Eng hadn’t given me the slightest hint of where we were going tonight. Knowing I’d be ridiculously overdressed for a dive bar, I took a chance and slid into a silky, white Grecian-style dress that highlighted the gold in my skin tone and clung in flattering folds to my athletic body. The skirt was mid-thigh, but I didn’t worry about a spare breeze causing a Marilyn Monroe moment. I’d worn my pretty lacy boy shorts that deserved to be seen, and I had absolute confidence in the smooth muscular tone of my thighs and rear end.
I was less sure about a potential nip-slip given my braless state, so I utilized some strategic boob-tape to prevent that sort of wardrobe malfunction. My inky hair was piled up into an argan-oiled smooth topknot that would do a ballerina proud, and I’d added a three-row, fake-pearl choker to draw attention away from my meager chest to the elegant column of my neck. Never the one for heavy makeup, I dusted a little smokey gray eyeshadow onto my lids, brushed a light coat of mascara on my eyelashes, and highlighted my prominent cheekbones with a bit of coral. My biggest genetic regret was that I hadn’t inherited mymother’s full lips, but I did my best to accentuate what I’d gotten from my Polish-descent father with glossy red.
Satisfied with the effect, I covered it all up with a long wool coat because the fall weather had decided to shift below freezing tonight. That might be mild for my northern-raised friends like Jordan, but it was damned chilly for me. Ah well. The heavy wool coat would give me a chance to dramatically reveal my amazing dress once we were inside whatever dollar-coffee dive Eng chose to take me to.
Then I went to Urban Axes on North Haven Street.
Eng was waiting outside. His dark eyes locked on me as I walked toward him, taking in my topknot of hair, my red lips, and the long wool coat. Then he stared at the three-inch strappy sandals on my feet.
“We are throwing axes,” he reminded me.
I put one hand on a hip. “Yeah?”
He pointed to my shoes.
“Bold of you to think I can’t throw an axe while wearing a dress and heels.”
His dark eyes heated. “I apologize for doubting you.”
“Apology accepted.” I brushed past him to the entrance, holding the door for him. The confusion and indecision on his face nearly made me laugh. Finally he took the door from me, motioned me to go ahead. The dark-skinned man with a freshly barbered high-and-tight at the counter eyed me appreciably, his eyes widening as he moved his gaze to Eng.
“You’re one of those hockey-team orcs!”
Eng glared at him. “I’m Eng, son of the Chieftan Mrong of Clan Waragur, prince of the Kingdom of Waragur.”
“Yes, he’s one of the hockey-team orcs,” I added, because this clerk clearly didn’t give a crap about Eng’s title.
The guy, newly impressed, assigned us our area and passed us a printed sheet with the rules, letting us know that we had thelane reserved for an hour. Eng and I went to the appropriately marked door, closing it behind us once we’d entered. At the end of a thirty-foot narrow room was a scarred wooden wall with a giant paper target. The floor had been marked with lines at various distances, and to the right of the door was a rack with a dozen axes on it.
Eng hefted one and scowled. “These are inferior weapons.”
“Because they’re for practice and fun, not actually killing monsters,” I informed him.
“Practice and fun still deserve implements without chipped, dull edges.”
I rolled my eyes. Then I took off my coat.
Eng’s attention abruptly shifted from the axe to my body. The weapon in his hand fell to the floor with a loud thud.
“And that’s probably why these axes have chipped and dull edges,” I informed him with a smirk.
“Unless you make a habit of coming here with other males, I very much doubt that is the reason for the poor condition of these weapons.” A muscle in his jaw twitched and he took a few steps toward me.
I moved as if I were going to walk into his arms, then skirted around him to pick up one of the axes and throw it at the wall. It wasn’t the easiest move in a dress and heels but I was happy that the blade sank into the wood instead of bouncing off it, even though I didn’t hit the target.
Eng grinned, grabbed the axe he’d dropped onto the ground, and flung it at the wall. Bullseye. Of course.
I huffed out a breath, taking better aim with my next throw and managing to hit the outer ring of the target. This time when Eng went to throw his axe, I lifted the hem of my skirt to reveal the lacy hem of my underwear.
The weapon bounced off the far edge of the wooden wall and clattered to the ground.
“That is not fair.” Eng’s guttural growl sent a bolt of heat down between my thighs.
“All is fair in love and war,” I told him as my next axe stuck just outside the target.
The hour went fast, filled with banter and teasing and…flirting. Eng won score-wise, but I was scoring in other ways. Witty repartee, and smoking-hot glances made the orc even more sexy. We left Urban Axes and took an Uber into Little Italy, and I felt myself falling desperately in love.
As we walked into Costiera’s, my heart stuttered. “How…you…I love this place,” I sputtered. “It’s my absolute favorite.”
