He looked like the kind of man Momma’s rules were written for.
The drive into town was quieter than yesterday. I wasn’t panicking about being in a stranger’s truck anymore. Now I was just aware of him. The way he smelled like something I could bottle and make myself a cool million. He smelled that good.
We parked near the town square, and I followed him to where the sculpture waited. In the morning light, I could see it more clearly—the rough outline of a massive grizzly, standing on its hind legs, maybe eight feet tall.
“Wow,” I breathed.
Bridger pulled on work gloves and put in a pair of orange ear plugs before picking up the chainsaw he’d brought with him.
“You can sit over there,” he said, nodding toward a bench about fifteen feet away. “Gets loud.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He studied me for a second, then nodded and fired up the chainsaw.
The noise was immediate and aggressive and somehow thrilling.
And watching him work was even better than yesterday.
He moved with complete confidence, the chainsaw an extension of his body. Carving away wood in precise strips, revealing the bear underneath. Sawdust flew everywhere. His muscles flexed. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
I sat on that bench and tried to remember how to breathe like a normal person.
“This is educational,” I murmured to myself. “You’re learning about art.”
You’re learning about the art of a man, especially how his biceps look when he lifts that chainsaw and how his hands grip the handle and how his entire body moves when he—
“You okay?”
I jerked my head up. Bridger had killed the chainsaw and was looking at me.
“What? Yeah. Fine. Why?”
“You look flushed.”
Because I’m having completely inappropriate thoughts about you and your power tools.
“It’s warm,” I said.
“It’s sixty-five degrees.”
“I run hot.”
His eyes darkened, and I realized what I’d said. Heat flooded my face.
“There’s water in the cooler.” I couldn’t help but notice that his voice seemed rougher than it had this morning. Had he been thinking of me?
“Right. Yes. Water. Good idea.”
Bridger went back to work, and I went back to pretending I wasn’t watching him like he was the most interesting thing I’d ever seen.
He worked for another two hours, stopping occasionally to step back and assess his progress.
Finally, he set down the chainsaw and pulled off his gloves.
“I’m done for today,” he said.
“Already?”