Unexpected Inheritance

3

Their second date took them to another local favorite—a bar that doubled as an axe-throwing spot. Miranda wasn't sure whether the combination of alcohol and sharp objects was a good idea. It was the kind of place she wouldn't have ever stepped foot in back in the city, but out here? It felt like part of the experience.

Ben ordered them a couple of drinks while Miranda eyed the wooden targets at the end of the lanes. "So this is what y'all do for fun out here?" she mused, watching someone let an axe fly with an impressive thunk into the bullseye.

"It's about precision, control. You up for it, city girl?"

"I don't know, Ben"

Ben laughed. "Don't worry, Doc. I'll make sure you don't embarrass yourself too bad."

She shot him a look, but before she could argue, he was already leading her toward the throwing lane. "Alright, come here," he said, gesturing for her to stand in front of him. He handed her an axe and moved in behind her, his hands settling over hers. His voice was low near her ear. "You wanna grip it firm, not too tight. Feet shoulder-width apart."

Miranda swallowed. The warmth of him, the way his voice rumbled—it was... distracting.

"You listenin', Doc?"

She cleared her throat. "Feet, grip. Got it."

He smirked but didn't call her out. Instead, he guided her through the motion. "Now when you throw, don't just use your arms. Put some power behind it."

Miranda took a breath, squared her shoulders, and took aim. She pulled back and launched it forward with determination. The axe hit the wooden board—barely—and clattered to the ground.

Ben tried—really tried—not to laugh, but the smirk on his face was impossible to hide. "Solid effort."

She shot him a look. "It slipped."

"Uh-huh." He stepped up behind her, voice low. "Here, let me show you."

Before she could protest, his hands were on her waist, adjusting her stance. His body was warm behind her, and Miranda felt the heat creep up her neck.

"You're overthinking it," he murmured. "Hold it firm, like this." He guided her grip, his fingers brushing against hers. "Now step into it, aim, and let it go smooth."

With him so close, it was hard to focus on anything other than how solid he felt, but she followed his instructions. This time, when she threw the axe, it stuck into the board—far from the bullseye, but at least it didn't bounce off.

Ben let out a low whistle. "Look at that. Almost dangerous."

Miranda smirked, tilting her head up at him. "Almost?"

Ben chuckled, stepping back and grabbing an axe of his own. "Now let me show you how it's really done."

He lined up his shot, flicked his wrist, and sent the axe spinning straight into the dead center of the target. He turned back to her with an easy grin, like it was nothing.

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Show-off."

He shrugged, picking up his drink. "Maybe. But if you want some more lessons, I'd be happy to oblige."

Miranda took a sip of her drink, trying to ignore the fact that her pulse had kicked up a little. "We'll see."

One evening Ben was out by the fence line, fixing a loose post when he heard footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Tuck approaching, hands in his pockets, looking like he had something on his mind.

"What's up, kid?" Ben asked, wiping sweat off his forehead.

Tuck rocked on his heels for a second before asking, "Is moonshine really as strong as people say?"