart had also stolen his bench. And he didn’t mind one single bit. Unwilling to wake her up, Graham untied Jake and went about organizing his shop instead of continuing to carve. Jake had been napping at her feet, but at the sound of gravel crunching beneath tires, he lifted his head and gave a warning woof.

“I know, buddy. I’m not sure who thinks it’s a good idea to bother us right now.”

Us. Him and Zoey and Jake. Graham’s little island of happiness that he didn’t want invaded just then.