“That’s west,” he agreed. “How far does that thing shoot?”
“It’ll go half a mile if it goes an inch.”
He looked at her, then shielded his eyes and peered down the creek. “What’s downthere?”
“Miles and miles of pine trees, all the way to the Alabama border.”
Which he probably knew, because he seemed the responsible type who wouldn’t shoot a projectile without having an idea where it would land.
Still, she wasn’t surprised when he took off, his long stride eating up the ground.
Of course he didn’t believe her that they were clear to launch.
After the pumpkin-chucking disaster, she couldn’t entirely blame him.
She jogged after him, her legs pumping double time to keep up. “See, you don’t trust me,” she said with a fake sniff. “Suppose you didn’t trust your ex either. Maybe that’s why she left.”
He slid her one of thoseI see you right through your baloneysmiles. “When we got engaged, she kept saying she couldn’t waitto see the world. But when it came down to the wire, she didn’t want to go. Likes being close to her family, doesn’t like being alone, and military life isn’t good for that.”
“You miss her?”
He kept his gaze straight ahead as though the forest might give him the right answer. “I miss what I thought we had,” he finally said. “But I miss the idea of her more than I miss the reality of her.”
She had to stifle a snort. “Oh, sugar, been there.”
“You get married so you could keep moving?”
“Probably some of it,” she conceded.
“Still want to move?”
“No.”
“Give it another year.”
She understood his theory—wanderlust happened—but in the past year or so, especially with Ron following her here to Georgia,she’d begun to understand she hadn’t liked moving for the change in scenery or the challenge or even because she got bored.
She’d liked moving for the chance at a fresh start. To try to be someone else for a while.
“I don’t want to start over anymore,” she said. “I am who I am, and I’m about done looking for a place I fit better. I fit how I fit. And there’s not a place in the world that’s gonna bend to fit me any better than I can fit myself.”
He grinned at her. “You’re one of a kind, Dr. Boudreaux.”
“And I’m sure the world’s grateful.”
Thirty minutes later, Lance had agreed that it was safe to shoot the potato gun. They hiked back to where they’d left the equipment, and Kaci handed him her pink pride and joy. “Stuff one of those potatoes into the top of the barrel, but don’t push it all the waydown yet. You got a knife?”
He pulled a four-inch folding pocketknife from his back pocket.
“Once you get the potato in up top, we’re gonna cut a slit for the ring,” she explained. “Then you can finish loading it and fire it off.”
“You’re going to let me fire your potato gun.”
She dug a foot into the sandy ground. “I have this little problem with aim…”
He snorted. “No way.”
“Hush up. It’s not because I’m a girl. If my daddy hadn’t left us too soon, he would’ve had me out at the firing range every Saturday afternoon. But my momma kept stuffing me in dresses and making me do all those dang beauty pageants. I snuck out and had my fun where I could, but you ain’t met the woman. She could’ve been a drill sergeant.”
