In that moment, staring up at me with tears welling in her eyes, she looked so delicate and vulnerable. Like the girl I’d fallen in love with all those years ago. There was no defiance, no anger. Just fear.
It broke my heart. That she ever doubted what she meant to me.
“I love you, Chloe,” I said softly as a tear ran down her cheek. “I’ve always loved you.”
Stepping back, she covered her face with her hands and shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “After years of thinking you didn’t love me the way I loved you, this is all too much.”
My heart panged at the agony in her voice. Dammit. I needed to make her understand. That I loved her then, but I loved her more now. “Come with me.” Clutching her hand, I led her out of the house and over to the structure that served as both garage and workshop. I keyed in the code, and the door opened slowly. My truck was parked in the first bay. A tractor, a plow blade, and an ATV occupied the other. On the far side was my workshop, with tools, tables, and pegboard walls, all labeled and organized.
As I guided her back to where I had several projects going, I pulled on the lights. When the space was illuminated, I held out an arm, gesturing to the industrial steel racks lining the back wall.
“Look.”
With a small gasp, she stopped, her eyes widening. But she only stayed that way for a moment before she shuffled closer and studied each piece on the top shelf.
I’d stumbled into chainsaw art years ago, when I’d discovered it was a good coping mechanism. The ability to create detailed, delicate things with such a large, violent instrument had intrigued me and still did.
It also required total concentration, meaning it was one of few activities that could drown out the noise in my mind. The work gave me an outlet when I was a confused, angry kid trying to find his way.
The eight-foot-long shelf was covered in art I had made over the years. Each one was a dragonfly. Some were large, others as small as I could create. Some abstract, others finely detailed. Some in flight, some at rest, and some in groups.
She turned and looked at me, her eyes misty. “You made all of these?”
I nodded. “No matter how hard I tried, I could never get you out of my head.”
“They are so beautiful,” she said softly, running her fingers along the edge of the shelf.
“So are you. With each one, I worked to capture your beauty, your strength, and the way you made me feel.”
“Gus,” she gasped, walking straight into my arms.
“Just give me a chance,” I said, angling low to gently kiss her. “And I promise I’ll love you forever.”
Chapter 31Chloe
Iwasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. He’d spent years in this workshop thinking about me. I’d convinced myself I’d meant nothing to him, when in reality, he’d been just as hurt and miserable as I’d been.
God, if only we’d been less stupid.
Here, in his arms, was where I was meant to be. And in hindsight, maybe my convoluted revenge plan had always secretly been an attempt to get back here, to what I needed most.
He tipped my chin up and kissed me, his lips hungry and firm.
Instantly, my body melted into his. How could I go from emotional to horny so quickly? I’d blame the pregnancy, but I had a feeling it was him.
With each touch from him, my body lit from within. Every brush of his fingers, every heave of his chest, sent electricity coursing through me.
We were connected on a physical level I couldn’t understand.
Just the sensation of his hands on my skin had me breathless and grabbing at the waistband of his pants.
“Gus,” I said, desperate for him.
In response to that one-word plea, he rolled my nipple between his fingers, eliciting a gasp from me. He was only touching me over my clothes, and already I was close to combusting.
“Please.”
With far too much ease, he picked me up and placed me on the wide workbench. When I was settled, he took a step back to take his shirt off. I’d never get tired of the hair on his chest or his comforting bulk. His presence was comforting, safe. It was unlike anything I’d experienced before. And it was intoxicatingly sexy.
“Pants too,” I commanded.
Chuckling, he pushed them down and stepped out of them.
When he was finally naked, I wiggled on top of the table. “Get over here.”
He scratched his chin and smiled. “Patience, Dragonfly. You look so damn hot spread out surrounded by my tools. I need a second to appreciate the view.”
My stomach swooped. “Okay, I get it. Lumberjack fantasy unlocked. You want me to wear a flannel shirt too?
“Fuck yes,” he growled, finally stepping closer. With a hand on my hip and another at the back of my neck, he pulled me into a rough kiss.
“You know,” I said as he kissed my neck while deftly unbuttoning my shirt. “That day you chopped wood in town, I was so worked up I went home and played with my toys while imagining you and that axe.”
He froze and pulled back. “Stop and tell me. In detail.”
Lurching forward, I wrapped my arms around his neck and tried to kiss him again.
