Hey Jude (Lennox Valley Chronicles #1)

“I’ve been here a few times, yeah,” he smiles over at me.

“So, you’re really leaning into that whole axe-wielding lumberjack vibe, huh?” I let my gaze travel up and down over his body and grin at him.

He rolls his eyes at me then turns back to her. “Yeah, axes for both of us, thanks. An hour.” She nods and turns to collect our equipment.

Jude leans in close to me. “Keep it in your pants, MacMillan,” he teases quietly, whispering against my cheek.

“You started it,” I say, straight-faced.

He raises an eyebrow, shaking his head.

The woman with pink hair walks us over to our throwing lanes and leads us through a quick safety demonstration, showing me the correct technique. Jude stands by, silently watching us. Watching me. He’s distracting me and I find I’m not taking in what the woman is saying. When she leaves, I hold the axe in my hands cautiously.

Jude leans against the fence nearby with his arms folded and his own axe propped up beside him at his feet.

“I have to admit, for some reason, I had a hard time focusing on what she was saying just now.” I give him a playfully confused look.

He smiles at me, raising his eyebrows. “Is that right?”

“Yeah, it was so weird,” I say, smiling as I sweep my hair over my shoulder with one hand, axe in the other. “I think something was distracting me.” I arch an eyebrow at him.

“Come on, I’ll show you.” Jude pushes off the fence and picks up his axe, then steps into his throwing lane. He stands behind the red tape on the floor in the split stance I remember the woman demonstrating. Holding the handle in both fists, he raises it over his head, aiming for the target. His muscular arms swing slightly backward, then smoothly forward as he releases his grip. The blade lodges in the target with a thud.

“The trick is not throwing too hard, or it’ll over-rotate,” he explains.

“Hmm, I dunno. I might need to see that again,” I say with a frown.

He gives me a look but indulges me and goes to retrieve his axe. He demonstrates for me once more. I watch his muscles working, my eyes devouring his incredible body.

I might be drooling.

“Your turn,” he says, jolting me back to reality. He leans over and kisses my cheek, then reaches behind me and gives my ass a quick slap.

Um, yes, please.

“Come on, this ain’t a spectator sport,” he adds quietly in my ear.

“Oh?” I feign surprise. “Well, it should be. Because that was… chef’s kiss, really. No notes.” I reach behind him and grab his ass.

He inhales sharply.

I let go and hold his gaze, my mouth slightly open. As I pull back, his eyes dip down and linger, and I realize he can see down my top at this angle.

I give him a half-smile, lift my axe again, and walk back to my throwing lane.

“Olena,” he says in a low voice.

“Yeah?” I position my feet behind the red line in my lane, then arch a brow and look at him.

His jaw clenches. “Remember that woman at work I’ve been seeing?”

“Oh, that’s right.” I play along, lining up my hands on the handle. I focus on the target.

“Remember how I said she was driving me up the wall?”

I glance over and catch the clench of his hands on the axe handle. “Uh-huh…” I raise an eyebrow and lift my eyes to his.

“She’s doing it again.”