29. Axe Throwing
Axe Throwing
It takes the whole week to plan everything to perfection. A week of avoiding deep conversations with Grandma and Hazel during magic lessons. A week of keeping my mouth shut every time I’m around Ash, even though I’m so excited I’m threatening to burst.
A week of Belle begging me to spend the night at Ash’s every single night. The spoiled princess.
It’s all worth it when I drive up to Ash’s house and he’s waiting for me in the doorway on Christmas Eve. Wrapped up in some flannel faux-wool-lined jacket thing, hair a little bit longer than usual and perfect for tugging.
“There she is,” he says as I step out of the car. “My woman with her mystery plans. Do I get to know the surprise yet?”
He’s asked me that every single day for the past week—ever since I told him to keep Christmas Eve night open.
“No. I’m not ruining the surprise after keeping you successfully in the dark for a week. Don’t be silly!”
He eyes my car, planting his feet just a little firmer. “I’m not trying to fit in that little Prius, Goldilocks. So, you’re going to have to tell me where we’re going.”
I cock my hip, resting my hand on my side. “Or you can let me drive your truck and actually surprise you like I planned.”
He seems to debate the idea as he stalks toward his truck, eyes on me the entire time. “No one has ever driven my truck but me. Not even my dad.”
I roll my eyes. Boys and their toys.
“Luckily for you, I’m happy to be your passenger princess. Let’s get it!” He tosses the keys to me and by some miracle I catch them before they slap me in the face.
The drive isn’t long, but I may have overestimated my ability to drive this thing. It’s a behemoth and I swear I can barely see over the steering wheel.
It keeps me quiet, focused, as Ash plays Hozier and Noah Kahan for us.
“Axe throwing?” He finally sees the giant neon sign on the brick building as we pull into the parking lot. “I should probably be offended, but this looks fucking fun.”
“This is part one of our evening,” I explain, doing the worst parking job of my life. “Because you need more fun. You deserve to drink a couple beers, throw some axes, and spend time just relaxing with your brain turned off.”
Ash presses his lips to mine, pulling me closer with a strong hand on my neck. The angle is strange, all cramped in his truck, but the way he’s kissing me is so overwhelmingly good that I don’t feel the strain in my back.
“No one,” he says before diving in for another quick kiss. “No one has ever planned an evening like this for me.”
The emotion in his voice is validating and terrifying all at once. I did all this because I care about him, because I want him to feel seen and appreciated.
That doesn’t mean I’m ready for the gratitude for doing it right.
“Well, we won’t get to enjoy it if we spend all night kissing in the car and miss our reservation. So come on!”
I hop—quite literally—out of the truck and make my way toward the front door of the bar. Ash catches up quickly, lacing his fingers with mine and squeezing.
I’m so fucking gone for him.
The bar itself is rustic, and almost reminds me of his home in a way. It’s not a log cabin, but the walls are wood paneling. The lighting is dark, moody, except for the axe throwing lanes which are well lit. It’s very Ash.
“Good evening, may I help you?” A man of small stature asks from his podium next to the front door.
“Yes, reservation under Laura Hollis,” I say. “For seven thirty.”
He types on his tablet, searching away as Ash’s body wraps around mine from behind. It’s like the man can’t stand to not touch me for longer than a few seconds.
“Gotcha. Your table is this way,” the man says, gesturing for us to follow him to a dark red leather booth. “You reserved a private lane for throwing, so it’s yours for the next hour. Your waiter will be by shortly to get your drinks and dinner order.”
Instead of sliding into the booth across from me, Ash scoots in close on my side. “Want to see who gets a better score out of ten throws?”
My competitive side flares to life despite knowing Ash literally works with axes every fucking day. “Bet.”
“Terms?”
“Depends.” I lean back to meet his gaze. “What do you want if you win?”
“You. Naked in my bed for forty-eight hours.”
My body involuntarily trembles at the thought. “Agreed. And if I win, you have to go shopping with me, let me pick out some things for you, and then take me home and keep me naked in your bed for twenty-four hours instead of forty-eight.”
His eyes fill with desire. “Bet.”
The wood is smooth, soft as I lift the axe above my head. I calm and center myself to make the perfect bullseye.
Despite Ash’s unending shit-talking, I’m only a few points behind. Enough that I need a bullseye, but that’s doable.
I can beat him.
“Don’t fuck it up,” Ash says right as I’m about to throw.
I stop myself at the last second, glaring at him. “That’s a cheap trick.”
“All’s fair in love and war.”
I nod, purely because I know I would do the exact same thing to secure my victory. And that I may have done exactly that when I adjusted my cleavage while he was throwing earlier.
I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. I got this. I let the axe fly and don’t open my eyes until I hear the satisfying thwack of the axe imbedding itself in the wall.
Bullseye.
“You win, Goldilocks,” he purrs in my ear. Electric sparks zoom down my arms as he strokes my skin. “Guess we’re going shopping.”
“Don’t worry, that won’t be happening tonight.” I turn to face him. “Now, let’s eat some dinner and get going to part two of the evening.”
“Your wish is my command.”