Between a Fox and a Hard Place by Mary Frame

Author:Mary Frame [Frame, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mary Frame

Chapter Fifteen

Archer

* * *

“Where are we going?” She buckles up, tension still humming in the line of her shoulders.

A little over an hour has passed since we agreed to the day off. After running into Whitby for supplies, I meet Finley at my cabin and usher her into my still-running car.

“Not far. Just over the hill by the pond.”

She glances into the back seat. “Are those axes? What’s in the thermos?”

“Yes, those are in fact axes. The thermos has hot cocoa to keep us warm.”

“Are you going to murder me?” She sags down in the seat. “I guess that’s one way to solve all my problems. At least you want to get me warm first. You’re a considerate murderer.”

I chuckle. “You really keep your sense of humor through everything.”

“I’m really good at using humor as a coping mechanism,” she says drily. “It’s a Fox family trait.”

“Rest assured there will be no murder today. We’ll be safe. We’re going to do a little bit of axe throwing.”

Her brows lift, and she grins. “Really?”

“Yep. Sometimes you just want to throw things. And throwing and stabbing at the same time is like an added bonus.”

She laughs and claps her hands together, the taut line of her shoulders dropping an inch. “Okay. That sounds fun.”

My heart lifts at her response. I wasn’t sure how she would react to this idea. I doubt she’s taken a day off in the past ten years.

The dirt road over the hill to the pond is rocky and rough from disuse. The SUV bobs and weaves, but we make it over without too much trouble.

I pull over next to a cluster of pine trees. Opening the trunk, I grab the four-foot pine board that I bought at the hardware store in Whitby, while Finley gets the axes from the back seat.

It takes me only a few minutes to set up the target in front of two trees set close together.

By the time I’m done, Finley’s unpacking the rest of the stuff I gathered, taking out folding chairs and setting them out along with a few wool blankets.

“What’s in the cooler?” She tilts her head toward the item shoved into the back of the trunk.

I pick up the bundle of firewood next to it and toss it to the ground. “Wieners.”

She grins. “We’re going to roast wieners?”

“Yep.” I squint up at the overcast sky. It’s midday, but the sun is hiding behind clouds, the entire sky gray and dreary. “It’s a little cold, so a fire seemed ideal.”

“Fire and sharp objects.” She nods. “I already feel better.”

“Only one rule,” I say.

She looks at me expectantly.

“There are no rules.”

She rolls her eyes with a snort. “Okay. Whatever you say, Fight Club.”

“Maybe one rule. Don’t throw the axe at me.”

She sticks out her bottom lip in a pout. “Party pooper.”

I finish setting up the target, using spray paint to make a circle with an X in the center of the thick board.

“I have no idea how to do this,” Finley says from behind me.

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