I didn’t.
But I sure as fuck like it.
She wants wood chopped?
Alrighty, then.
Let’s chop some damn wood.
I grab the axe from where it’s leaning against the railing, the familiar weight settling into my palm.
Then I haul an uncut log onto the old tree stump that serves as the chopping block.
The whole time, I keep glancing back toward the glass door.
Because I can’t not look.
Inside, Kelly’s peeling that paint-splattered shirt off her shoulders.
My jaw tightens.
I look down at my own shirt and decide two can play that game.
One quick motion.
The snaps pop open all the way down my chest.
I shrug the flannel back, letting it hang loose so she can see exactly what she asked for.
I’m not on job sites all day anymore, but I still work.Around the house.With the animals.In the gym downstairs when the weather turns ugly.
Point is—I’ve got a body that’s been earned.
Broad chest.
Arms built from lifting lumber and steel.
A little gray at the temples, maybe, but the rest of me still runs like a damn machine.
And the best part?
She likes it.
I can see it written all over her face through that glass.
The way her breath slows.
The way her hands hesitate halfway down her body like she’s deciding whether to keep going or just stare.
My grip tightens on the axe handle.
And I grin slow and dangerous.
“Alright, Honey,” I murmur under my breath.
Then I lift the axe high over my head and bring it down.
The crack of splitting wood echoes across the yard.
