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“Ah, Josh, that’s not true. Debate team, year eleven. I lost.”
“Well, yeah, but you went up against me, babe. Of course, you wouldn’t stand a chance against me.”
Emily tilts her head. “Okay, well, how about after I beat Bray, you try to beat me at target practice?”
Her tone is way too confident. She must know how to shoot. “What are the stakes?” I ask her.
She leans up and whispers so only I can hear her, “If you win, I’ll be your sex slave. I’ll let you have any part of me you want.”
Her cheeks redden as she looks me in the eye, winking. I swallow, because damn, do I want every inch of her. There’s one part I haven’t had yet, and I’m itching to claim it as mine. “And if you win?”
“Mmm, if I win, I want the papers to the Lambo.” She laughs.
“My car?” I ask, appalled. She did not just ask me to bet my fucking car…
“Are you scared you’ll lose, Josh?”
“No, I’m scared you’ll win,” I reply.
“That’s the same as you losing.” Ella laughs.
“As long as I’ve got Emmy, I’m always winning. It’s a deal. Now, let’s get on with it. I want to claim my prize.” I wink at Emily. She swallows, a little unsure.
“Don’t worry, babe, I’ll make sure I lube up your little puckered hole real good before I make it mine,” I whisper in her ear. She lets out a quiet moan before she composes herself, turning away from me with pink cheeks.
“Okay, everyone, muffs on. Bray, I swear to God if you shoot someone, I’ll bury you myself,” Zac says, handing me two sets of ear protection.
“Where’s your wife?” I ask him as I take the equipment.
His body stiffens at my question. “Why?”
“She makes you so much more bearable to be around. You should make sure she’s with you everywhere you go. I think you’d find you’d have more friends than just my brother.”
“Really? How many friends have you got, Josh? Last I heard, that count was still zero, you know, ‘cause everyone’s too worried you’ll turn them to pig food when you go off on a crazy tangent.”
Without thinking, I step in front of Emily and peel her fingers from the firearm she’s currently holding. Given the death stare she’s delivering Zac right now, I’m not sure she wouldn’t actually shoot him.
“I’m just gonna hold this for you, babe,” I say, removing the gun from her tense palms.
“Can’t I just shoot him once, Josh? I’ll make sure it’s… like… in a knee or something. Nothing lethal,” Emily seethes.
“Trust me, babe, I’ve had the same thought… more than once.” I glance over at Zac’s unimpressed face, though he does side-eye Emily as if he’s a little worried. He should be.
“Emily, I’m sorry. I’ll try to remember to keep my thoughts about your boyfriend to myself a little better.”
“You should look in the mirror, Zac. Those who throw stones… You know, glass houses and all.”
“Okay, if you all don’t shut the fuck up and put those muffs on, I’m starting anyway. I’m sure Richie Rich over there can afford the hearing aids you will all need,” Bray calls out as he takes a stance at the firing line, his barrel aimed at the target.
“It’s okay. I don’t need you to stand up for me, Em. I’m a big boy. I can take whatever any of these pricks have to say,” I tell her, securing her ear protection in place.
Bray finishes his turn, dragging the target inwards across the lane. I can see he didn’t do too badly, all rounds striking the upper body.
“Your turn, Emily. Good luck beating that.” He smiles, proud of himself. I actually don’t know if she can beat it. He’s a good shot.
Emily looks over the range of handguns. She picks up a few, hefting them in her hands and feeling the weight of each. She doesn’t look satisfied with the choices.
“Josh, is this the only arsenal you have?” she asks.
