Chapter 8

It’s Friday, and by a miracle of scheduling and Shelley’s generosity since she knows I have a double tomorrow, I have the full afternoon off.

Taking advantage of it, I drive over to Roseboro Arms, which sounds a lot more like a high-end apartment complex than a gun shop to me.

Whatever. Maybe the name gets the upper echelon of gun buyers who are nothing like me. I get off my scooter and head inside, opening the door cautiously, like I’m going to be greeted with a ‘yee-haw’ and a hail of shotgun pellets. I’ve really got to get my fear of guns under control.

I’m not quite sure what I expected, but what I find is a quiet, neat little store that looks more like a jewelry shop than anything else with glass cases surrounding the space.

The deep burgundy office-style carpet looks freshly cleaned, and in a surreal twist that must be fate laughing ironically at me, the sound system is quietly playing Do You Really Wanna Hurt Me?

“Hi, can I help you?” the man behind the main counter asks, looking up from the magazine he’s flipping through.

“Uhm, hi. My friend, Charlotte, recommended I come down here, says she works with a guy named Brady?”

“Brady? That’s my little brother,” the man says, smiling. “The name’s Saul. What’re you looking for?”

“Home... uh, personal defense?” I reply. “Something I can carry in a purse.”

“Well, first thing I’ll tell you is that you need to get your permit to carry concealed,” Saul says, “but it’s pretty straightforward. I’ll help you with the forms. Now, let’s see what we can do for you.”

It’s almost dizzying, listening to the man talk about calibers, actions, trigger weights, and more. I give him respect, though, because he’s not ‘girlifying’ it for me. He’s giving me the information straight without any of the condescending attitude I expected.

Still, I feel like an idiot. “I’m really not sure—”

“Maybe I can help?”

Even though I’ve forced myself not to think about him, and my schedule has helped fill in the void, keeping my mind preoccupied, the voice is like cool water on a hot day, instantly quenching my thirst but making me want more at the same time.

I turn, seeing that half-smile on Gabe’s face as he looks at me with those piercing eyes. Instantly, butterflies take flight in my belly and my thighs clench together.

With every drop of blood rushing elsewhere, my mouth opens before my brain can filter my thoughts. “You didn’t come in Wednesday like you promised. And what’re you doing here?”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I had some last-minute business come up, and I got held up out of town longer than I anticipated. I apologize,” Gabe says, stepping a little closer. He’s just inside my personal space bubble, but instead of feeling like it’s an invasion, I want him even closer.

I want to be mad, and maybe I am . . . at myself for getting tied up in a guy I don’t have time for and that doesn’t have time for me, judging by his trip out of town. But maybe that makes us even? So I let him off the hook a little.

“Well, I didn’t give you my phone number, so I can’t blame you for not telling me,” I murmur, smiling a little. “So what about the other question? What’re you doing here?”

“Just shopping. Shooting’s a hobby.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal that he pulls the trigger on a powerful machine that spits out life-ending projectiles. For all my nervousness about guns, the idea of Gabe directing and controlling all that power is sexy.

I can feel the heat on my cheeks and try to cover my dirty thoughts. “Hobby, huh? I guess you know something about guns?”

Gabe chuckles, nodding. “A little. I enjoy target shooting in my spare time. Boring sport to some people, punching very expensive holes in paper... but I like it. Thought I’d get some practice in during some down time. What about you? Come here often?” he lets the words ooze off his tongue flirtatiously, but it’s with a big wallop of humor laced through.

“Personal defense,” Saul injects into our conversation, his own smile not dimming at all. “I was just about to recommend the Glock 43.”

“No,” Gabe says, his smile never fading but his voice gaining an authoritative edge. “Let’s try the Springfield XDM.”

Saul nods, always the happy help. “That’s a fine choice too,” he says to Gabe before turning to me. “Now we just need to make sure you know how to handle it.”

I look to Gabe, but he lifts his chin toward Saul. “Let him do the full beginner tutorial. I’ll shop around and leave you to learn so you’re not distracted.” He must see the disappointment mixed with fire in my eyes because he leans close, whispering by my ear, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll check on you in a few. Go get ’em, tiger.”

Things area lot less fun thirty minutes later as I hit the button on the little paper target thing and it rolls in close to me, showing me where I’ve hit.

“More like where I’ve missed,” I grumble, looking at the three holes in the paper. Ten shots, and I only hit the paper three times? Three friggin’ times in ten shots?

I could throw the bullets down the range and hit more often than that.

It’s the kick. I know what Saul showed me in the lesson he gave me, but between pulling the trigger and the way the gun seems to jump in my hand, I just feel out of control with each shot.

And the tighter I hold the gun, struggling to control it, the harder it is.

Suddenly, I feel a warm, hard body close to me, and before I can react a strong arm wraps around me, holding my wrists. Then my borrowed earmuffs are pulled down, the cacophony of echoes in the room hitting me full force.

“You’re doing it all wrong,” a gravelly voice says in my ear as I feel Gabe’s body nearly envelop me.

“Well, it’s my first time,” I say, coating the words with innocence, but my smirk makes it obvious I know exactly what I’m doing. With the flirting, at least, but definitely not with the gun.

Gabe inhales sharply, and his voice is even deeper, his chest rumbling against my back. “Let’s start from the beginning. Show me your stance.”

He steps back and I miss his warmth. Still, I assume the grip on the pistol the way Saul showed me, and Gabe watches. I can feel his eyes on my body, looking over my shoulders and back, then drifting down my hips and legs before starting back up. It feels clinical, though I hope he likes what he sees.

“Not too bad for a first-timer.” His tease is playful, making me smile, and then he lightly asks, “So, what made today the day you purchase a gun? Anything in particular spark this?”

His eyes quickly trace up and down again, though this time there’s nothing professional about it at all.

I lower my pistol, setting it on the bench before clipping in a new target. “My friends encouraged me, for the most part. They’re concerned about my living alone.”

My eyes widen as I realize I just told a strange man... a very sexy strange man, that I live alone. I’m quite literally the too-stupid-to-live girl in every cautionary tale, I think to myself.

Well, at least he knows I’ve got a gun. But then again, unless he’s the broad side of a barn, he’s got little to worry about from me.

“Probably a smart decision in that case,” he says pragmatically. “As long as you know how to use it. You know, I think a woman who can handle a gun is... sexy.”

The way he says it turns up the heat in the firing range by about twenty degrees, and I glance over my shoulder to see him looking directly at me with a dimple-framed smile. “Okay, now what?”

“Reload, and I’ll show you,” Gabe says, picking up my empty magazine and quickly slipping ten fresh rounds into it. “Oh, and earmuffs. Always shoot safely.”

My mind must be twisted, because I swear I can see his eyes twinkle when he says it, but I put my earmuffs back on and send the target to the end of the indoor range. I reload the gun, and Gabe watches, coming around me again and resting his hands on my wrists, his body pressed lightly against mine.

The wanton slut in me begs permission to rub my ass back against his dick, but I refrain, appreciating that he’s not using this as an excuse to grind on me like most guys would. Gabe is a gentleman, something I’m not used to, I think wryly.

He pulls one earmuff away an inch, his voice muffled against my ear. “Relax your grip. I can feel it in your forearms,” he says, and I will my muscles to release.

“There you go. Now, just focus on the front sight. The target’s not moving. It’s not going anywhere, and when you’re ready, squeeze slowly...”

He lets go of the earmuff, and I take aim down the barrel of the gun the way Saul showed me, aligning my sights and the target. I take a slow breath and squeeze slowly.

The pistol pops in my hand, and as soon as it does, I can see the paper jerk and a little white hole appear in the black part of the target, the high scoring rings that I’ve never hit before. Gabe looks and smiles.

“Nice shot. Now, try again.”

I’m no Annie Oakley, but this time, I hit the paper nine out of ten times, and best of all, five shots in the middle. I can’t help but smile, and Gabe throws his hand up for a high-five, which I return carefully, keeping the gun aimed down range.

“Improvement?”

“Much better,” I agree, my shoulders still tingling from where I felt his chest pressed against my back. “Uhm... mind showing me how you do it?”

“Sure,” Gabe says after a moment. “Can I use your piece?”

I nod, hooking up another target and sending it out while Gabe reloads again.

I step back, expecting the slow, methodical, two to three seconds between shots that I did, but instead, Gabe’s an explosion of shots, ten rounds before I can barely take two breaths, his brown eyes going from warm to icy as he jabs the button and reels the target back in.

The paper, which has a few pieces of tape on it from where I’ve patched holes, suddenly has ten brand-new punctures in the paper, and all of them damn near bullseyes.

“Whoa,” I whisper, looking at him with newfound amazement. “Forget buying the gun, I should just bring you home.” I slap my hand over my mouth, my eyes going wide.

Oh, my God, did I just say that? I didn’t mean it like that. Okay, maybe a little, but I wouldn’t have said it so boldly if my ovaries weren’t exploding like the target paper bits did. Gabe’s right, someone who can handle a gun is damn sexy.

Gabe’s smile tells me he heard exactly what I said, and what I meant, and those butterflies once again start fluttering like a hurricane in my stomach.

“If you’d like,” Gabe answers my accidental proposition but without pressure. “I’m just glad I can help.”

“Hopefully, I won’t need this, but the strung-out guy down the street has been coming on a little too strong lately.”

Shit, I just keep blurting things out that I shouldn’t be.

Gabe’s jaw clenches. “A neighbor?”

“Kind of. Technically, he owns the land my house is on, a land lease. And he keeps coming by to collect aggressively. He’s bad news in general,” I explain with a lift of my shoulder. “What’re you gonna do?”

“You think he’s dangerous?” he asks carefully. His eyes go icy as I tell him how much Russell scared me that morning outside my house, and I can see his hands curling and uncurling. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Yeah, well... I guess it scared me enough that when Mia and Char said I should come down here, I did,” I admit, stepping a little closer. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with learning to defend yourself, right?”

Gabe’s eyes are serious as he closes the distance, and if he were to reach out right now, he could wrap me in his arms again. But he just stands there, hands at his side.

“There’s nothing wrong with being strong enough to take charge of your own fate,” he says, his expression darkening, and I wonder what trick of fate he’s trying to control.

Gabe blinks, the iciness melting a little as he reaches up, his hand curling around the nape of my neck as he moves in close enough to kiss me.

But instead, he says softly, “You don’t have to give me yours, but I’m going to write down my number. If he gives you any problems, you call me, okay?”

I nod but minimize the situation. “I’m sure everything will be fine. This is just a precaution,” I tell Gabe, not wanting to bother him, though secretly, I think that’s exactly what I want. After all, he’s getting me very bothered. And hot. Hot and bothered, that’s me.

Gabe smiles a little, warmth and iciness mixing somehow as he looks at me. It’s like he’s being warm and intimate with me but could still hand out pain to anyone who’s a threat to me. It’s the sexiest look I’ve ever seen on a man’s face.

“I insist. Now, let’s practice some more.”

We try again, and as we keep going, I can’t help but get more and more turned on. It’s intimidating, the power in my hands, and as I try to shoot, my mind keeps flashing to the brief moments of Gabe popping ten rounds in that circle the size of a grapefruit faster than I could believe.

It was terrifying, but also sexy, watching him in total and utter control of the instrument of death in my hands.

“Remember, relax,” Gabe says softly, coming behind me again. He puts his hands on my shoulders and presses them down gently. I hadn’t even realized they’d crept up toward my ears. “You’re thinking about the results and not the process of getting there. And that’s making you tense, throwing you off.”

His voice is almost hypnotic, and as his hands start to knead my neck and shoulders, I feel hormones flood my body. I’m turned into Silly Putty under his thumbs, and in my mind, I wonder if anyone’s ever made me feel such a twin mix of sensations at the same time.

Scared and attracted, turned on and relaxed, worried and comfortable... Gabe’s got all of them swirling in my chest, and I feel like there’s not enough oxygen in the room.

“There,” Gabe says in my ear. “Now, just line up the sights. Remember, you’re just shooting a piece of paper... and go.”

Ten shots, and I feel like a machine.

Breathe.

Aim.

Squeeze.

Breathe.

Aim.

Squeeze.

Ten times the cycle repeats, and when the paper comes in, there are ten holes in the black rings. “Very nice. Very, very nice,” Gabe praises.

“Thank you,” I reply, grabbing the target.

He takes his turn, hitting all bullseyes again, but I never even look at the target, instead focusing on him. Feet spread wide, hips square, jaw clenched, and eyes narrowed. It’s like an action hero popped off the Hollywood screen, especially when he takes the last shot and turns to me with a boyish grin.

He sets the gun down and glances at the clock on the wall. “Listen, I have to go, but maybe we could get together and do this again? Or dinner? Not at the diner, to be clear.”

He blinks a little faster, the smallest sign of nerves at asking me out, which I guess is understandable since I shot him down last time. I’m not making that mistake again.

I dig in my bag for a pen and grab my successful target sheet, thinking it might be nice to save as a souvenir of my first shots, but instead scribbling my number on the corner and giving the paper to Gabe.

“Here, take this. You really helped me a lot, and I think this shows that.” I smile warmly.

He takes the paper, looking both at the number and the scatter of holes, then back to me. “Thanks. I’ll call you soon.”

He starts to leave but turns back, and the butterflies in my belly flutter, thinking he’s coming back for a kiss. But instead, he tosses me one of his signature panty-melting half-smiles.

“Bye, Bella.”

I bite my lip at the name. I liked it when he wrote it, but hearing him say it is even more of a wow. I wave and then he’s gone.

Saul steps back into my lane behind me, asking politely, “Ready for me to show you how to break it down for cleaning and safe storage?”

I nod, but the excitement of a moment before is gone with Gabe’s exit.