Annabelle waves me off. “Nah, you’ll figure it out. You’rebuiltfor this, Harris. Just a little rusty.”
Rusty. That’s putting it kindly.
I pick up the axe again, ignoring the ache in my arms and the growing frustration settling in my chest. Normally, I’d thrive in an environment like this—competition, adrenaline, all eyes on me. But right now, the only person I want to impress is the one blowing up my phone with texts.
Speaking of . . .
My phone buzzes. I pull it out and skim the new message from Lucy, the corner of my mouth lifting.
Lucy:
So this might seem random, but ...
Lucy:
I was wondering if you want to come to my place. Tonight, specifically.
I can barely believe my eyes!
Her invite settles deep in my chest, igniting something primal—something that makes me want to drop this axe right here and sprint to my car. My fingers hover over the keyboard, thoughts racing as fast as my pulse.
“Get this,” I tell Annabelle, knowing they’re friends and excited to have gossip to share. “Lucy invited me back to her place tonight.”
My boss’s brows shoot straight up into her hairline. “For real?”
I nod. “Yup.”
Cocky now, I swing the axe, suddenly mastering the skill of wood chopping, blade connectingperfectlywith the log, splitting it clean in half. I let out a triumphant “WHOOP!” of victory, standing taller. “Hell yeah!”
“Thank God.” Annabelle says with a chuckle, jotting something down on her clipboard before palming her phone and reading the screen. “If you’d missed again, I was going to have you stacking logs.”
She of little faith.
“Not today, Satan.” I toss the axe to the ground like I’m ready to retire undefeated. “I have a date tonight.”
“Maybe she’s your lucky charm,” she teases, leaning her clipboard against her hip. “I knew the two of you were texting but didn’t realize you were at the point where you were hanging out.”
“She was at my place last night,” I inform Annabelle with a satisfied grin. “We watched a movie.”
And fooled around.
Then I begged her to stay, and she turned me down, so I jerked off after cleaning up and climbing into bed.
“Let me get this straight—Lucy was at your place last night—and now she’s invited you to hers? What world am I living in right now?”
“Why are you saying it like that? In that tone?”
Annabelle shrugs. “There’s no tone. I’m just shocked! This is so unlike her.” She pauses to study my face. “Are you bringing her wine, flowers—or just showing up?”
“Probably wine?” Did I answer correctly? I feel like this is what she’s looking for—but I’ve had the invite to Lucy’s for all of five minutes, so Annabelle can climb down off my nut sack about hostess gifts. “Yes?”
“Yes.” She taps her pen to her lips. “And make sure it’s agoodbottle. Nothing with a screw cap, unless you want her thinking you picked it up from the gas station.”
“Noted—no screw cap.” I chuckle. “You should be my dating coach.”
She gives me a sly grin. “Trust me, you don’t need a coach.”
Aww. I’m flattered.
