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I shrugged. “I never owned one. Never had one. Never tried to—”
“You’ve been here since the summer,” he swore. “And not one of these jackholes taught you to shoot?”
I shook my head.
“Not even Dakota?” He sounded absolutely astonished. “That grinning farmboy has more marksmanship qualifications than the rest of us combined! He never showed you to—”
“Nope.”
“Holy shit.”
He lowered his head and scratched his neck. It left us both staring down at the thick, deadly-looking gun between us.
“I’m fucking offended,” he said finally. “You should be too.”
It never occurred to me, actually. I’d seen the guys suit up with firearms on occasion, but I’d never asked about them. I’d never thought for a moment they’d ever want to show me.
“Well get dressed,” Briggs said. “We’re shooting.”
“Really?”
“Of course.” He squinted down at me for a moment. ‘Unless you’re gonna get all gun-squeamish on me.”
In answer, I picked up the weapon. Hefted its weight. Closed my hand firmly over the grip and looked down the sights, being sure to point it well away from the both of us.
“Good girl.”
Forty-Seven
SAMMARA
“That’s better! Now you’re following through.”
The fifth plastic bottle exploded in a violent, pinwheeling spray. It fell to the grass next to the others, as the round splashed into the lake behind it.
“Remember, keep your elbows locked. You want to look through the sights.”
It turned out firing a gun was a lot less scary than I thought. Maybe it was because I’d imagined them to be so hard and powerful. Not curvy and sleek and comfortable in my hand.
Briggs stood behind me, his body tantalizingly close to mine. Every once in a while he’d lean in to adjust my stance, putting an arm on my shoulder, or his hands on my hips.
My hips…
During those times I usually missed the target. Either on purpose, because I wanted him to touch me again, or because the feel of his hands on my body was so pleasantly distracting.
“I still can’t believe they left you here without protection,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m going to kick their asses when they get back.”
I shrugged. “I guess they didn’t think I’d need it.”
We shot all morning, at various different targets, until the polymer-resin pistol felt like second nature — an extension of my own right arm. It was the first really warm day of spring. Last night’s rain had made everything green and beautiful.
“Lunch?” I asked sweetly.
We picnicked down by the water, staring at the glass-like surface that stretched out before us. It felt good to be outside again. Good to feel the sun on my skin.
And all the while, I kept staring at my fourth boyfriend and latest lover. Not because he was beautiful, which he was, but because I was trying to read the man behind the name. For so many long months he was just ‘Briggs’ — far away, intangible, untouchable. I’d only seen photos. Heard a few tales. And now here he was, all mine, and I could finally know him any way I wanted to.
Only I didn’t want to press things too quickly. Not after last night, where things already seemed to be going a million miles an hour.
