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A slow smile crossed his face. “Come on, princess. I’ll show you.”
He hauled her out of the chair before she could sputter a response. He stopped beside a truck and opened the door. “Hop in.”
Isa smoothed a hand over her dress. “I don’t think I’m wearing proper gun shooting attire.”
His blue eyes leisurely looked over her orange-and-white summer dress. It hit two inches above her knees in a bubble complete with pockets. It was one of her more favorite dresses she’d designed and made.
“I think you look just fine.” He nodded to the seat. “Get in. I’m hot.”
She grumped but did as he said. In retrospect, knowing how to handle a gun may have come in handy after her run-in with the Greenback Cutthroats the other night.
Doc’s grazed kiss still haunted her. She couldn’t decipher if it was real or merely a figment of her imagination. After the trauma, she could only assume it was her mind playing tricks on her.
Ten minutes later, she shook her head. “No, I’m not shooting that thing.” She stared at the handgun on the bar at the shooting range.
“You’re a Macha princess. You have to learn.” He smirked. “After all, there’s only so much Dolly’s self-defense classes can teach you.”
“How do you…?” She stopped herself there. No doubt Brewer spilled the beans. “I’ll smack that bartender good the next time I see him,” she muttered, walking closer to Doc. “What do I do?”
“First, make sure you have these handy. Don’t want you to lose your hearing.” He handed her a pair of large orange earmuffs. “Always treat a gun like it’s loaded, and always keep your gun pointed in a safe direction. Next, always keep your trigger finger off the trigger and outside the trigger guard until you’re ready.” He grabbed the gun.
“Seems idiot-proof.”
“You’d think, wouldn’t you?” He handed her the gun. “You’ll want to grip the gun with two hands at first. Your dominant hand?” He glanced at her.
“Right.”
“Right hand should grip the gun high on the back strap. Your left hand supports the other, and you place it over the exposed part of the grip.” He watched as she followed the instructions.
Isa easily complied, and he nodded approvingly. “Good, now all four fingers of your supporting hand should be under the trigger guard with the index finger pressed hard underneath.”
She folded her left hand over.
“Not quite.” Doc moved behind her and covered her hands with his own, showing her precisely how to hold the gun. His overgrown hair tickled the back of her neck, and she felt a shiver down her spine.
“There, good. Now your stance. Feet shoulder width apart with your right leg a little in front of your left. Bend your knees slightly and raise the gun toward the target.”
Performing the acts as he spoke, Isa couldn’t help the smile crossing her face. She’d always wanted to learn to shoot, but it wasn’t a mum-approved activity.
Doc hadn’t moved from his spot behind her, and she felt his wide chest against her back. “Good. Now to aim. Always use your dominant—right for you—eye and align the sights.” He flicked a small notch on the gun, and she followed suit until it was aligned properly. Doc slid the ear coverings in place on both of them. “Relax, take a breath, and once you’re ready, squeeze the trigger.”
Isa held the gun up and focused on the bull’s-eye at the end of the yard. It wasn’t too far away. Fifty yards if she had to guess. The sun beat down on her head, but she didn’t feel the warm rays. Birds chirped in the nearby forest, and the chatter of squirrels was unmistakable until the ear protection was in place. Now it was deadly silent. Finally, she took a breath and squeezed. The gun discharged, and she watched in surprise as it hit the target.
Doc let out a whoop. “Way to go, princess! You’re a natural.” He showed her how to put the safety on, then tugged the orange muffs off.
“Holy shite, that was amazing!” She placed a hand on her chest. “My heart’s beating so fast.”
He smiled behind his sunglasses. “My heart always beats fast around you.”
Isa rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Bloody American flirt.”
He laughed but didn’t reply.
She spent the next hour learning about ammo, loading, cleaning, and every other little tidbit Doc managed to squeeze into conversation about guns. By the time they made it back to the clubhouse, Isa was confident she could hold her own should the moment arise.
Come for me, I’ll be ready.
* * *
