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I nod. “Go get it and we’ll try.”

Cradling the stone in her palm, she follows me out the cabin’s rear door. I ache to take her hand but settle for attempting to make her laugh. “I had an interesting thought last night.”

“When you weren’t sleeping? Oh, don’t look so surprised. Every time I woke up, I could tell you were awake, too. So what was that thought?”

I point to her stone. “You said the tip was missing, completely broken off.”

She tilts her head and nods.

“Imagine what might happen if Pete found it, by stepping on it with a bare foot.”

Her lips part in a silent ‘o’ then she laughs, a deep, honest laugh. “He’d jump around, cussing. I don’t like being mean, but he kinda deserves that and it would be a fair way for the universe to get back at him.” She laughs again. “I really would like to see that. Okay, with that image in my brain I’m ready to get busy.”

We’re half way across the yard when she stops. “I forgot to ask if I can charge my phone. I know reception out here can be iffy. But I like to keep it charged, just in case.”

Berating myself—again—for being an idiot, I nod. “There’s a charging station in the forge, as well as one in the cabin. I apologize.”

“For what?”

“You must want to call someone, family, to let them know you’re okay. I have a satellite phone you can use.” This should have been one of my first responses after finding her lost on the mountain. I should have provided that safety net. I’d been so wrapped up in trying not to think about her, I hadn’t thought about her needs.

The joy of moments ago fades from her face. “No, I don’t need to call anyone. I don’t have any family who cares much about what I do. I know a lot of people, but there’s only a couple who I consider friends. Even then, I don’t want to bother them with my… instability.”

How long has this woman considered herself worthless? My chest aches for her. Being alone, living a solitary life like I have the past couple of years is my personal choice. From what she hasn’t said, I’m beginning to believe Clover has been forced to stand on her own without anyone believing in her. My poor darlin’.

Because of that, she’s stronger than she realizes. Maybe I can help her see past what others have said to discover who she really is. Right now she’d take anything I might say about her the wrong way, driving a wedge between us. So I ignore her last statement and continue toward the forge. When she moves beside me, I ask, “If you could do anything, what would be your dream job?”

“Great change of topic.”

I pretend to not hear her mumbled comment and pause with my hand resting against the door to my workspace. “I knew that I wanted to work with metal when my family moved to the area when I was a kid. There are a number of artisans along the coast who teach blade making and I was lucky to stumble across one when I got a flat tire on my bike. I was in high school. He taught me the basics. I didn’t go to college although I did take some classes at a community college.”

“I can’t imagine knowing what you wanted to do with your life at such a young age. I’m still searching and trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.”

“Nothing wrong with that. Welcome to HK Forge.”

seven

Clover

The forge is spacious and open and obviously divided into areas for different parts of the production. Knight takes me on a tour, explaining each piece of equipment and tool. Everything fascinates me, from the tubes of oil used for quenching blades to the tiny hammer and anvil sized for making jewelry.

But it’s the partially finished and completed pieces lining a set of shelves that hold me in thrall. Paperweights of various shapes and sizes show off a variety of Damascus steel patterns. I’m almost afraid to touch anything until with a huff, he places a top in my hand. “These are meant to be played with and enjoyed. Give it a twirl.”

Catching my lower lip between my teeth I lean over the counter and give the top a twist. The heavy metal spins easily, the design pattern blurring then returning with smooth focus as the toy slows. “Oh my stars, that is so… it’s amazing. There’s even a swirl of colors when the light hits it.”

His grin as he replaces the top on the shelf makes my insides spin pleasantly, twisting lower into my core. These reactions go so much farther, much deeper than any I’ve experienced with a man before. What will it feel like if he touches me? Kisses me? I need to know but what if I’m wrong? Maybe he doesn’t feel anything for me other than a sense of responsibility after rescuing me yesterday.

I’ve been wrong before. Stupidly wrong. Like believing what Pete had written in his emails. Then again, maybe he had told the truth and I had wanted to be wanted so badly, I twisted the meanings in my brain. Spinning what was said into what I wanted.

“How about we get you started on your project first?”

“My project?”

He touches the obsidian tower I’d placed on the counter. “Fixing this. Still want to try?”

“Oh. Yes, please. I was thinking that it doesn’t have to have as sharp a point as originally. That might take too much off the length. So a gentler angle. Well, sugar lumps, we could just round it off or flatten the end.”

He snickers when I say sugar lumps but makes no comment on my cussing substitute. “It’s up to you. Hang on a sec.”