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“Oh. Well, you know, my dad taught me how to shoot early on. He was a good teacher.”
“He teach you that speed reloading technique?”
She looked almost embarrassed, like she’d been caught doing something naughty.
“Um, I think I got that one off of Youtube,” she said.
“I doubt that.”
“What can I say, I like guns. What about you?” she said, pointing to the holster on his hip. “No appendix carry?”
“What?”
“Your holster,” she said. “I thought all of you cool guy special ops types liked to carry your guns in the front of your waistband, here?” she said, pointing to the front of her belt just above the pocket of her jeans.
“Most do,” Pony said.
“But not you?”
“Gets in the way when I try to ride.”
Another one of those cheeky grins that Pony couldn’t help but adore, as she said, “Mushes your man parts, does it?”
“That’s classified,” he said. “Anyway, keeping it around the side here keeps it out of the way while I’m riding. Slower to get to, yes, but…”
“But at least there’s no man parts being mushed.”
“I have my priorities straight.”
“You could always wear a fanny pack,” she said. “Carry your gun in there.”
“Fanny pack,” Pony said, nodding and pretending to think that over. “Yeah, maybe I should look into one of those. Get one that says ‘Born To Ride’ on it. In sequins.”
“Sexy,” Piper said.
Pony’s face felt a little strange. It took a couple of seconds for him to realize, it was because he’d been grinning like a Chesire cat this entire time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been smiling like this, and the muscles of his face must not have either, because smiling this much for this long felt almost alien.
“How do you know what appendix carry is?” he asked.
Piper shrugged. “I told you, I like guns.”
Pony had to admit, he was impressed. Most people had no idea what appendix carry was. That, along with the easy grace with which Piper handled her pistol, made it clear to Pony that she was a lot more skilled than the average shooter.
More than meets the eye, indeed. Piper was proving to be much more interesting than he’d imagined, and he’d been imagining quite a bit lately. He couldn’t help but lay an admiring eye on the back of Piper’s tight jeans as she turned to rummage in her range bag.
Piper glanced over her shoulder, caught him looking, and said, “Taking a break?”
“Just waiting to see what you were coming up with next,” was the best he could come up with on the spot.
“Oh, say hello to my little friend,” she said, holding up a cut down pistol.
Pony recognized it from his military days, a Glock 26. It looked the same as her 19, only if someone came along and snipped an inch off of the front of the barrel and again off of the bottom of the grip. The result was a stubby little gun that was easy to hide away and hard to spot under clothing.
“A backup pistol, too?” he said.
“A girl’s got to be prepared. It’s a jungle out there.”
Another thing they had in common. Pony had been known to carry a backup pistol from time to time, though mostly he kept a knife on his belt and a second folding knife in his pocket as backups.
