I settled on a date Ella recommended after I called her for advice. Yeah, I phoned a friend. My history of wining and dining outside of a quick fuck isn’t stellar, and I want Miriam to have the best. Drinking and hurling axes never crossed my mind,but Miriam’s snorts trapped in giggles proves it was the perfect choice.
If Ella’s aim is anything like hers, Julian better rub her feet for the rest of eternity.
We’ve been at Hoppy Axe ’N Dents for a little over an hour. It isn’t too far from Steel House and has cages with wood chips on the floor and targets bearing the marks of axes thrown with abandon. The number of people skipping away with grins on their faces after going to work with single-handed weapons should raise some type of concern. Miriam’sXena: Warrior Princesssqueal terrified me.
Then there’s the full kitchen, and the bar, which had me in front of the manager to confirm that my lady wouldn’t be in harm’s way. Her becoming a hatchet-wielding assassin is one thing, but her getting a scratch or a splinter is another. We’re here for fun, but I’m not playing those kinds of games about her or her safety.
We joined another couple, which turned into a battle of the genders. Not my idea, by the way. Miriam is across from Jimmy, a bear of a man donning fully-tatted sleeves on both arms, a crew cut, and a dad bod. He’s twice her height and size, served three tours overseas, and is good with weapons—knives and hatchets included.
His score is impressive, but it’s nowhere close to the woman who barely reaches his chest in an oversized sweater, leggings, and high-tops.
Miriam eyes her target with calculated precision, her weapon of choice for the evening turning over in her soft hand. The slightest smirk appears before she raises the hatchet above her curly updo. Unlike Jimmy, she uses both hands. Her arms are close to her face when she sends it sailing through the air.
Bull’s-eye.
I’m off the metal barstool on the outside of the chain link fence. My phone is out recording her, which is quickly forgotten when I pump my fist in the air.
“That’s what’s up!” I shout, like Miriam didn’t hand me and Jimmy our asses.
Ask me if I care. The grin denting her dimples is worth losing every game.
She does her best to hide the blush that’s inching up her cheeks as the instructor and nearby groups applaud her. Our eyes meet, and the smile she gives just for me shifts something in my chest. It’s subtle, like her long exhale and the fire behind her eyes.
“How long have you two been together?”
My gaze swings from Miriam down to Sarah. She’s around the same age as Jimmy, her partner, and is his complete opposite. She’s in a button-down shirt tucked into loose-fitting jeans and Keds.
“About a week,” I say to her smirk under honey-colored bangs. “But we’ve been friends for three years.”
“You’re a beautiful couple. Remind me of myself and Jimmy in our early years.”
“She’s special.”
Her eyes sweep over Miriam’s friendship bracelets before swinging back to me. My hoodie is pushed up to my forearms, so mine are visible too.
There are enough women in my life that I can decipher the look Sarah is giving me. My mama and granny share the same stare when they’re waiting for me to catch on to something. It took a minute for me to admit my feelings, but there’s no lesson to learn here.
“Miriam is someone you spend every chance you get loving.”
“I speak from experience when I say the best love affairs come from friendships. It’s the perfect foundation for a love you never imagined,” Sarah says.
My smile grows. “That’s the plan.”
Miriam speed walks past Sarah, who meets Jimmy at the entrance to the cage. Her eyes are on me, her presence altering the rhythm of my heart, the way it always does. The draw to her is the same pull that stopped me in the hallway the first time I laid eyes on her.
“Can I get your autograph?” I swing her into a hug and kiss her grin. “Having a good time?”
She threads her arms through mine to grab my waist. “I think I missed my calling.”
“No shit,” I huff. “I’m hiding every knife in my house and yours when we get back. The can openers too.”
“Hush!” Her head tips back with a laugh that exposes the smooth column of her neck, and I pepper it with kisses. My mouth moves from her chin to peck her lips twice.
PDA has become a love language we speak whenever the mood strikes. Miriam still recites formulas under her breath when she gets anxious, but she’s more comfortable living outside of her shell.
She rests her chin on my chest. “Thank you for tonight.”
I kiss her dimple. “You never have to thank me. I love spending time with you.” I kiss the other one. “I love you.”
