He cleared his throat. “Ted. I’m only Little Theo to my family and Sully over there.”
Sullivan put up a hand, calling for a truce. “Ted,” he said and then pointed to himself. “Sullivan. I get it.”
Ramsey shook her head. Boys. “Anna told us you just kicked your girlfriend to the curb.”
“Hey!” said Sullivan. “You’re with me.”
Ramsey winked at Ted and they both ignored Sullivan. “So…is it true?”
“Uh-huh. You shopping?”
She shrugged. “I could be. It’s generally not my way to rob the cradle, but I’m thinking I might not want to leave with the one that brought me. Did you know he’s a maniac on a four-wheeler? My bones are still rattling.”
Sullivan defended himself. “I slowed down.”
“When I head-butted you.”
“I guess you should have kept on butting me, then.”
Ramsey turned on Sullivan and made her point with the point of her finger on his chest. “Don’t. Tempt. Me.”
Sullivan grinned.
“I’m serious,” she said.
“I know, but I can’t help myself.”
“I think I liked it better when I could piss you off.” Without quite knowing what got into her, Ramsey rose on tiptoes and kissed Sullivan on the mouth. She didn’t linger, but God knows, she wanted to. Dropping back to her heels, she pivoted and regarded the Adonis. “Your father said something about a Glock 43. Anna’s. He wants me to try it out. And, please, hearing protection.”
“Coming right up.” He slipped behind the counter, unlocked the gun case and pulled out Anna’s Glock. “Do you have a color preference for your ears?”
“Anything but pink.”
“Purple?”
“Purple’s good.”
“Black for me,” said Sullivan. “And I’m supposed to try out the Peacemaker.”
Ted turned back to the gun case. “Got it right here. Papa was really excited to get it at auction. I don’t think it was owned by Wyatt Earp or anything, but it’s from that era.” He placed it on the counter beside the Glock. The Peacemaker, the preferred gun of sheriffs, shopkeepers, and outlaws more than a century ago, looked huge and heavy beside the compact Glock. Ted set out cartridges for the Colt and a few magazines for the Glock.
Sullivan pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “Let me pay for the ammo and the rental on the head gear and the safety glasses.”
Ted said, “You want my father to fold me into the phyllo dough? You know your money’s no good here. In the tavern, yeah. But not out here.”
“Sometimes it’s not even good in the tavern,” said Sullivan.
“Well, that’s for Theo to decide. My orders are clear out here. No charge. Not ever.”
Sullivan slipped his credit card back into his wallet and the wallet back into his jeans. “Where do you want us?”
Ted studied the wipe off board attached to the countertop. He erased the contents of a couple of squares with the heel of his hand and used a grease pencil to write in their names. “You’re number fourteen, Sullivan. Ramsey, fifteen.”
Sullivan nodded. “See you in a bit.” He reached the door first and held it open for Ramsey. She walked through putting on her ear protection.
Ramsey had a short stack of questions she was itching to put to Sullivan. The ear protection was a deterrent, and coupled with the fact that she really did want to shoot, she would find another way to scratch the itch.
The gun range had fifteen lanes so she and Sullivan passed everyone on the way to their targets. Ramsey could not help but notice that those not engaged in siting a target lifted a hand to Sullivan, some of them fist bumped the air, some of them—the women—gave him a flirty wave. She was tempted to step closer to his side, send a clear message to the women that they would understand, but it would have been a dog-in-the-manger move, and she wanted to be better than that for Sullivan and for herself.
