She glanced over and saw Bear was in the side yard by the woodshed. Shirtless, jeans low on his hips, work boots unlaced. He had the maul raised over his head and brought it down in one clean arc, and the log split and fell in two halves, and he reached for the next one without pausing.
She stood with her bag strap in her hand and watched him set another log on the stump. The axe rose. Came down. The wood split into two perfect halves.
The muscles in his back shifted and gathered under his skin with every swing, the ink on his arms catching the afternoon light, and she was aware—specifically, inconveniently aware—that she had been in a car for the better part of six hours and had not thought about anything beautiful in three days.
He was objectively beautiful.
It was annoying.
And exactly what she needed.
She dropped her bag on the porch and crossed the street. She leaned against the fence rail, crossed her arms, and watched him work.
“Paul Bunyan,” she said. “Didn’t know you made house calls.”
He set another log on the stump. “You’re back early.”
“I’m back on time. Wednesday, like I said.”
The axe came down. He kicked the halves aside and reached for the next log. “How was Spokane?”
“Riveting.” She watched his back move. “Really enriching experience. Would recommend.”
He glanced at her, taking in her face—the dark circles, probably—and said nothing. He looked back at the wood.
She hated that he could read her that fast and still not say a single word about it.
She glanced around the yard. King was stretched out in a slice of afternoon sun against the house’s foundation, watching them with half-open eyes. His tail wagged once when Atlas joined him,
“Where’s Logan?”
“He’s staying at the ranch tonight. Helping X with some PR thing.”
“How is he?”
His shoulders relaxed a degree. “Better.”
“Good.” She meant it. She’d thought about Logan on the drive home—thought about the forest, the downed log, the way he’d called out for his dad in that small, raw voice. She’d thought about what she’d said to him and whether it had helped or just been her own baggage dressed up as comfort.
“He’s taking the summer job Cody Simms offered him at the hardware store,” Bear added.
“Wow. That’s huge.”
“It’s a step in the right direction,” he agreed.
“And how’s Lila? I’ve been meaning to check in.”
Bear set the axe against the stump and reached for the water bottle on the fence post. “Worried. Luke’s been at it again.”
“Badly?”
“Yeah.” He drank, set it back. Didn’t elaborate.
“I’m not going to say I told you so, but…”
He looked at her.
“I told you so,” she said. “He needs help. Not for you and Lila to cover for him.”
