“Here’s where you stand,” I instruct Gigi as she lines up next to me at the outdoor range of The Cowherd.
I point at the pyramid of beers I’ve set up. “And there’s where you aim.”
Dye sits calmly inside with Rusty at the closest table to the open door while George stands anxiously next to them.
I ignore George’s look. “Oh, have faith in her. They’re not real bullets. She’ll be fine.”
Gigi does look terrified. Those big eyes and that pouty mouth—no wonder Logan fell for her. I could practically fall in love with her, and I can’t stand her.
“Oh, Macey. I thought I wanted to do this, but guns scare me so much. Logan’s father was talking about the deer he killed last night over dinner, and I just couldn’t believe people still hunt in this modern era!”
I’m stuck on the first part of what she said. “You ate dinner with Logan’s parents? How did that go?”
“Great,” Gigi says immediately. “Why wouldn’t it?”
I shrug. “No reason.”
Until he finally quit alcohol for good, Mr. Wild got drunk at the dinner table and fought with his brother, Blake’s dad. Every single night. Usually, it was about money. Sometimes, it was about business decisions. Sometimes, it was just over the cattle themselves. But they were always fighting. And Mr. Wild wasn’t a sloppy, self-destructive, but otherwise harmless drunk like my daddy.
He was a mean drunk. A violent one, mainly with his sons.
Mrs. Wild coped by sipping from a constantly-replenished jug of wine she kept secretly stashed behind the boxes of macaroni and cheese in the pantry. But until they were old enough and could excuse themselves, Logan and his three brothers had to sit in the middle of the crossfire every single dinner. All ignored by their daddy unless someone dared to speak up or do something, like breathe, the wrong way. Then, they were sworn at. Or hit.
Logan always vowed to be different.
I sigh, wondering if he’ll become a father as soon as he says, “I do.”
George coughs loudly. “Mace? Why don’t you start the lesson, huh?”
I jump. “Right. Sorry. Okay, so where were we? This is a shotgun. They’re not dangerous if you know what you’re doing. And I’m going to teach you safely.”
“Don’t they shoot bullets?” Gigi says. “And the bar’s so close.”
“These aren’t lead bullets. Plus, you’re outside in the middle of nowhere, and that over there is a bulletproof wall. Isn’t that cool?”
I pick up my shotgun and tell Gigi to step back before I unlock, aim, and kill the top beer. I shoot the next row down, then lock the shotgun and tell Gigi it’s her turn.
I show her how to square her body to the target, how to hold the gun, how to aim, and how to unlock the safety. I tell her to never, ever put her finger on the trigger until she’s ready to shoot. “Never. You get it? Not ever. Even if it’s locked. Too risky.”
Gigi nods and flares her nostrils. Normally, this would drive me crazy, but even that looks cute on her. She takes her mark, does everything exactly as I taught her, then pulls the trigger.
And…she hits her target.
“Wow,” I say. “You did it.”
She’s so excited she asks if she can do it again. And she does. She hits the next beer. And the next.
She doesn’t miss for four beers. And that’s only because the fifth can falls off the pyramid before the bullet reaches it.
“Beginner’s luck?” George offers up with a glance at me.
I take the shotgun out of Gigi’s hands and lock it down.
She can do anything. She can nearly outshoot me, even.
Gigi giggles and reminds me that I told her we’d go shopping together before her engagement party.
“Since the party’s coming up soon, how about we go right now?” she suggests.
