Page 45 of Wood Riddance
And he had the absolute audacity to show up wearing jeans. Old jeans, all worn and smooth and clinging to his thick and powerful thighs. Asshole. The way he hovered, arms crossed and grinning at me, made my body light up in ways it definitely shouldn’t have been. I hated this man. And even though it was a bit of a relief to see shades of the cocky bastard I used to know—before his father’s arrest, and before the town had turned on him—these interactions had to stop.
Because being stuck in a steel box with him, at night, with an axe in my hand, spelled disaster.
“Leave.” It was a demand. Without waiting for him to acquiesce, I walked up to the line and took aim. Slowly, I pulled my elbow back and threw. Holding my breath, I watched the axe make one perfect rotation before hitting the target.
Behind me, a low whistle rent the air.
“You’re still here?” I huffed, whipping around again.
He walked closer, ignoring my comments. “You’re pretty good at this.” Without stopping, he skirted past me and yanked the axe out of the wooden target. “Mind if I give it a try?”
“Yes.” Planting my hands on my hips, I shot him a glare. “I do mind.”
Turning the axe in his hand, he studied the handle and hefted it, getting a sense of its weight. Completely ignoring my dirty looks, he stepped up to the line.
As he brought his arms up, I shuffled back, giving him space, and watched as the axe spun wildly, bounced off the target, and fell to the floor.
“Not as easy as it looks, eh?” I said, smugness building in my chest.
He turned, wearing a grin. “Still fun to try.”
I took another axe from the small rack and elbowed past him. Once I’d lined myself up, I breathed deeply, focusing on the weight of the blade in my hand and looking directly at the bull’s-eye. Then I let it fly.
“Fuck,” he said when it hit the red bull’s-eye.
“What? You surprised a woman could throw an axe like that?”
“No, ma’am,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “That’s some deadly aim.”
I picked up another axe and turned toward him. “Thank you. And if you everma’amme again, I’ll slice your balls off and feed them to Clive.”
He ducked his head and chuckled, as if my threats of bodily harm were amusing. “What’s the deal with that moose? Why hasn’t anyone shot him yet?”
I gasped and pulled my shoulders back. “How dare you malign Clive? He is a valued member of this community.”
Finn mirrored my movement, taking a step closer. “He’s a semi-domesticated moose who loves to fuck shit up and cause property damage. He should be made into jerky.”
“Do not ever repeat those words,” I warned. “You think the town hates you now? Mess with Clive, and they’ll run you out of here with torches and pitchforks.”
He frowned and shook his head. “I don’t get it. He’s a menace.”
“We keep you around, don’t we? It’s obvious our standards are set pretty low.”
Ignoring me, he sauntered to the other end of the container, giving me a wide berth on his way past. He studied the target, then picked up the spray bottle I kept on the floor and sprayed it down thoroughly.
My heart lurched in my chest again. Dammit. It might be time to get that checked out. How would he know to do that? Keeping the wood moist made it softer, in turn encouraging axes to remain lodged where they hit. But what was he doing?
He wiped his hands on those damn jeans and raised one brow. “Let’s play a game.”
Heart thumping against my ribs and suspicion rising, I regarded him. “Do you want me to explain the rules? The scoring?”
He shook his head, picking up an axe. “Nah, I’ll learn as we go.”
Narrowing my eyes, I studied him, searching for any sign that he was messing with me, but his expression remained passive, innocent.Must be an idiot.So sure, why not make things interesting? “Bull’s-eye is six points. The next ring is four, and then three, two, and one. You get ten throws. Best score wins.”
“Like I said, I’ll figure it out.” He shrugged.
“How about a friendly wager?” I asked, my voice dripping with honey.
