I don’t need temptation. I don’t need a woman filling my head with ideas. I just need to maintain the peace I’ve created. Nothing else. I don’t need her, no matter how pretty she is. No matter how soft she is. No matter how much my entire body reacts to her presence. It’s pointless. She’ll leave eventually, even if she stays long enough to twist Liam and me in knots. It’s my job to protect my son’s heart, his mind, and him in general.
Caring about someone only makes it hurt more when they’re gone.
I’ll protect Sofia and make sure she stays safe. But that’s the end of it.
Chapter 3 - Sofia
Another day, another small thing taken care of—the last box finally unpacked and the kitchen shelves put in order.
Cole still doesn’t make much of an effort to talk to me, and I try not to take it personally. I shouldn’t expect more. He’s the owner of the property, nothing else. Not a built-in friend. Not someone meant to linger in my life beyond what’s necessary.
And if I’m being honest, my thoughts haven’t been veryfriendship-relatedeither.
I keep telling myself I just want to know him. That curiosity is natural. But that’s not the whole truth. There’s something about him that slips past logic, settles deeper than it should. Maybe it doesn’t help that I’ve been reading romance novels on my Kindle at night, half-distracted, half-dreaming while planning the kind of bookstore I want to open in town. The shelves I’d curate. The atmosphere I’d make perfect.
Somehow, his eyes keep appearing in the heroes on those pages.
And when I picture strength, it’s Cole’s broad frame that comes to mind.
It should be easy to forget him. I hardly see him, and when I do, it’s usually when Liam is around. And yet, the small reminders never stop. The woodpile refilled without a word. The sink that works flawlessly now, as if it never gave me trouble at all.
Sometimes I catch glimpses of him outside while Liam plays. Chopping wood. Working the garden. Focused. Quiet. Often without a shirt, skin warmed by the sun, muscles moving with practiced ease.
I tell myself not to stare. I never quite manage it.
I should be researching business loans, scrolling listings for places to rent, figuring out how to bring in books that aren’t just my own. Instead, I find myself grateful for the way Cole moves through his days. Thanks to him, I’ve started leaving the doors open, letting the cool breeze drift through the house—an excuse, really, to steal another look.
While I’m in the kitchen slicing vegetables for a healthy snack for me and Liam, I feel it. That awareness. The unmistakable weight of being watched.
I pause, knife hovering mid-cut, then slowly turn my head.
Cole looks away the instant our eyes almost meet.
I might’ve convinced myself I imagined it, if I hadn’t felt his gaze moments before—steady and deliberate, like a slow caress tracking over my skin. Softer than his rough, work-worn hands would be, but not by much.
I nibble my bottom lip and let my eyes wander freely now. His broad shoulders. The dense strength in his arms. Sun-bronzed skin stretched over muscle built for lifting, holding, enduring. He’s so attractive it makes my chest ache with it, my thoughts slipping into dangerous territory.
I imagine how easily he could lift me.
What it would feel like to have his mouth claim mine.
How completely he could wrap himself around me.
The thought settles deep and quiet, unsettling and intoxicating all at once.
My grip slips for just a second.
Pain flashes sharp and bright along my finger, and I gasp as the knife skids against the counter. Blood wells immediately, dark and steady, spilling into my palm as I instinctively clutch my hand to my chest.
“Damn it—”
I drop the knife into the sink and turn toward the tap, already cataloguing what I need. Water first. Pressure. Clean it properly. It’s not deep enough for stitches, but it’s a clean slice and it’s bleeding more than I’d like.
“Sofia!” Liam shouts, panic ringing through his voice.
Heavy footsteps hit the kitchen almost instantly.
Cole is there before I can even respond.
