Immediately, she choked on her wine, her mouth slightly open when she turned her head. “Sharpshooter as in with the militaryor as in you trained yourself to be a highly sufficient serial killer who’s finally lost his lust for performing heinous murders that would rival any horror movie?”
Chuckling, I found myself relaxing more than I thought I could around her. The moment was far too fucking surreal. We were sitting outside on the step of the front porch. Both Ellie May and the almost recovered Sailor were huddled together behind us as if boyfriend and girlfriend and there was a huge patch of stars in the sky.
Now this was some damn Hallmark movie.
“Well, let’s just say I can kill a man from over three hundred yards with a single bullet.”
“Wha—at?”
Her mouth was still wide open, but she didn’t flinch when I leaned over, gently pressing her jaw closed. “There are a few fireflies out tonight. I’d hate for you to swallow one.”
Every time she rolled her eyes, my dick twitched.
She shrank back, not from the suspected horror of whatever bloody images were racing through her mind but from amazement. “You might not believe this, but my uncle was considered a sharpshooter.”
“Oh, yeah? Which arm of the military was he in?”
Her nose wrinkled just before she answered. “The Marines. Unfortunately, I never met him, but my dad has stories. Lots of stories. I mean he had lots of stories.”
“Army Airborne.” It had been a long time since I’d managed to state the words without facing head on scrutiny.
How could a man of honor do something so horrible?
Why wasn’t he kicked out of his platoon?
He should lose his medals.
Yeah, maybe I should have. I took a long pull of my third beer, reminding myself I had to drive home and I had precious cargo to worry about.
“That’s amazing. Is that why the tattoo on your arm?”
She’d seemed fascinated by the ink, something I took for granted. Flexing the muscle in my forearm, I held it out. “Nah. I got it after I came out.”
“A flame with a rose in the center. That must be symbolic.” She reached her hand out then shot me a look. If the light were any brighter, I might notice she was blushing from being so forward. “Do you mind? I love art.”
“That’s right. You’re a painter.”
Goddamn it, every time the woman laughed my cock pressed against the zipper of my jeans. Did she have a clue what she was doing to me? I doubted it. “I dabble. Painting gives me peace.”
“You’re damn good. The first thing I noticed when I walked into the pet store were the paintings. I thought someone had taken photographs.”
When her face lit up, she could ignite the entire world. I was certain of it. “That’s the best compliment I’ve had. Thank you.”
“Absolutely. You can touch it.” I kept my arm held out, watching as she traced the lines. “I rarely bite.” My words brought another caustic tilt of her head.
“What does it mean?” Using delicate fingers, she concentrated on the flames.
“That everything precious can be lost in a flash. Like in a fire.”
She stopped moving altogether, pulling her hand away. Shit. I’d caused her more pain. However, she hid it well, this time her smile practiced, one she used when she didn’t want anyone getting too close. Fuck. I knew the look well, although my expression was rarely laced with a smile.
“Do you miss being with your unit?”
“Sometimes,” I admitted and that was true. “But what I miss the most were the jumps.”
I’d piqued her interest. “A skydiver?”
“Yeah. I lived for the jumps.”
