Page 52 of Axe Marks the Spot

I’ll give you ten minutes to decide.

I know right away that I don’t need ten minutes. I do feel guilty for not responding sooner, but that seems silly now. Because if I imagine never getting a message from him again, never speaking to him again, or simply awkwardly staring at him from afar when I see him every Friday then maybe sporadically in town, it feels…wrong. Like I’d be giving up something good, something important.

I type out my message and hit send before I can fully think it through.

Me

You’re impatient, Sir.

I nibble on the inside of my cheek, analyzing why I chose to say that instead of apologizing. The bubbles pop up, and his answer comes through without pause.

Sir

Is that what you wanted to say to me, or would you like to try again?

I sit up on the couch as if he’s here beside me or watching me through the window. In a way, I thought I was being cheeky, but now, I want to please him, and he hardly said anything at all.

Me

I’d like to try again.

Sir

Please do, Lindsey.

Me

Can I call you in five minutes, Sir? I’d like to talk to you.

Sir

If you promise to be on your best behavior for me.

I itch to say I can try, but I know that will only make things worse for me. Maybe he’s right; maybe I do want to get in trouble. But again, I ask myself why. I’ve never liked being in trouble before.

I shake that thought away.

Me

I promise, Sir.

Sir

Very well. My clock is set for five minutes.

I sit up from the couch, grab my wine, and run up the steps to my room, fluffing my pillows and sitting on the bed, placing my glass on my side table and grabbing my earbuds so our conversation will be private. I left the door open a crack, but it’s mostly closed to muffle any sounds of my voice. Not that Kas will hear with her headphones on.

With less than a minute left, I hit the call button, finding out too late I hit the video chat. When my Sir’s, Dane’s, face fills the screen, I’m shocked for a moment before I realize there’s no reason to hide now. We’ve met. We know what the other looks like. The walls are gone, and it’s just us now.

It should be impossible for a man like him to get more beautiful, especially when looking at him via a screen, but somehow, he manages it. Unlike last time, where he had a plain black background, he hasn’t hidden his surroundings.

He’s outside, from the looks of the back of an Adirondack chair in a deep green. The July sun won’t go down completely for another hour, but the golden light of the impending sunset only makes him look like some lumberjack god, lighting the planes of his sharp features and black-and-silver hair that’s trimmed tight at the sides and styled on top.

“Lindsey.” His voice rumbles. “Thank you for being on time.”

“Hi, Dane. Thank you for giving me another chance.”

He cocks an eyebrow, the corner of his lip curling up. “I was feeling lenient.”