Just My Type(35)

Narrowing my eyes on the center of the target, I take a deep breath.

“Throw it just like you would a football. When you see the middle of the handle in your top right field of vision, let go, following through with your arm until it’s back down by your side,” Ember coaches.

I do as she says, letting the hatchet fly. My eyes follow it all the way down, watching it tumble ass over end, until it thwacks onto the board. Nowhere near the center, but at least it’s in one of the fucking circles and not flopped down on the floor.

“Holy shit, you did it,” Ember states with a shocked voice as I turn around with a satisfied smile on my face.

I walk right up to where she stands until we’re toe-to-toe. Leaning toward her, I watch her eyes widen in shock the closer and closer I get to her face, pausing when we’re only a few inches apart.

“I had a good teacher,” I tell her softly, moving in even closer.

“I should call my son,” she suddenly blurts as my chest presses up against hers, her back arching just slightly as she moves with me. “You know, since I’m a mom and I have a kid and I should probably call him and say goodnight.”

My arm moves around her as I continue pushing her back while I lean forward, grabbing my beer from the table behind her.

“Calm down; I’m just getting my drink.” I smirk at her, pulling back from her and holding my beer up in front of us.

She looks at me in flustered annoyance as I cover up my smile by taking a swig.

Pulling the beer away from my mouth, I cock my head to the side and look her up and down. “Makes sense you’re a good teacher, being a mom and all. Which, now that you mention it, is just gross. And frankly, makes you super unattractive. I’m honestly getting sick to my stomach just looking at you,” I tease with a straight face.

“Oh, kiss my ass. Being a mom doesn’t make me any less dateable or desirable. I am a goddamn catch,” she fires back, crossing her arms in front of her in a huff and giving me precisely what I wanted.

Setting my beer back down on the table, I grin at her.

“Exactly. Once more for the people in the back.”

She realizes what she just did and lets out an adorable, annoyed sigh.

“Ready to turn that page yet?”

“Not in the slightest,” she lies, lifting her chin in defiance. “We still have work to do.”

Turning away from her, I start walking away to retrieve the hatchet, yelling over my shoulder as I go. “Fine, but try to keep your hands to yourself! It’s making me feel very uncomfortable and vulnerable. Feel free to keep staring at my ass though.”

When I quickly glance back as I walk, I watch her eyes dart up from my ass and a blush heat up her cheeks. She whirls around and angrily snatches her bottle of beer from the table, while I start thinking about our next interview and how much fun it’s going to be getting under her skin. Without breaking the pinky swear, of course.





CHAPTER 15





I. Am. Shook.


To: Ember Hastings

From: Baker Matthews

Subject: Re: Incomplete Transcription

Thank you so much for your continued dedication to this transcription job. I was pleasantly surprised to receive The Hatchet House file to read two hours after we parted ways last night, while I was winding down before I retired for the evening. I like to unwind by sipping a scotch on the rocks and smoking a cigar while listening to classic rock, like a bad ass, in case you need that for future reference for this interview.

Unfortunately, there were large chunks of data missing from this transcription file you typed up. Namely: *Your breathy little sighs whenever you looked at my mouth *How fast your heart was beating when you had your chest smushed up against my back *Your inability to keep your hands off me during the hatchet throwing instruction. Specifically, my hard-earned and well-developed biceps, triceps, and quads. Just so there’s no confusion, quads are the muscles in my thighs. You know, the hard, sinewy, rugged, and manly thighs your hands couldn’t stay away from *Number of times you pictured me naked the entire evening Very unprofessional that you would leave such pertinent information out of this transcription file. I’m shocked, Ember. SHOCKED. Or maybe it’s shook. Isn’t that what all the cool kids are saying? I. Am. Shook.

In all seriousness, let me know what day you’re free this week for our next interview. I’m thinking Friday. I know your son is probably in school during the day, and I can try to move some things around so we can meet then. But if that doesn’t work, my offer still stands; I can provide babysitting options.

Baker “You’re Picturing Me Naked” Matthews

To: Baker Matthews

From: Ember Hastings

Subject: Re: Fuck Right Off

Once again, I have updated the subject line of this email to better reflect the nature of this communication. Also, was it really necessary to attach a picture of yourself flexing, with arrows pointing to specific muscles? And really, Baker. A bathroom selfie? (SHAKES HEAD SLOWLY WITH JUDGEMENT) Funny, I spoke to Blake earlier today, and she told me she called you while you were “winding down” last night. I don’t believe there was any mention of scotch, cigars, or classic rock. There was, however, mention of a bubble bath, a chilled glass of Moscato, and Enya playing in the background. (I. Am. SHOOKETH) Friday’s not good for me. I’ve already blocked off the day to get my son a pet. It’s a surprise, and I have no idea what kind of pet I’m getting him, but by the time he gets home from school, there will be another living creature in my home. Preferably, one that is less time-consuming than a puppy, but not as boring as a goldfish. I should probably start googling that.