Chapter 3
Marissa
The Ozark Axe House smelled like sawdust and cheap beer, and I loved every second of it. Neon signs advertising Pabst Blue Ribbon cast a warm glow over the rough-hewn wooden walls, their light mixing with the old, out-of-fashion fixtures hanging from the exposed beam ceilings.
The place was packed for Valentine’s Day. Couples in flannel shirts and work boots lined up at the throwing lanes, cheering each other on between sips of cheap, watery beer.
My friend Jenna texted asking about my blind date, and I let her know that my date had gone A.W.O.L. but I was in good hands with Sawyer for the night. She texted something cryptic back about being on an adventure, and I was pretty sure that meant her night was looking up, just like mine was.
Then I slipped my phone in my pocket, hoping Kelly was having good luck tonight, too.
I watched as a woman I didn’t recognize sank her axe dead center into the target. She was wearing pink cowgirl boots and a matching hat, and she didn’t quite look like she fit here, but she was having a hell of a good time doing it. Good for her.
Her date, Dawson—someone I did recognize—whooped loud enough to turn heads when she scored her bullseye.
The thunk of metal hitting wood echoed through the space, punctuated by bursts of laughter and classic rock pumping through overhead speakers.
Someone had tacked a single paper heart on the wall next to the axe-throwing stations, and chucked an axe right in the center of it. It was a half-hearted nod to the holiday that somehow made the whole rugged vibe even more charming.
This was so much better than On The Rocks with its overpriced menu and bougie design vibe.
Sawyer handed me a cold can, his calloused fingers brushing mine in a way that sent heat rushing up my arm. I took a long sip to steady myself, letting the hoppy bitterness settle on my tongue while I tried not to stare at the way his flannel stretched across his broad shoulders.
“Have you thrown in a while?” he asked, nodding toward the lanes.
“Not since the last time we came here together.” I grimaced at the memory. “I almost took out a light fixture.”
He laughed, a deep rumble that I felt somewhere low in my belly. “Guess I’ll have to give you some pointers then.”
The way he said it, all low and easy, made my pulse kick up a notch.
He sauntered over to our throwing station, picked up an axe and threw it at the target without taking any time to aim.
A cheer went up from the crowd as Sawyer landed a bullseye. He’d always been an ace thrower. I swear that man could do anything. He was six feet of raging hot testosterone.
My panties went damp watching him. It was a common occurrence whenever he was around.
Sawyer gave me his sexy, patented smirk as he pulled the axe out of the target, waltzed it over to me and said, “Top that, girl.”
Our hands collided around the handle of the axe, a delightful shower of sparks erupting where we touched.
“Don’t be too cocky. I can always catch up,” I sassed back.
We both knew that wouldn’t happen. He’d be in the lead all night.
But despite Sawyer’s inevitable win, it was exhilarating being here on Valentine’s Day with my secret crush from a billion years ago, slinging axes so hard the wood on the target splintered.
Sawyer was exactly what I needed to put Brad in perspective.
Somehow Sawyer had gotten even sexier with age. When I’d been a little girl, I wouldn’t have believed that was possible. But now that he was a grown man, he was what me and my girlfriends called fucktastically hot.
And now that I was older, I wanted to do more than just write his last name in hearts in my journals.
‘Marissa Reed’ had been written in every one of my school journals approximately one thousand times. As if writing it could will the eventuality into existence.
But I’d given up on those thoughts years ago.
If Sawyer had any interest in me, he would have done something about it by now. I mean, I was thirty-two years old. No longer a young girl infatuated by her older brother’s best friend.
Our ship hadn’t just sailed. It had never left the dock.
None of that meant I couldn’t enjoy tonight, though.
I put the axe down and tugged my sweater over my head, dropping it on our table. Then I picked up the axe and swiveled on my feet. “Prepare to be crushed, Sawyer. This is the throw that will take you down.”
Trying yet another single-handed throw, I aimed, aimed, aimed, and missed.
Not just the bullseye. I’m talking about the whole target!
The axe thunked into the wall about three feet away from the hand-painted bullseye.
Sawyer couldn’t stop himself from laughing as he tugged it out of the wall. “Rissy, I think you need another lesson.”
“A lesson? That sounds good. Teach me how to embed this axe into my missing date’s chest.”
“Oh, no, ma’am. If things are that bad, I better take the axe away from you.”
I laughed and shook my head. “I’m not that bad off. It was just a joke. This was going to be our first time meeting in person. I can’t get too attached to a handful of phone calls and a chat session.”
He furrowed his brow, forgetting the crowded axe house around us. “Why were you crying over him, then? Isn’t that too soon to be in love?”
As if Sawyer only knew. He was the only man I’d ever thought I was in love with.
Looking up, up, up into his sexy brown eyes, my voice came out raspy, “I wasn’t crying over Brad. I was crying over what he represents.”
“And what’s that?”
“The dumpster fire known as my love life.”
Sawyer cocked his head, studying me intently, all his attention on me. “Ouch. I think I can relate to that.”
“You? Has some woman been stomping on your heart, Sawyer?” That was the remnants of the Timberline Twists still buzzing through my system. Otherwise, I never would have asked anything so bold.
His eyes raked across me, an unexpected storm of emotions visible in them.
In a low, sexy growl he said, “My heart’s been stomped enough times for me to know love isn’t in the cards for me. I don’t get to have the only woman I want.”
My breath caught in my throat hearing that. Sawyer had always been the unattainable one. And I’d compared every other man I met to him. They all came up lacking. To hear that he’d loved and lost made me feel like there was no hope for anyone.
What kind of woman would walk away from him?
But right now, in the crowded jostle of the Ozark Axe House, as our eyes landed on each other, a pulsing beat of recognition shot between us.
The rest of the people faded away, and it was just the two of us discovering each other for the first time.
Or at least, I hoped that’s what the look on his face meant.
Was it just me, or had the temperature gone up by ten degrees in the last two minutes?
With a husky growl he rumbled, “But I’ve got the best Valentine’s date on the mountain tonight. It’s my lucky day. Now come here and let me show you how it’s done, Marissa.”
He stepped towards me, closing the distance between us, and planted his hands on my hips. I almost had a heart attack on the spot. My pulse thrummed erratically, and I forgot to breathe for a minute.
Then he turned me around, positioning me to face the target, my right foot behind my left in a wide stance.
He shifted himself behind me, the heat from his body warming me up, and placed the axe in my hands.
Sawyer leaned in close and rumbled so only I could hear him. “You don’t need to imagine that guy’s face in the center of the target. It’s just you, me and the axe. We’re going to do this right, Rissy.”
He lifted my right arm and had me practice the movement before releasing the throw. “That’s it, loosen up.”
But it was hard to concentrate with his hand on my waist and the warmth of his breath on my neck.
My heart pounded up out of my chest, threatening to escape my body entirely as I inhaled the scent of him.
Sawyer always had the faint hint of mountain spice on him.
I had no idea what the fragrance was. I just knew it was intoxicating.
I’d never met anyone in my life who smelled like Sawyer before. I wanted to bury myself in his scent.
“All right, girl,” he rumbled smoothly, “on the third swing I want you to let the axe fly.”
He guided me through two more practice swings, and on the third, with all the power in my arm, I threw the axe as hard as I could.
It hit the bullseye with a satisfying thunk, and the whole axe house started cheering.
I had no idea we had an audience until I turned around and looked at everyone.
My face turned bright red, but that was mostly because Sawyer still had his hand on my hip, like it belonged there.
“Told you that you could do it,” he growled out.
I stared up at him, getting lost in the warm glow on his face. But then my heart stuttered, faltering even while I felt this rush of excitement.
Could he ever look at me as anything other than little Rissy? The little girl with perpetually skinned knees and braces on my teeth?
He cupped his hand against my lower back and guided me to our table, freeing our axe-throwing station for another couple while I felt myself getting lost in the magic of the night.
Even if nothing came out of it, which surely nothing would, it was still the best Valentine’s Day I’d ever had.