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He strides from the building then returns almost immediately carrying a few palm sized stones. “You can use these for practice with the grinder. These probably aren’t the same hardness but should help give you an idea about needed pressure and movement.”

The tips of his ears go red before the color flushes over the visible angles of his cheekbones. I wonder what his blush looks like under his beard. Then I wonder what made him blush. The sound of his throat clearing is loud in the quiet forge. His tone is slightly deeper, raspy, when he continues. “Then you can make your decision on what shape you want to create.”

I don’t want us to be uncomfortable around each other, so I bury my questions about his reaction and stick to a neutral topic. “You’ll need to show me how to use the equipment.”

Before long I’m settled on a high stool. My legs aren’t long enough to reach the floor, so he finds a small wooden box for me to use as a footrest. Once he’s satisfied with my position and comfort, he turns on the grinder and under a trickle of water he says will help keep the surfaces cool, he demonstrates shaping one of the practice stones.

Then it’s my turn and although at first my nerves make my hands shake, soon I’m moving and shaping my practice piece with relative confidence. When I ask about creating specific angles, and don’t understand Knight’s explanation, he stands behind me and covers my hands with his, demonstrating as he patiently explains again. The rumble of his voice against my back does amazing things to my lady bits. It’s difficult to focus on anything other than the heat of his body against mine and my reactions.

At one point, he angles his body a bit and I hold back the sound of my disappointment. If we could stay here like this, I… I don’t know what. I know I’m attracted to him. Very attracted. And I like him. Each little bit of information I learn about him increases that emotion and makes me want more. He’s comfortable, no, I’m comfortable around him.

He turns off the machine. “I think you’ve got the idea. I need… uh… to get to work. Let me know if you have any questions.”

Before he moves away, I touch his arm and he freezes. “Thank you. Would it be okay if I just sit here and watch you work for a bit?”

“That’s fine. You’re welcome to move around the forge when you want. Just don’t come too close when I’m at the actual forge or working with the mechanical press. I’m not accustomed to having anyone here with me and it could be dangerous if I’m distracted.”

The next few hours fly by. I remain on my side of the building where thank the stars, I have a great view. Even though the fire and the machinery make a lot of noise, he explains every step of his process for each item he works on. I watch him pound a large rectangle of multiple layers of steel into a blade for a hunting knife. He takes smaller square billets of steel and somehow creates the perfect rounded sides and pointy end for tops. While I thought making the blobby paperweights would be easier, he spends long minutes on each, nudging and hammering the different shapes and patterns until he’s satisfied.

He gets so involved in his work, he doesn’t notice when I slip away then return with grilled cheese sandwiches and canned fruit for our lunch. In the afternoon I help polish finished pieces while he attaches handles to the knives.

As we’re packing completed work into padded crates to take to the festival, he glances toward my workspace. “How’s your project coming along?”

“Pretty good, I think. Tomorrow I’d like to practice more, if you think there’s some extra rocks around.”

He chuckles. “I suppose we might be able to find a few.”

“Then I might be brave enough to try to fix my tower. Besides, watching you made me realize that even if something happens and my original plan doesn’t work out, that doesn’t mean the tower is ruined. No matter what shape the stone ends up being, it’s still a beautiful example of snowflake obsidian and worth a place in my collection.”

“You figured that out by watching me?”

“Yeah. When there was a layer that didn’t weld properly for that last paperweight, you cut it away and used the good part of the billet to make a smaller paperweight. One that turned out especially pretty with the raindrop Damascus.”

“So I’m forging life lessons? Never thought about it like that.”

“Life lessons?” I pause to think. “Oh sugar lumps, I suppose my observations could be considered a lesson. And I should pay attention to that thought, shouldn’t I?”

“Everyone should.” He rubs one shoulder and winces. “I need to clean up, then see what we can dig up for supper.”

“Supper’s covered. I found steaks in that ice cave of a freezer. You’ll need to defrost it soon or you won’t be able to fit anything in there.”

“Been thinking about getting a new one and maybe starting the kitchen remodel over the winter.”

“I have some suggestions.” Yikes, I didn’t mean to say that. It’s not like I’m going to be around to see the remodel. That knowledge sobers my enthusiasm. I want to be around before, during, after. As long as I’m with Knight.

“Suggestions are welcome. And thanks for planning supper.”

While he showers, I fix our meal. I’m comfortable in a kitchen, it’s a happy place for me. The compliments he lavishes on the meal are worth the search I’d made for ingredients to make a peach crisp. He pushes away his plate after a second serving of dessert and stretches. He winces again.

“You overdid it with that shoulder,” I say, planting my hands on my hips. “Do you have any ointment or rub or anything?”

“In the bathroom. I’ll rub some on later.”

I start tapping my foot and he bites back a grin. “Nope,” I say. “Go sit on the couch and take off your shirt.”

His brows arch and I swear his brown eyes go even darker. “It’s chilly in here. How about a fire?”

“Sounds good. You do that and I’ll get the rub. Now move.”