Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
ZOE
After dinner, they piled into Zach’s truck and rumbled across town, pulling up to what looked like an old horse barn turned new business venture: axe throwing.
Along the way, Zoe couldn’t stop replaying the way Jackson’s hand had rested on her thigh under the table during dinner.
Every time they got within arm’s reach lately, the air felt electrified.
Now, tucked into the backseat of Zach’s truck, her knees brushed Jackson’s with every turn. He didn’t move away. Instead, he rested his arm casually across the backseat, his fingers just close enough that she could feel the warmth of him even without touching.
Outside the window, Maple Falls glowed under the soft blush of evening.
They passed the bookstore with its striped awning and handwritten Spring Sale!
sign, the windows of the Pumpkin Pie Bakery still fogged from a day of baking.
Strings of lights twinkled along the square where a few couples lingered on benches with ice cream cones.
Farther out, the road wound past the lake, the water glinting silver under the first stretch of stars.
Madison chatted from the passenger seat about Kit’s panna cotta and how she was definitely stealing the recipe for her next “Maple Falls Living” feature. But Zoe barely heard them. She was too busy sneaking glances at Jackson in the reflection of the window.
The passing streetlights illuminated Jackson’s strong jaw and that quiet confidence that always made him look like he could fix anything, handle anything. Even throwing an axe, apparently.
She already knew, without a doubt, he was going to look infuriatingly sexy doing it.
By the time they pulled up to the old horse barn at the edge of town, her heartbeat was out of control.
The place glowed under string lights that zig-zagged across the rafters, laughter and the faint thud of wood-on-wood spilling out into the night.
Inside, the wide central aisle had been transformed into throwing lanes, with wooden targets mounted along the walls.
The smell of sawdust hung thick in the air, mixing with the damp scent of spring rain that had fallen off and on all day.
Zoe exhaled a nervous laugh. “Okay, in my defense, I’ve never done this before. If I lose an arm or a finger, it’s not my fault.”
Madison grinned. “You’re in good hands. Jackson looks like he’s been training for this his entire life.”
Zoe shot her a look, but when Jackson rolled up his sleeves to expose strong forearms and the faint line of ink that disappeared beneath the fabric, she couldn’t argue.
After Gerald, the owner, gave them a rapid-fire tutorial and set out three different axes, they split into teams. Zoe eyed the options, already forgetting which one Gerald had said was the best for beginners.
“Have you done this before?” she asked, hovering uncertainly.
“Something like it,” Jackson said, his tone low and amused.
Zoe arched a brow. “That’s not comforting.”
He smiled, slow and deliberate. “Relax. I’ve got you.”
He stepped behind her, close enough for her to feel the heat of him, the rough brush of his sleeve against her arm. “Try this one,” he murmured, handing her the smallest axe. “Just feel the weight first.”
Zoe’s breath caught as his fingers grazed hers. He felt steady, sure, and far too gentle for a man who could probably hit a bullseye blindfolded.
“See?” Madison called, watching them with a grin. “You two have so much chemistry, I can practically see the sparks. Some of us are trying to focus, you know.”
Zoe tried to laugh, but her voice came out softer than she intended. “Well, you have to admit…” Her eyes flicked toward Jackson, who was lining up his throw, concentration etched in every movement. “… He is unfairly hot.”
The axe spun through the air, hit the target with a solid thunk, and stuck dead center.
Jackson glanced over his shoulder with a grin that sent heat rushing through her chest. “You think so, huh?”
“Clearly,” Zoe teased back, letting her eyes roam over his body without hiding it. She loved this fearless version of herself. The one that got to admit her deepest thoughts out loud.
“Your turn,” Jackson said after freeing his axe from the plywood.
Zoe looked down at the axe in her hand, doubt gnawing at her confidence. “Alright, Mr. Bull’s-eye. What’s the secret? Brute strength or divine intervention?”
“Neither,” he said, stepping beside her. His voice dropped low, the sound wrapping around her like an embrace. “It’s all about control.”
Her breath hitched as his hands brushed her waist, adjusting her stance. “Feet apart. Shoulders square. And don’t hold your breath. Exhale when you throw.”
Zoe took a chance, trying to mimic his motion. Her axe clattered to the floor, not even coming close to sticking. Heat flared in her cheeks.
Jackson retrieved it with a smile. “Not bad. You’re close. You just need a little more power. Step into it next time.”
His demonstration was sleek, strong, almost effortless, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he released the axe. It buried itself in the target with a sharp crack.
Zoe didn’t even try to hide her admiration. “Maybe you should just play for both of us.”
“Hey, none of that,” Madison cut in, scanning the room looking for a station to sharpen her axe. “We’re playing couples fair and square.”
Which would have been fine if Zoe didn’t throw like she’d never lifted anything heavier than a bouquet.
Jackson raised his voice just enough to carry over the din. “You’ll get it, Flower Girl. Just trust me.”
Something about the way he believed in her without hesitation made her chest tighten. For a second, she really did believe she could do anything.
Her axe flew. It spun once, twice, and then SMACK! It stuck in the second ring.
Zoe gasped. “Oh my God, I actually hit it!”
Jackson’s grin widened. “That’s my girl.”
The game continued, back and forth, with Jackson and Zoe trading spaces with Madison and Zach for the lead.
“It all comes down to this final throw, you realize that, right?” Zoe said after doing a bit of mental math.
Zach and Madison were off to the side, wrapped up in their own world, laughing and sneaking kisses.
Jackson’s eyes were focused on Zoe. “Listen to me. Bend your elbows, throw your weight forward. And pretend the target is… I don’t know… an industrial waste plant trying to expand into a nature reserve.”
Zoe gasped.
“Yes, that’s it. Take that emotion and go with it,” Jackson continued.
“Those jerks!”
Zoe gripped the axe.
“Don’t overthink it. Aim, and let it go.”
Her arm swung, muscles burning with adrenaline. The axe spun down the lane, wood cracking as it buried itself dead center.
Bull’s-eye.
The world went quiet. Zoe stared, hardly believing it was real. Then cheers erupted behind her. She spun toward Jackson, and the sheer joy lighting his eyes took her breath away. It was so uncharacteristic, so unguarded that it made her heart surge with pride. She didn’t think, she just moved.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, and before she could stop herself, her lips found his. At first, it was quick and impulsive, meant as a congratulatory kiss. But the second Jackson’s hands locked on her waist, holding her close, everything slowed until it was just the two of them.
His tongue swept into her mouth, coaxing her closer as her chest pressed against his. This kiss wasn’t tentative like the first or stolen like the second. It was deeper, surer, a question and an answer all at once.
She caught his bottom lip between her teeth, playful and aching, and his fingers slid beneath the hem of her shirt, grazing the bare skin at the small of her back, keeping her there.
The contact sent heat rushing through her.
Almost without thinking, her hands slid down from his shoulders, over the solid plane of his chest, tracing the line of muscle she’d only ever imagined before.
She’d never touched him like this, not out in the open, not with the excuse of celebration humming through her blood. Her palm flattened against his rib cage, feeling the quick, hard thud of his heart under her fingertips, and the sound around them dropped away.
Someone whooped behind them, but Zoe barely heard it. The world had narrowed to the press of his body, the taste of his mouth, the pulse racing in her veins.
When she finally pulled back, dizzy and breathless, Jackson’s hand was still firm at her hip. His voice was low, rough around the edges. “Guess we won.”
She smiled, still catching her breath. “Yeah. Looks like we did.”
But as their eyes held, neither of them moved. The air between them buzzed. Thick with the promise of what was yet to come.