“Yeah, I am,” I whisper into my cup.
He doesn’t smile.
But his mouth twitches.
Just the smallest shift, like he’s holding it back, like heknowswhat he’s doing.
Great. Fantastic. I’m spending the day watching a ruggedly handsome man swing an axe while I try not to combust like a candy cane in the sun.
No big deal.
I take another sip and try to get a grip.
It was just a dream. A stupid, cinnamon-scented, shirtless-dream Rhett. And this is real life. Where I film tasteful, rustic content anddo notthink about climbing him like a Christmas tree.
“Okay,” I say, setting my mug down with determination. “Let’s go make something magical.”
He nods once. “You’ll need gloves.”
“I brought spares,” I chirp, already mentally reviewing every angle that won’t get me labeled the Flannel Thirst Elf on TikTok.
He plates the bacon, sets it on the table, and gestures for me to sit.
And for the next few minutes, we eat in a comfortable, quiet rhythm.
But I swear I catch him glancing at me once or twice.
And for the first time since I got here, I’m not entirely sure I’m the only one trying to act like something didn’t happen last night.
Even if itwasjust a dream… I’m starting to wonder if maybe he had one too.
EIGHT
RHETT
I’ve been chopping wood for about thirty minutes now, and the weirdest part?
I don’t hate it.
Which is insane.
Because Ivy is exactly ten feet away, filming me from every angle like I’m starring inLumberjacks of the North: Hearththrob Edition.And instead of gritting my teeth and growling like I usually would, I’m… letting her.
Hell, I’malmostperforming. Splitting logs with cleaner swings. Wiping sweat off my brow in a way that definitely looks less like function and more like… a move.
What is happening to me?
She circles around me slowly, phone in hand, bundled in her marshmallow coat with that ridiculous fluffy pom-pom bobbing like she’s starring in a snow globe. Her boots crunch across the packed snow as she crouches for a low angle, then pops up again like she’s directing a scene.
“Can you do that again?” she asks, breathless. “That swing. Right there. From the side?”
I raise an eyebrow, resting my hand on the axe handle. “You want me to split the same logagain?”
“Just once more. It was—” She flushes, then quickly recovers. “Perfect lighting. Very… cinematic.”
Cinematic.
Right.
