AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’d never given a second thought to that particular product but suddenly couldn’t think of anything else.
I tried to look like I possessed a scrap of concentration for my aim, nodding now and then at whatever he was saying, but I struggled to shake off the effect he had on me. I needed to focus on the target, not the heat of his hands on my bare skin.
I definitely needed to stop thinking about how good he smelled. Aftershave, beard oil, I didn’t care. Earthy, like a forest, but with something bright and crisp in there, too. Maybe Old Spice had a new scent—SilverFoxalicious.
Way to focus, Molly.
I released my arrow, but it zoomed toward Duncan’s target. Apparently, everything was drawn to him.
“That would have counted.”
“You’re letting the bow drag over your fingers when you let go,” he said. “Try for a quicker, smoother release.”
He moved in front of me, clenching his fingers back and forth to demonstrate, and I mimicked the motions. He cupped my hand in his, showing me the move with his fingers over mine. Did I think his hands were warm before? His palm practically seared as it swallowed up my smaller hand. Kind of wished we weren’t wearing these freaky gloves.
“This is certainly a detailed archery lesson.” I’d shot for casual sarcasm, but like everything else I’d aimed at today, I missed. Awkward and breathy weren’t all that convincing as casual.
His eyes sparkled with mischief. “It’s good to be thorough.”
Yeah, I would just forget all the thoughtsthatsentence fired up. In a minute or two.
He nodded toward my target. “Give it another go.”
Ignoring the excited flurries in my stomach, I took a deep breath, raised myself to full height, and positioned the bow and arrow. Duncan put his hands at my arm and shoulder again, either not knowing or, more likely, not minding that his attempt to keep me steady had the opposite effect.
Trying to think of the bullseye and not his hands, I released the string. The arrow hit the target with a satisfyingthunk. It lodged just outside the ring in the upper corner, but it’d hit.
I raised the bow in triumph. “Yes! Take that, you lousy English!”
Bea gave me a sharp look.
“Not you.” I waved at her like we were chatting over a backyard fence. “You’re fine.”
I turned a guilty look on Duncan, who shook his head at me.
“The old enemy,” I whispered.
“Possibly a new enemy,” he whispered back.
Pretty sure Bea had fired the first shots, but I would try to tone down my jabs.
“When did you learn to do this? You obviously have some skill with a bow.” I delivered my best Aragorn impression, but it seemed lost on him.
“I first learned when I was a boy, but I took it up again a few years ago.”
“Why?”
“I have this annoying neighbor…”
I faked a gasp. “You wouldn’t.”
He ticked his head toward the targets. “It’s a sport is why I took it up. I enjoy it.”
“Well, I’m crap at it.”
“You’ve shot four arrows. Twenty-five percent of them hit the target.”
“Hey, when you put it that way, I sound pretty good.” I nocked another arrow. Focusing on my fingers, I released it, and watched as it sailed over the top of my target. “Pretty damn good.”
