Chapter Six
Brody
I stretched under the covers with a wide yawn.
A whole night of sleep without waking up once.
Even better than the night before since I hadn’t been curled up on the couch, instead having the entire bed to myself.
Not something I would have expected with having to share the cabin with a stranger.
As we spent more time together, I felt increasingly comfortable in his presence, and, for some reason, I seemed to sleep better.
With another yawn, I sat up and stretched my arms over my head.
Glancing around the cabin, I searched for Ulrik, the sexy carpenter I’d kept my eyes on as I’d fallen asleep the night before.
I did find him attractive. With his blond-highlighted, curly locks and the slightly darker scruff on his face, he reminded me of the hero from one of the cartoons I watched as a kid.
His slight accent made him sound like he purred with each word he spoke.
Ever since I’d learned he was gay, I couldn’t avoid noticing how his jeans fit snugly over his ass and how his T-shirts showed off his broad, sculpted chest, all without appearing too tight.
Yet, he’d made no indication he had any sort of feelings for me, instead letting me know he wasn’t over his deceased husband.
I could respect that. It didn’t mean I couldn’t admire him and fantasize about everything I wanted him to do to me.
Snapping out of my thoughts, I realized Ulrik wasn’t in the cabin, my heart racing in a sudden panic.
I got up and checked the bathroom, emptying my bladder while I was in there, still unable to find the guy.
Had he left without me? We’d bonded well and had planned to spend the day together.
Maybe I’d completely misread him. Or perhaps he needed more time alone than he let on and didn’t want me around while he mourned. Had I done something wrong?
Glancing out the window, I spotted his truck parked beside the cabin. He likely hadn’t gone too far, then. Up to the lodge at most.
I jumped when the door opened to reveal Ulrik standing in the doorway, with his arms full of wood. I breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t left without me. I wasn’t sure why I cared so much, since I’d fully intended to spend the week alone when I’d booked my stay.
Rushing to his side with the wood box, I took the load from his arms. “You’re up early. I didn’t even hear you.”
He shrugged as he shook the snow off his coat. “The same as I didn’t hear you yesterday. I thought I would grab some wood for the fireplace before we headed out for the day. That way it should be dry by tonight.”
“Good idea.” I carried the box to the hearth and spread the logs out so they would dry better. “Do you want to grab breakfast at the lodge before we go?” Not only did I need something to eat, I wanted to ensure he still wanted to go ahead with the plans we’d made.
He shook his head, and I worried he’d changed his mind. “There’s a coffee shop on the way to the ax-throwing place. I thought we could stop there. If that’s okay with you.”
With a nod of contentment, I quickly got dressed then headed over to the entryway cabinet.
I didn’t know how much winter gear to wear since the ax throwing was indoors.
Would we return to our cabin before our next activities or head straight there?
I decided to wear only my coat and boots, taking snow pants and the rest with me and stuffing them in the back seat of Ulrik’s truck just in case I needed them later.
Since he drove, I paid for Ulrik’s coffee and his egg and bacon bagel-wich, along with my own breakfast. The ax-throwing place was on the west side of the town and was as quiet as the sugar-bush tour had been.
I assumed all the attractions to be busier in the afternoon.
Most guests on their holidays didn’t seem to wake up as early as we did.
We seemed to be the strange ones. Thankfully, that meant no one would see how horrible I was except Ulrik.
Ulrik had booked our lane the day before, and, when we arrived, it was all set up for us with axes of varying lengths and weights.
We signed the necessary waiver then paid for the lane rental for an hour and a half.
Supposedly enough time to figure out our ax-throwing technique then to play a few rounds of the basic game.
Before we started, a coach came over to inform us of range safety and to teach the fundamentals of throwing different axes. He had us throw while he stood with us to ensure we knew what we were doing before he left.
With Ulrik’s first throw, he hit the target, just left of center. Not once but three times in a row. The coach gave him a tip to correct his aim, and, with the next one, he put the blade right into the bullseye.
When my turn came, I had a little bit of hope for my own success, knowing I wouldn’t be as good as my cabinmate.
First, I had to find the length and weight that worked for me.
I lifted several over my head in the motion I was instructed on, until I found one that felt comfortable.
When I prepared to throw the ax, I was sure I could get it somewhere on the board.
As the instructor had taught, I launched it forward.
Immediately, the ax crashed onto the floor.
Not close to the target. Instead, several feet in front of it.
“A common mistake.” The coach grabbed another ax from the table and handed it to me. “Try again, letting go a little earlier this time.”
After a deep breath, I threw the next one. It landed a little closer, but still not on the board.
“You got this,” Ulrik cheered from a chair at the back of the lane.
I appreciated his encouragement, though I would have much preferred him to instruct me, coming in nice and close behind me to show me the proper way to throw.
“Here.”
I jumped, having forgotten the coach was still in our lane.
He passed me another ax to try. “This one is a little lighter. It’s just about finding the right one, and then you’ll hit the middle, no problem.”
I wish I shared his confidence. With each throw, my morale deflated. I didn’t believe I would get one on the board, let alone a bullseye. It took me ten tries to finally hit the board. Not in any of the rings to score any points but just below them on the right side.
With a sigh, I sat in one of the other chairs. “I need a break. Ulrik, you can go again.”
After Ulrik scored six points for another bullseye, the coach left us, having nothing more to teach my cabinmate and giving up on me.
The two of us took turns. We didn’t keep score.
Ulrik would have won anyway. I didn’t get any closer to the bullseye than the outer ring.
And that was only three occurrences in the entire hour and a half we spent there.
By the time we left, my arms and shoulders ached.
I worried whether I would be up to the rest of our plans for the day.
My muscles hurt simply grabbing the bar to pull myself into the truck passenger seat.
Ulrik rested his hands on the steering wheel. “Want to check out the snow sculptures we passed on our way here instead of heading right for tube sliding? We can grab lunch, too.”
I nodded, thankful for the slight change in plans.
I wasn’t sure if Ulrik experienced the same soreness as me, or if he could simply see my pain.
Regardless, I welcomed the change in plans.
There was no way anyone from my family would have modified their schedule to accommodate my discomfort.
I always had to modify my true self to appease them.