Page 106 of One Last Chance

“Listen. I remember you throwing as a kid. Jude’s competing. I thought you’d want to get your name back up on the wall in the VFW.”

“Not today, Ox. But thanks.”

The man made to walk away, but she couldn’t stop herself. “That’s an . . . unusual tattoo.”

Ox lifted his arm. “Stupid impulse as an eighteen-year-old. You’d think I would have thought ahead fifty years to sixty-eight-year-old me. But no. Used to play for the Silver City Wolverines. We won the state championship, and we all got tats. Or some of us. Not my smartest move.” He looked at Axel before walking away.

“What’s going on?”

“That tat,” she said quietly. “That was in my sister’s journal.”

Axel stared at her.

“C’mon,” she said. “Let’s get our fries and follow him.”

“Follow . . . What?”

She looked at him and grinned. “Ever been on a stakeout?”

* * *

Maybe he should have done a little axe throwing. It might have helped Axel feel less like he was walking around naked, his heart on the outside of his body.

What had he been thinking?Inside, I’m just that guy in the river, frantic to find my cousin. Searching, I guess.

Could he be any more of a pansy?

No wonder Flynn hadn’t answered him when he’d suggested—he could hardly believe the words had come out of his mouth. But she had just sat there listening, those beautiful green eyes fixed on his, holding his hand and . . .

Aw, what an idiot. She’d been here less than a full week, five days since he’d met her, and already he’d thrown out his heart to her, asked her to stay . . .

Even he’d be running.

Except she hadn’t run, just . . . not answered. But she had gripped his hand and dragged him along with her as she followed Ox Remington around the festival.

They’d started at the axe-throwing contest, and Axel had watched Jude win, glad-handed him afterward, then caught up to Flynn, who’d stood looking at some mittens while she watched Ox stop at the real estate office in town and stare at a few postings in the window.

“What’s he doing?” he’d said into her ear, and she’d nearly jumped through her skin.

“I don’t know. Looking at land?”

Then he’d left and they’d looked at land too while Ox went into Ace’s Hardware.

He’d come out with Ace, and they’d headed down the street, toward the music.

“You do know that my dad will recognize me and wonder what I’m doing skulking around town,” he’d said as they’d wandered toward the tent. Flynn had stopped at a pottery vendor and picked up a bowl. Brown with swirls of turquoise and gold. A Bible verse was printed on the rim—Proverbs 3:5 and 6, about trusting God.

The woman in the tent had stood up. “There’s a fish symbol on the bottom. It’s my signature.” She had dark hair, and a baby lay in a sling fitted to her.

“You’re the potter?” asked Axel.

“Yes. We’re traveling the country this summer, attending festivals,” she said. She wore a printed skirt, a turquoise necklace. Had a bit of a free spirit about her. “Also held a workshop at a nearby art colony.”

A man in the booth had packaged up an order and handed it to a customer, along with a card.

“Do you attend every year?” Flynn had asked as she put down the bowl.

“This is our first year,” the man had said. He’d handed her a card, and she’d tucked it into her pocket.

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