Chapter 6

Chapter Six

S arah

The first clap of thunder rattles the cabin as I set the kettle on the stove. I glance toward the window, where rain lashes against the glass in furious sheets. The storm is relentless, but it’s the cozy warmth of the cabin that settles over me like a blanket.

“Storm’s worse than they said it’d be,” Grady says from the couch, his voice low and rough, like gravel on a quiet road. He’s got a deck of cards in one hand, shuffling them with an ease that’s almost hypnotic. Bear lies sprawled at his feet, his tail thumping lazily whenever Grady’s voice dips toward affection.

“I noticed,” I reply, pouring the hot water into two mugs. “Hot cocoa okay?”

Grady gives me a small grunt that I’ve learned means yes. I bring the mugs over, and he takes his without meeting my eyes, focused instead on the cards in his hand. He’s always like this, gruff and guarded, but I’ve seen the cracks in his armor. The way he takes care of Bear so tenderly, or the way his warm eyes hang on mine, concern sketched in his irises.

“You know how to play Euchre?” he asks, his voice cutting through my thoughts.

I shake my head. “Never even heard of it.”

A faint smirk tugs at his lips, the closest thing to a smile I’ve seen from him so far. “Figures. City girl like you probably knows bridge or some fancy game.”

I roll my eyes and settle on the couch opposite him. “Teach me, mountain man.”

He arches a brow at my challenge, his smirk widening. “All right, sweet girl. But don’t whine when I wipe the floor with you.”

The game begins simply enough, with Grady explaining the rules in his no-nonsense way. He’s patient, surprisingly so, but every now and then, his teasing slips through.

“Trump’s spades,” he says, setting his cards down with a flourish. “And if you don’t know what that means by now, we’re doomed.”

I huff, pretending to glare at him. “It’s not my fault you’re a terrible teacher.”

His eyes glint with amusement as he leans back, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his flannel. “Maybe I’m just testing how smart you really are.”

The banter flows easily between us, each round of cards bringing me closer to understanding the game—and him. There’s a warmth in his teasing, a playfulness I didn’t expect. And when I win my first round, he narrows his eyes at me like I’ve committed a crime.

“Beginner’s luck,” he mutters, shuffling the deck again.

The power flickers just then, plunging the room into brief darkness before the soft hum of the lights returns. Grady’s movements still, his gaze flicking to the window, then to me.

“Hold on,” he says, rising from the couch. He disappears into the kitchen, and when he returns, it’s with a handful of candles and a lighter. He sets them on the coffee table, their warm glow casting flickering shadows across the room.

The atmosphere shifts, the storm outside only amplifying the intimacy of the moment. Grady sits closer this time, his knee brushing against mine as he picks up the cards. His beard catches the candlelight, the sharp angles of his face softened by the glow. I find myself staring a little too long, my heart tripping over itself when his gaze meets mine.

“What?” he asks, his voice a rough murmur.

“Nothing,” I lie, looking away. “Just…thinking.”

“About?”

I hesitate, unsure if I want to admit that I was thinking about him—how close he feels, how his scent is a mix of pine, woodsmoke, and rain and something undeniably Grady. Instead, I shrug and say, “How bad you’re gonna lose this round.”

His laugh is low and genuine, and it does something to my chest. “We’ll see about that.”

The game resumes, but my focus isn’t on the cards. It’s on the way his hand moves, the veins in his forearms shifting as he places his cards down. It’s on the way his knee brushes mine again, this time lingering just a little longer. The tension between us is thick, unspoken but undeniable.

Another clap of thunder shakes the cabin, followed by a low whine from Bear. He scrambles to his feet, his tail tucked between his legs as he searches for a place to hide.

“Guess we should call it,” Grady tosses his cards down on the table and moves to the couch. I follow him, settling my legs under myself before Bear hops up and tries to squeeze himself between Grady and me. “Big tough guy,” Grady mutters, scratching Bear behind the ears. “You’re okay, bud.”

Bear isn’t satisfied with the reassurance, though, and wedges himself onto the couch, forcing Grady and me even closer together. Our knees bump, and I can feel the heat radiating off him, the electricity of our proximity.

“Looks like we’re all crammed in here now,” I say, my voice lighter than I feel.

Grady’s lips twitch, but his gaze lingers on me, dark and intense. “Could be worse.”

The thunder rolls again, and Bear lets out another whine, burying his face in my lap. I stroke his fur, trying to soothe him, but my focus keeps drifting to Grady—how his hand rests on Bear’s back, his fingers inches from mine.

“This is nice,” I say softly, my voice barely audible over the storm. “Feels…right.”

Grady’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. “Yeah,” he says, his voice rough. “It does.”

The air between us crackles, and before I can think better of it, I reach out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. He stills under my touch, his gaze locking on mine with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine.

“Sarah,” he murmurs, his voice a warning and a promise all at once.

“Yes?” I whisper, my hand lingering against his temple.

His hand covers mine, rough and warm, pulling it away from his face but not letting go. “Don’t look at me like that unless you mean it.”

The thunder crashes again, but it’s nothing compared to the storm brewing between us. I open my mouth to respond, but before I can, Bear shifts, breaking the spell. He climbs onto Grady’s lap, his sheer size forcing Grady to scoot closer to me.

“Your emotional support animal is a little pushy,” I tease, my voice shaky but light.

Grady chuckles, the sound low and rough. “Takes after me, I guess.”

I laugh, the tension easing just enough for me to breathe again. But as the storm rages outside and we’re crammed together on this couch, I can’t help but think about how right this feels. About how, for the first time in a long time, I don’t want the moment to end.

Bear lets out a contented sigh, his massive head resting on Grady’s thigh. I lean back, my shoulder brushing against Grady’s, and close my eyes.

“Grady,” I say softly.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for…everything.”

His hand finds mine again, squeezing gently. “You don’t have to thank me, sweet girl. Taking care of you—it makes me feel…” He trails off, his voice thick with emotion.

“Complete?” I finish for him, my voice just as unsteady.

He doesn’t respond, but his grip on my hand tightens, and I know he feels it too. This connection, this pull between us—it’s undeniable, and it’s only growing stronger.

We sit like that for what feels like hours, the storm outside a backdrop to the quiet storm brewing between us. And as the candles flicker and the fire crackles, I know one thing for certain: I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.