Sophia's Timber Temptation Rekindled

The rain hammered down like it had a grudge, turning the market parking lot into a shimmering chaos. But there she was—Sophia, her pastel purple waves plastered to her fair skin, blue eyes locking onto mine with that mix of hurt and hunger. I'd screwed up last time, walking away from the best thing I'd felt in years. Now, with my custom wooden display cradled under my arm, I knew one look, one touch, and we'd be lost again. The storm outside was nothing compared to the one brewing between us. I'd spent the last week carving that wooden display like it was my salvation—a sleek stand shaped like twisting vines, perfect for her nurse's badge collection or whatever little treasures she held dear. Sophia had mentioned it offhand last time, during that silversmith night market haze, before I let my idiot pride push her away. Now, with thunder rumbling over the weekend market, I spotted her weaving through the stalls, her petite frame swallowed by a flowy sundress that clung just enough in the gathering mist to remind me of curves I'd barely begun to explore. She saw me before I could call out, those blue eyes widening under the brim of her hood. Rain started spitting then, fat drops that made the crowd scatter. 'Marcus?' Her voice cut through the din, sweet and tentative, laced with that playful lilt that always twisted something deep in my gut. I held up the display, water already beading on the polished oak. 'Sophia. I was an ass. This is for you—no strings, just... sorry.' She stepped closer, fingers brushing the wood, and the simple touch sent a jolt through me. Her fair skin flushed pink against the gray sky, lips parting in surprise. We ducked under my truck's tailgate as the...