Page 33 of Don't Call Me Sweetheart

“Glad you asked.” Luke grinned. “We’re here to help.”

“Oh,” I said dryly. “Yay.”

Eli burst into laughter. “No, seriously. This date is a big deal for Kate, and Emma figured you could use some help making it a good one.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got it under control.”

“Yeah?” Luke drawled. He crossed his arms. “Let me guess. Dinner and a movie?”

“A movie she’s already seen, with Emma,” Eli cut in helpfully. “Because there are only two movies playing at the Hart’s Ridge theater right now, one of them being a military flick where soldiers get blown up. And we know you’re not dumb enough to take her to that.”

I swore softly. Eli laughed again.

“Fine,” I said. “I’m open to suggestions.”

“Good,” Eli said. “Because we have some.”

“Such as?”

“Such as axe throwing.”

I looked to Luke for confirmation. “Axe throwing,” I repeated.

“It’s a good time,” Luke said. “Very popular with women around here, for some reason. Lots of bridal showers happen at Kiss Our Axes. Have a couple drinks, play with sharp weapons.”

“Sounds like a good way to lose an eye,” I muttered.

“Sure, if you’re a killjoy high school principal. But Kate is not a killjoy, and she happened to be a competitive archer once upon a time, so it’s safe to say that throwing sharp things at a bull’s-eye is right up her alley.”

“And if you piss her off, she has an axe right there,” Eli added. Helpfully.

I treated him to a baleful stare over the rim of my bottle before taking a pull of beer.

But a shiver of anticipation coursed through me. Dinner and a movie was the safe choice, but it also meant spending two hours sitting in a dark room with Kate. Silently. And while the dark room aspect certainly had an appeal, we weren’t at the point of our relationship where I could do something about it. We were at the point of sweaty palms and crossed signals and miscommunications. I didn’t want to spend two hours in the dark, rubbing my sweaty palms against my jeans, wondering if I should try to hold her hand.

Axe throwing was a much better idea.

Not that I wanted to admit it to these two jackasses.

“I made a call to the Hart sisters and told them to expect you,” Luke said. “First round is on us.”

I blinked, surprised by the unexpected generosity, but even more so by the name. Hart. My breath felt like it had been sucked out of my body. I was used to hearing it as a thing, not as a person. A town, a mountain, a bridge. Now it was people. Sisters. Who might be my relatives.

“The Hart sisters?” I asked. Casually. Like it was all the same to me. “As in, the Harts of Hart’s Ridge?”

“The very same. The last of them, too. At least, the last that bear the name Hart. They have some relatives with other last names running around. Shame. They founded this town, for better or worse.” Luke smirked. “I imagine Kate would have something to say about that.”

I frowned. “Why?”

“Don’t listen to Luke.” Eli rolled his eyes. “Kate’s friendly with all three of them. No one cares about some stupid blood feud anymore.”

Blood feud? My eyebrows shot to my hairline. “This sounds interesting.”

“Three hundred years ago, give or take a decade, Hiram Hart crossed the ridge of mountains into the valley.” Luke dragged a stool around, settling in to tell the story. “Legend says that he was heading west, but he took one look at the fertile valley and decided he was done with crossing mountains. So here he stayed, staking out the best of the valley and claiming it as his own.”

I nodded for him to continue, trying to look interested but not overly invested.

“For the next hundred and fifty years or so, the Harts flourished. The town grew slowly but steadily. Other families settled in the valley, but the Harts, being the first, remained the richest. Until they weren’t.”

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