The heat slammed into her before she even opened the door.
Thick. Oppressive. Molten.
Her camera lens fogged. Her breath caught.
The forge blazed like a beast in the center of the room. Sparks crackled in the air. Every surface gleamed with sweat and steel.
And at the anvil stood a man.
Naked from the waist up.
Firelight kissed his carved chest, thick arms glistening with sweat. His back was broad. Roped with muscle. A leather apron slung low on his hips barely covered the rest. His hammer struck hot metal, the sound echoing through the cabin like a heartbeat.
She didn’t mean to stare.
But he didn’t look up.
Not even when she spoke.
“Hi. I’m… I’m with Highland Profiles magazine. I sent letters. About the article.”
He didn’t stop hammering.
“I’ve been trying to reach you,” she a
