Page 65 of Axe Marks the Spot

“Yeah, of course, Logger Dane. Join us.”

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing in his strong throat. He adjusts subtly on his feet. Dane is studying me, gaze boring through to my soul. I read what he’s saying in his eyes: It’s up to you.

I soften my expression and dip my chin. What can it hurt? Kas obviously wants him here, and who am I to deny her?

“Alright, then,” he says. “I’ll join you.”

“Scoot over, Mom.”

I shake my head and do as she requests, scooting over so Dane can join me on my side. He stares at the spot then to a chair at a table next to us.

“It’s fine,” I offer. “There’s plenty of space.”

He eyes me to be sure before finally sliding in so we’re next to each other across from Kas. I’d misjudged how much space we’d have. He’s not a small man, and I’m not a small woman.

The heat of his body sets my skin ablaze, and our arms are touching. This isn’t the first time we’ve touched, but we’ve never been in a situation like this.

“Is this okay?” Dane asks.

I turn my torso so I can look at him easily. His smell invades my senses completely, overriding the fried smell of diner food. I softly inhale, his woodsy smell calming me for whatever reason. It’s probably not okay, but it doesn’t feel not okay. In fact, having him here next to me feels the very opposite of not okay.

I clear my throat. “Yes.”

Dane nods and turns to the bag in front of him, taking out his meal and the plastic utensils that came with it. There’s extra silverware in a basket near me, so I grab him a fork and knife.

“Here,” I say. “Might as well use the real ones.”

He reaches for them with a thanks, and I swear he purposely brushes my fingers when he takes them from me. It sends a zip down my arm like lightning, and if Kas wasn’t here, I think I’d throw myself at him like a rabid dog.

I pull my hand back and take a sip of my icy root beer, debating if I need therapy instead of a Dom. I swear that none of my reactions to him are normal.

“What is that?” Kas asks with a sour expression.

Her question makes me look at Dane’s food.

“It’s an egg-white omelet with chicken, spinach, and broccoli.”

“Ew, Logger Dane. Gross.”

Dane smiles softly at Kas, and my heart melts a little. “It’s good.”

“You’re lying.”

“Kas,” I say. “Don’t comment on other people’s food like that or accuse them of lying.”

“It’s okay, I know it doesn’t look appetizing,” he says. “But I like it.”

“I’m calling cap,” Kas adds, eating a fry.

“No cap,” he answers back easily.

She barks out a laugh, covering her mouth as she finishes chewing. “No, no, no, Logger Dane. It’s so Ohio when you try to use our slang.”

“I thought it was lit,” he adds, taking a bite of his food. Food that, to Kas’s credit, does look pretty gross.

She giggles again, and the sound is music to my ears. “Nooo, please stop!”

“Wait, what does Ohio mean?” I ask.