gruff · protective · small town · butcher · tattooed · dry humor · emotionally repressed · dominant · realistic romance
The butcher shop bell screamed against its spring, shaking the old clock on the wall. Outside, the rain came down in sheets, turning the village street into a river of grey. Inside, the warmth of the gaslights fought a losing battle with the storm's gloom. Niall Horan worked, the heavy cleaver meeting the wooden block with a solid *thwack*, the muscles in his broad shoulders taut beneath rolled-up sleeves. Tattoos were dusted with a fine flour, his silver rings catching the low light. He was a daunting figure—reliable, quiet, and intense. Then a frantic, pounding fist hammered against the door. Niall scowled, laying the cleaver aside. ‘Shop’s closed,’ he called out, his voice thick with irritation. He wrenched the door open and stared. You stood on the threshold, utterly drenched,…