She gave me a tiny smile, her voice quiet and soft. “If you’d said that to me ten years ago, I might have married you on the spot, Sawyer.”
A warm glow settled between us while I waited for her answer.
Slipping back into Rissy’s life felt comfortable.Toocomfortable. It was probably why Matt had always guarded her from me. Even though I’d never admitted that she made my heart sing, he’d been smart enough that I’m sure he’d picked up on the truth along the way.
“You want to take me out tonight? I’ll let you.”
It wasn’t arealdate. It couldn’t be. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the hell out of spending some time with this girl.
Matt and I used to go to the axe house all the time, and of course, Marissa used to tag along and watch us. I’d even taught her how to throw an axe when she got old enough to hold one up. But she’d never been good at it.
It would feel like old time’s sake, minus the ever-present chaperone cock-blocking me from this fine woman.
She got to her feet, swiped at her eyes one more time, and let me guide her out of the bar with my hand snugged against her back.
Was I making a mistake? Fuck yeah, I was.
Spending an evening with Marissa could lead to all the wrong decisions. I didn’t want to betray my best friend by taking his little sister out… but I couldn’t leave her here crying by herself either. My heart wouldn’t let me.
Sorry, Matt.
Chapter 3
Marissa
The Ozark Axe House smelled like sawdust and cheap beer, and I loved every second of it. Neon signs advertising Pabst Blue Ribbon cast a warm glow over the rough-hewn wooden walls, their light mixing with the old, out-of-fashion fixtures hanging from the exposed beam ceilings.
The place was packed for Valentine’s Day. Couples in flannel shirts and work boots lined up at the throwing lanes, cheering each other on between sips of cheap, watery beer.
My friend Jenna texted asking about my blind date, and I let her know that my date had gone A.W.O.L. but I was in good hands with Sawyer for the night. She texted something cryptic back about being on an adventure, and I was pretty sure that meant her night was looking up, just like mine was.
Then I slipped my phone in my pocket, hoping Kelly was having good luck tonight, too.
I watched as a woman I didn’t recognize sank her axe dead center into the target. She was wearing pink cowgirl boots and amatching hat, and she didn’t quite look like she fit here, but she was having a hell of a good time doing it. Good for her.
Her date, Dawson—someone Ididrecognize—whooped loud enough to turn heads when she scored her bullseye.
The thunk of metal hitting wood echoed through the space, punctuated by bursts of laughter and classic rock pumping through overhead speakers.
Someone had tacked a single paper heart on the wall next to the axe-throwing stations, and chucked an axe right in the center of it. It was a half-hearted nod to the holiday that somehow made the whole rugged vibe even more charming.
This was so much better than On The Rocks with its overpriced menu and bougie design vibe.
Sawyer handed me a cold can, his calloused fingers brushing mine in a way that sent heat rushing up my arm. I took a long sip to steady myself, letting the hoppy bitterness settle on my tongue while I tried not to stare at the way his flannel stretched across his broad shoulders.
“Have you thrown in a while?” he asked, nodding toward the lanes.
“Not since the last time we came here together.” I grimaced at the memory. “I almost took out a light fixture.”
He laughed, a deep rumble that I felt somewhere low in my belly. “Guess I’ll have to give you some pointers then.”
The way he said it, all low and easy, made my pulse kick up a notch.
He sauntered over to our throwing station, picked up an axe and threw it at the target without taking any time to aim.
A cheer went up from the crowd as Sawyer landed a bullseye. He’d always been an ace thrower. I swear that man could do anything. He was six feet of raging hot testosterone.
My panties went damp watching him. It was a common occurrence whenever he was around.
