Page 39 of Extreme Romancing in Idaho

“Don’t blame me. This whole situation was caused by you. I mean, you closed your eyes before you threw the axe.” He gestured toward me with open palms, his fingers spread wide.

I shoved my axe into its holder and pointed my finger at him. “You’re the one who set this whole night up. So, yeah, I might have thrown the axe and stuck it to the beam, but I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you … and Daniel’s going to be here in forty-five minutes. I still have no idea how to throw the axe down the lane, let alone hit the target.” The longer I spoke the more animated I’d gotten. The worker behind the cash register had been walking toward us but then changed his mind and went back to his post—probably to call his manager.

Great. Now, they’d kick me out before my date had the chance to walk in the front door.

“Calm down.” Remi held his hands in front of him like he surrendered. He stalked to his axe where it was still stuck in the bullseye and pulled it out in one decisive tug. The cords on his forearm remained tense the entire way back to my side. “I told you we should have done this two days ago.”

“I didn’t have time for that.” Between work and farming, I barely scheduled enough time to eat and sleep.

Remi’s breath hissed through his teeth, his upper body tense and rigid. “Stop arguing with me and get on the throw line.”

I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him and stepped to the spot he indicated. My shoulders sagged, and I kept my mouth shut. There was no way he’d be able to make me proficient at this in time. I’d accepted I was going to make a fool of myself.

“We’re going to try something different.” Remi tucked his axe into his belt holder and came to my side. “Grab your axe.”

“I don’t see the point.” Who was I kidding? My hands still shook from the last time I tried throwing the blasted thing.

“Just—” He reached around me and snagged the instrument of torture hanging at my waist and held the wooden handle to me. “Trust me.”

Skeptical this would go any better than last time, I took the axe with my right hand.

Remi stepped behind me. “Hold it with both hands.” His voice tickled my left ear. Chills raced along the side of my body, chasing away the remnants of my frustration. “Forget about everything. Your stress. Worries. They don’t exist here.” He softly gripped my forearms and lifted the axe above my head, his fingers running along my arms until their warm tips rested on my wrists. The heat from his body ebbed into the back of mine. “Focus on the target. Don’t release your hold on the axe too soon or too late. Channel your frustrations at the center of that target. Take a deep breath. And throw.”

His hands fell away from mine. I took a deep breath. The center of the target was Papa’s cancer diagnosis, medical bills, and declining health. It was the countless hours it took me to maintain the farm. My lost sleep. The hours I spent at work trying to get the money to support my legacy. It was all my loss. My debilitating responsibilities. My pain.

And it deserved to be decimated.

I released my breath, steadied myself, and catapulted the axe at the wood panels. The blade buried into the dampened pine with a satisfying thunk.

My chest heaved up and down as if I’d run a mile. I didn’t look at Remi, reveling instead in the victory of success.

“Yes!” Remi grabbed my shoulders and shook them. “You did it!”

I looked over my shoulder at him, and I couldn’t stop the warmth generated by his praise from spreading through me. Remi whooped and did an overexaggerated fist pump, turning my smile into laughter. He came to my side, and, as if he’d been born with the axe in his hand, he threw it and hit the little blue dot on the upper left of the board.

We did this a few more times. Remi giving me tips when I missed, but by the time Daniel was set to arrive, I was throwing at a seventy-five percent success rate.

Nervous energy took hold of me. What if Dan rejected me? What if he liked how I looked with a few more pounds on my body?

As if reading my thoughts, Remi caught my hand and squeezed my fingers. “You’ll be fine. Keep doing the double-handed throw, and you’ll impress the hell out of him.”

What he didn’t know was throwing the axe was the least of my worries.

“Remember, I’ll be in the lane right behind you, listening—”

“Oh, right.” I yanked my AirPods free of my black, fringed purse, and tucked one into my ear, then let my long hair hide it from view.

Remi put in his own earbuds, then started scrolling through his phone. Mine buzzed from somewhere inside my purse. I tapped on my Airpod and answered.

“Can you hear me?” His real voice echoed in the ear without the mini-speaker in it, while also reverberating through the earpiece.

“Loud and clear.”

At least I’d get through this night with the comfort and support of Remi.

Chapter 15

Angie

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