“I’m sorry.” Amy grabbed his arm. “I do want to be here. It’s just... new things like this make me nervous.”
Jake covered her hand on his arm with his large calloused hand. “Relax and let yourself have fun.”
She nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
She waited while Jake loaded everything on the backs of the ATVs, securing it with bungee cords.
Amy followed Jake on her four-wheeler, willing herself to relax. Jake occasionally checked on her over his shoulder. After the third time, she smiled and gave him a thumbs up, then frowned when he picked up speed. When they arrived at the shooting range, disappointment filled her. She’d enjoyed driving the four-wheeler more than expected.
Jake built a fire in a preset fire ring with wood from a, nearby pile. Then he again gave her another crash course—this time in gun safety and how to shoot.
He leaned the rifles against a large log. “No one goes beyond this point...” He pointed at the targets in the distance. “Unless the rifles are on the ground, against the log, safeties on.”
Determining she was ready to shoot, Jake handed her a pair of earplugs and a rifle. He reached his strong arms around her to show her how to hold the gun and focus on the target.
Amy forgot to breathe.
Relax. He’s just showing you how to shoot. Don’t make a big deal out of this. Have fun.
His clean scent, now mingled with dust, exhaust, and smoke from the fire, didn’t affect her so strongly this time. For that, she was grateful.
Amy’s first few shots hit the dirt, nowhere in the vicinity of the target. Jake suggested she try shooting with her other arm, using the other eye to size up the target. Following his suggestion, she took aim and hit the edge of the paper target on her next shot. Excited, she shot again. And again. Each shot hit increasingly closer to the bull’s eye.
After a while, Jake handed her a different gun—a shotgun. Again, her first two shots went wild, but she eventually closed in on the center of the target. She couldn’t quite seem to hit it though.
After emptying the shotgun, she insisted Jake take a turn. “I’ve done all the shooting.”
“Take one last shot. Then I’ll shoot a few.” He loaded a single bullet into the gun and handed it back to her.
Amy grabbed the gun in a tight grip and took careful aim. She wanted to showThe Men—that’s how she’d come to think of Ben and his cousins—she could hit the bull’s eye, at least once. Probably because they took such delight in teasing her about her clumsiness.
She closed one eye, focused on the target, and squeezed the trigger.
A sharp pain ripped through her shoulder. The kickback of the gun propelled her backward so hard, she almost fell over. The deafening report of the shot echoed in her ears.
“Ouch!” Amy heard herself yell, despite the earplugs she wore. She stomped her foot and bit her tongue to keep from swearing.
Checking her arm to make sure it hadn’t been ripped from her shoulder, she struggled to comprehend what had happened. Had she somehow shot herself?
No. That was impossible.
Jake’s laughter penetrated her pain and confusion. He’d done something different to the gun that last time. She laid the shotgun against the log and hugged her arm to her side.
She scowled at him. “What did you put in the gun, Jake?”
He shrugged, but his laughter belied any innocence. Her eyes dropped to the phone he held in front of his chest.
“Did you video that?”
Jake laughed and nodded.
Amy walked over, doubling up her fist. “Make sure you video this.” She punched him in the arm, which made him laugh harder. Again, she rubbed her shoulder where the butt of the rifle had hit with such force.
Jake’s laughter died, and he slipped his phone into his pocket. His expression turned contrite. “Hey, I’m sorry.”
“Your laughter says otherwise.”
Jake smothered a final chuckle. “I do feel bad. I know how bad it hurts. Robert has sneaked that high recoil buckshot in my gun many times.”
