Chapter 8

Trent

 

 

Reese Parker was hands down the most gorgeous, surprising, and smartest woman I’d ever met. Legs that seemed to go on forever kept diverting my attention from her face. During every red light on the drive to my surprise location, I had to force myself to focus on the road. Even making idle chitchat seemed to be difficult. Thankfully, the drive wasn’t too far and the music on the radio filled my quiet car.

When I turned the corner, our destination came into view. I glanced over at Reese. The bare trees mixed with the streetlights created dancing shadows on her face. Her hands nervously fidgeted with the strap of her purse.

“Hurlies?” The jovial lilt in her voice had me wondering if she’d been here before. “Is it closed?”

An honest question, considering there were only three cars in the parking lot including my own. The others I knew belonged to the owners and cook.

“Not exactly.” I turned my car’s engine off and hopped out to open her door, but she was already outside of it.

Technically, this was a date, and my hand went to reach for hers. Except, I didn’t want to force the issue, so I settled for placing my hand on her back to guide her to the front door. A sign on it read, CLOSED FOR PRIVATE PARTY.

Reese turned and looked at me. Keeping quiet, I pulled the door open and guided her inside. Old wood flooring sounded hollow beneath our shoes. Her eyes scanned our surroundings; wood tables without any patrons, a hearty oak bar sat in front of twenty empty stools, and classic rock playing over the speakers. Aside from Tommy, the bartender and owner, and his wife, Carrie, we were the only ones in the large room. Reese’s eyebrows drew together, causing a cute vertical line to form above the bridge of her nose.

Along with the chalkboard listing the beers on tap, a small bar menu, and a list of the teams who played in Hurlies’ axe throwing league, were banners and posters of local teams including the Rockets and Thunder. Then on the wall next to a jukebox, was a framed signed jersey that I had given Tommy when he opened the bar.

“Come on,” I once again, placed my hand on her back. Tommy smiled when we approached him. I shook his hand. “Hey, thanks for this.”

“Anything for my favorite player. Congrats on the win and being named MVP.” We fist bumped, and I could almost hear Reese’s eyes rolling.

“Thanks, man. This is Reese. Reese, this is Tommy. He owns this great place with his wife, Carrie.”

Reese held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Tommy shook her hand just as Carrie came out from the back door. “Well, well, if it isn’t Trent Archer.”

“Hey, Carrie.” I leaned in and kissed her cheek “Care, this is Reese. Reese, Carrie.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Carrie. Cool place.”

“Thank you. Well, it’s all yours tonight thanks to this guy.”

Reese pivoted and looked at me. “You rented this out for the night. Just for us?”

“Yes. I didn’t want us to be bothered. Especially while you had an axe in your hand. I know you have a foul temper.”

Not to mention I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t have throttled anyone who came on to her. In jeans, Reese Parker was gorgeous. In this short skirt and boots that were definitely made for a lot more than walking, she looked like every man’s dream.

Her scowl was most likely due to my temper comment, yet she didn’t refute it. “Fine, but just so you know, I’m a sweetheart around most people.”

Tommy chuckled behind us, and when I turned around, he was giving me the okay signal with his hand. Carrie gave an approving nod as well. Rolling my eyes, I walked over to one of the stalls. Reese studied the diagram on how to properly throw an axe without harming either yourself or someone else in the process.

“Have you ever done this before?”

She shook her head, picking up an axe with her right hand. “No.” Reese lifted the steel blade weapon a few times testing its weight. “It’s lighter than I thought.”

“It’s designed for throwing not splitting wood. Unless you already know that and are an axe wielding hustler.”

“Nope.” I narrowed my eyes and studied her. “What? I’m not. All I can say is, I wouldn’t stand too close.”

Her slighted tone would have had me feeling like a heel if she hadn’t hustled me during our pool game.

“Step aside, I’ll show you a few things.” Reese handed me the axe and moved off to the side. I stepped up to the line and glanced over my shoulder. Her right elbow rested on her left arm that was crossed over her chest, and she was nibbling on the side of her thumb staring at my backside in a trance-like state.

Smirking, I cleared my throat, and her eyes darted to mine. Busted. “It’ll be more beneficial if you watch my arms. Not that I mind you checking me out.”

She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and crossed her arms. “Please. I was looking at your stance.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

She let out an exasperated sigh as I lined up my body, faced the target, and began to explain the basics. With one foot forward, I raised the axe above my head, releasing it around eye-level, and watched it sail toward the target landing the blade dead center in the bullseye.

“Looks easy enough,” she said, walking up to me with an axe in her hand.

When I stepped forward to retrieve mine, I glanced back and warned, “Don’t throw yet.”

Reese shook her head. “Good-looking and funny.” Realizing the compliment that slipped from her mouth, she amended, “You know what I mean.”

“Yes, that you find me sexy.”

“I didn’t say sexy.”

I pulled the axe from the wooden board and walked toward her. Leaning close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin, I breathed into her ear. “It’s okay if you did, I find you extremely sexy.”

She took a step back leaving one foot on the line. Her skirt rose on her toned thighs. With a look of concentration, Reese lifted the axe, closed her eyes, and let go. The top of the blade hit the wood with a loud thud before landing on the concrete floor.

“Ugh.” Reese turned to look at where I was standing off to the side. “Can I try it again?”

“By all means.”

For the next twenty or so minutes, Reese monopolized the stall, hitting the wood a few times before the axe clanked on the floor, but never the target. “What am I doing wrong?”

Walking up behind her, I handed Reese an axe which she gripped with her right hand then placed her left beneath it. Reaching around her waist, I placed my right hand over hers, and kept my left hand on her hip.

With her back to my front, I stepped off to the left. Her perfectly shaped ass leaned against my thigh. “Don’t flick your wrist.” I kept my hand wrapped around her dainty one. “When you lift your arm, look at where your elbow is pointing.” I moved us back and forth letting her get the feel of the motion. “That should be the direction the axe goes. Let’s do it together, ready? When I say, ‘release,’ let go of the axe. Don’t hit me in the head.” She glanced back with worry in her eyes. “I’m kidding.”

“Okay.”

In one swift motion, I helped her raise the axe, leaning enough away not to get clocked with it, and with a fluid stroke, brought it forward. “Release.”

Our hands simultaneously left the rubber grip. We watched as the blade hit two rings south of the bullseye.

“I did it!” her squeal echoed. Reese turned, jumped up, wound her arms around my neck, and hugged me. Our height difference had me lifting her off the ground. Her joy made me just as happy. That’s when an odd feeling washed over me. I always wanted to be the one responsible for putting that beautiful smile on her face.

We looked at each other and it took Herculean strength to not kiss her. Reese placed one of her hands on my chest as I slowly slid her down my body, lowering her until her feet rested on the floor.

“Ready to try it again?” She nodded and broke our connection. Handing her an axe, I stepped to the side. “Okay, show me what you’ve got.”

Reese stepped up to the line, lifted the axe, then lowered it, and looked at me. “Thanks, Trent. This was a great first date.”

“Sweetheart, it isn’t over yet.”

She blushed and tossed the axe, hitting the middle of the target. I shook my head, laughed, and wondered if there was anything this woman couldn’t do. After her reaction the first time she’d hit the board, I didn’t think she had hustled me, but even if she had, I didn’t care because just a few minutes ago, I had Reese Parker in my arms.

***

Tommy dropped off three baskets of wings, small plates, an empty bowl, a pitcher of beer, and two frosty glasses. He walked away and we were once again alone. Reese’s eyes widened when she saw the saucy chicken. After telling her I had ordered mild, medium, and hot, she immediately went for the fiery ones, and I couldn’t help but smile.

She dug in and took a bite out of a drumette and moaned. “Wow.” Her tongue poked out and swiped her lips before bringing the morsel back to her mouth. Once it was clean, she tossed it into the bowl and grabbed another of the same type. When her eyes landed on mine, she paused mid-chew. “Aren’t you going to have any?”

I poured our beers and took a sip of mine before answering. “Yes, I am. Is there one you don’t prefer? Or I can order more hot ones if you’d like.”

“Thank you, but no. I’m afraid I’ll eat them all. Did you know that wings are my weakness?”

Laughing I picked one up and set it on my plate. “I didn’t. But good to know.” I shot her a wink and stripped the bone in one bite.

“Do you prefer the flats or legs?”

“I don’t like to discriminate. Legs… breasts… I like them all.” I waggled my brows. Not seeming to be one bit affected, I amended my reply. “I like the flats better. You?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Either is fine with me. Did you know the Buffalo chicken wing craze was created by accident?” When I shook my head, Reese nodded before taking another bite. “It’s true or at least that’s the story out of Buffalo.”

“Do you know stats about everything?”

Reese laughed and put her stripped wing into the bowl. After wiping her hands, she took a sip of her beer. “Technically, that isn’t a stat but rather a fun fact. But I do love stats. Some are so interesting. Most revolve around football, of course.”

“How did that come to be?”

“Well, when you grow up in a family like mine, football is a way of life. When I was little, all I wanted was to be with my granddad. We’d watch games, and I’d get so confused at the different plays and rules. Kenzie seemed to get it right away. I needed to think of a way to remember things. It’s like spelling. For example, desert versus dessert. I remember that dessert has two Ss because so does the word ass.” When I continued to stare, not understanding where her logic was going, she added, “If I eat a lot of dessert, my ass will get bigger.”

I let out a loud chuckle. “I never thought about it that way. For the record, I like your ass just fine.” Unsurprisingly, she rolled her eyes at me. But the blush that tinged her cheeks contradicted any animosity she may have toward me. “Okay, what else? Give me a football stat I don’t know.”

Taking her time to dip a wing into the little plastic cup of blue cheese dressing and taking a bite, she swallowed and nodded. “Did you know that Carlisle from the Gladiators completes more passes when the temperature is below sixty-two degrees? And his completion percentage goes up by seven percent if those games are played on artificial turf?”

“No, I didn’t know that.” I had to ask what I’d been wondering. “Do you have any fun facts about me?”

Her face took on a reddish hue. “Well, aside from the obvious, that you excel at home, in games where you win the coin toss, you have more passing yards than those when you lose the toss.” Huh. That was something I didn’t know. “Also, you have more passing yards on odd weeks. So, if I were the opposing defensive coordinator, I’d run a nickel defense more often than not.”

Clearly thinking she just handed me the holy grail and spilled the Thunder’s secret playbook, her eyes widened. Once again hearing her talk football had to be one of the biggest turn-ons. “Anything else?”

“Nope,” she quickly said, popping the P at the end. She leaned back in her chair and let out a breath. “I’m stuffed.”

I stood and offered her my hand, which she took, sending an odd sensation up my arm. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought I slammed my elbow on the table. It was that type of tingle. Her eyes connected with mine, and I wondered if she felt it too.

I wasn’t sure what was happening, but I knew she was responsible for it.