Much to my smug satisfaction, I’ve spotted Dale the Douchecanoe throw at least one ax that didn’t evenreachthe target. It landed with a sad whimper on the grass about three-quarters of the required distance to actually make contact.
“Too many years spent splitting firewood.” He shrugs while returning with the ax and extends the handle toward me.
“Oh… I’m going to ruin everything.” I shake my head. “All your excellent work to put us in the lead is about to get erased by my pathetic efforts.” Wincing, I glance over my shoulder at the scoreboard.
“C’mon, sugar.” He winks at me. The smoothest of moves, perfectly timed just as a couple of sets of eyes get extra nosy and look our way. “I’ll help you get your aim in.”
With a not-so-subtle groan, because this is definitely going to be embarrassing, I step up to the line from where I need to hurl the small, but weighty ax. Reid is right there, stepping up behind me, bringing our bodies flush together in a way that makes me gasp.
The heat of him covers my spine, and seeps through as if all our winter layers don’t even exist. He’s so broad and tall compared to me, his long arms reach around to gather me up in an enveloping embrace, and my knees immediately threaten to buckle. The scent of him weaves a path straight to my brain, the butterflies in my belly, and the spot between my legs where I can’t help but squeeze my thighs together to alleviate the ache building there.
“Put your hands like this.” His lips brush against the tip of my ear as he bends slightly to curl over the top of my figure. “Stack them on the handle so you’ve got leverage and strength when you throw.” Those massive hands of his wrap over the top of my own, and he guides me to wrap my palms around the base of the ax.
I’m surely going to levitate straight up into the night sky. Having his arms around me like this feels like the wickedest of temptations, curling a finger while tricking me into thinking this is anything but a game of pretend.
“Th—thanks.” Forming words is damn near impossible.
His hands remain right where they are, curled around mine, and that’s when I feel it. Reid allows his nose to brush against my temple as he takes a deep inhale. Something warm pools low in my belly in response to that lingering proximity.
“Your ex is watching you like a hawk.” His voice is gravelly, low. An edge to it that wasn’t there before. “I think he needs a little reminder that you’re nothis.”
Oh. Right. He’s doing this—staying wrapped around me so tightly—because of the deal we made.
With a quick swallow and threatening the butterflies in my stomach to chill the fuck out because this is allfake, I nod. “Okay. Thanks. I think I got it.”
Reid steps back slowly, but he stays perilously close to the spot where I’m lifting the ax above my head and readying to hurl it forward. Just as I’m about to tense my muscles, he clears his throat.
“Imagine it’s the fucker’s face in the middle of that target.”
That makes me grin ever so slightly. All the motivation I need. With a heave, I fling it in the direction of the target, and nearly shriek when I see it not only fly the required distance, but actually land on the wooden board, too.
I mean, not anywhere near as precise as Reid’s efforts, but I managed to get somewhere inside the inner third of the painted rings on the first try.
“Holy shit.” Turning to face him, my mouth hangs open. “I honestly thought…”
“Never doubted you for a second.” His grin is a little boyish, and he steps toward me, hooking a finger beneath my chin to tilt my gaze up to meet his. It’s a move so damn potent, it leaves my entire body tingling just from that point of contact.
My heart does a skip and a twirl, and I start to float a few inches off the ground. Mia Aspen. Do not for one second readinto the fact that this cowboy has easily spent so much of his evening with you and not once dropped the act.
He lets his eyes roam back and forth across my face for a long moment, enough time for me to drink in his handsomeness and get lost in the feel of him right there, staring down at me. It feels too easy to imagine a scenario where this isn’t pretend, and where he might actually stoop down to kiss me.
God, I want him to kiss me.
Something passes across Reid’s features that I can’t interpret, but he gives me another heart-stopping look, then tilts his head in the direction of the target.
“Better channel that rage again.” He steps back, and I immediately want to protest. “This time, put that ax straight through his skull.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Keri:
Any updates?
Or are you too busy getting your back blown out over the hood of his pickup?
Me:
God. What kind of sex-starved banshee do you think I am?
