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“Girlfriend, huh?”
He doesn’t even try to hide how his face flames. Clearing his throat, he says, “If that’s okay.”
“Oh, yeah. More than okay.” I reach up to brush the wave of his hair, letting my hand travel down to hold his cheek. His lip’s been healing pretty well. I’ll be able to kiss him tonight. “I just have a simple question.”
“What’s that?”
“Why do you still have all your teeth?” I almost laugh at his bulging eyes. “Or, like, could we bust up your nose a little?”
Poor guy mustn’t know whether to laugh or run away. “The what?”
“It’s just—” I sigh dramatically. “Even with a busted lip, you look too perfect. I’m afraid I’ll have to carry my stick with me at all times to beat women off you.”
Max throws his head back and laughs.
“Are you jealous, Tinker Bell?”
Am I?
Yes, a little.
I shrug. “If the roles were reversed, wouldn’t you be jealous?”
“Oh, I’d be pissed.” That sobers him up. He brings me around until we’re face to face, both leaning against the bar. While he keeps his hand on my hip, the other one sneaks up my back and through my hair, only stopping when he finds bare skin. “I’ve been doing everything I can not to go full caveman on a guy who’s staring at you.”
“Hmm.” I circle my arms around his neck, which makes him bend down a little. “He’s not worth it. Let’s just keep our attention solely on each other tonight.”
“Sounds like a great plan.” The smile is back on his face, sending butterflies down my stomach. “I got us a couple of root beers.”
“You’re a genius.” I stand on my tiptoes and place a soft, quick kiss on his lips. “And to answer your previous question, I want to start with axe throwing.”
“After another kiss?”
And he pouts. Pouts!
“No.” With all my willpower, I pull away from him and grab my drink instead. “If I kiss you now, I won’t be able to stop. Can’t you see my struggle, man?”
He also grabs his bottle and falls into step beside me. “But what if I don’t want you to stop?”
“Stop giving me that cheeky look, Massimo. We came all the way here to enjoy the place. There’ll be time to enjoy each other later.”
Max chokes on his first sip of root beer, which must be painful. I leave him behind to get in line for the axe throwing room. When I glance back, he’s wiping his chin with the back of his hand, eyes trained on me as if I’m the reason he drooled. It’s sort of true, anyway.
I give him the same kind of smirk he gives me all the time. The kind that tests my patience. I know it’s having the same effect on him.
A good fifteen minutes later, one of the stalls clears up, and it’s our turn. An employee gives us a safety briefing that mostly consists of first, throw the axe forward and not back and second, don’t drop it on your foot.
Max whispers, “Almost feel like telling him we play with knives on our feet every day, and here we are.”
I throw the first axe, and it’s off center, but it wedged itself pretty nicely in the wood. After exchanging high fives, Max pushes his sleeves up his arms and grabs an axe. I enjoy the way his muscles flex. But I enjoy when his axe bounces off the wall and crashes to the floor even more.
“Looks like I’m gonna win this game, huh?”
“Tell me the truth. You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” His entire face scrunches up.
“Once. I didn’t suck that bad on my first try, though.” I blow a kiss at him. With my hip, I push him out of the way to throw my second axe. “Ohh, closer to the center.”
Max grunts. “Why’s my beginners luck not working?”
