I finally glance up as he rounds the fence. The navy blue work coat he’s wearing is unzipped and his hands are a rosy color from the cold. No gloves and an open coat negates his entitlement to comment on my state of dress. I won’t say that out loud because it makes me feel good when he worries about me in any capacity. His light brown hair is damp, which tells me he overslept and rushed out of the shower to take care of the morning feed. A few strands fall across his forehead and when he pushes them back absently, my throat tightens. I want to do that for him. I want to be able to touch him whenever I want.

"It’s not that bad," I say, my voice lighter than I feel.

He doesn’t answer, instead he glances around like he’s surveying the entire property. Only when he’s satisfied does he walk straight to me and drop down onto my blanket like he’s done it a hundred times before.

Because he has.

His body heat immediately cuts through the chill, his thigh brushing mine as he stretches out beside me. I try not to react, but it’s impossible. He’s too big, too warm, too close.

My skin tingles the second he touches me. It's always been like that. There’s this electric pull between the two of us that ignites every nerve ending in my body. Even now, sitting inches apart, my nipples tighten against the inside of my bra, and heat pools low in my belly. My thighs clench, desperate and aching only for him. There’s plenty of men in Castlebrook Falls, but my body only reacts this way when he’s close to me.

He leans back on his elbows, breath fogging in the air. "You pretending to read again?"

I nudge him with my shoulder and roll my eyes petulantly. "You pretending not to be nosy again?" He knows I’m here for him, but that doesn’t mean I have to say the words and make him any prouder of himself than he already is.

His smirk is lazy, familiar, and meant just for me when he says, "You’re shivering. Come here."

It’s not a request.

He shifts, one arm opening like an invitation. And I hesitate. Just for a second. But it’s enough.

His brows pull together. "Lakynn."

That’s all it takes because I’m moving toward him as if he’s got some kind of magnetic pull.

I curl into his side, my cheek finding the space between his shoulder and chest. His arm slides around me, anchoring me like he always does. It’s probably wishful thinking, but it feels like he needs to hold me this way. Like he can’t help himself.