A corner of his lip curves. “You smell like coconut.”
My heart trips, thrilled that he’s noticed me the way I’ve noticed him. “Oh, that’s my shampoo.” It’s my favorite scent. Well, it was before I smelled Karson. But what if he isn’t a fan? “Do you like coconut?”
He grimaces. Not a good response. Note to self: buy new shampoo.
He ducks his head and gives a shrug. “I mistook the scent for sunblock and assumed you spent your days at pool parties, among other things.”
Oh … I duck my head to better see under the brim of his hat. “Sounds like the scent is a trigger.”
He exhales in a thoughtful huff. “How can you be both so innocent and insightful?”
I’m not sure if this is a rhetorical question or if he really wants to know. “My sister is a psychologist, remember?”
His eyes crinkle in the corners. “The evil twin?”
“Yes.” I’m glad we can joke about this now. I enjoy joking about things that hurt me. If laughter is the best medicine, then jokes are the Band-Aids.
The brim of his hat lifts high enough for him to really look at me. And for me to really look at him. I take a deep breath of spicy gun oil.
“You ready?” he asks.
My heart flutters. “I’m so ready.” I’ve been ready since he busted through my front door to rescue me last summer. But I’m not sure we are preparing for the same thing.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
KARSON
A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is brave five minutes longer.
—RALPHWALDOEMERSON
Gemma may not have fired a gun yet, but she’s already pierced my heart.
I know I have an itchy trigger finger, but I never figured I could add a trigger guard to my temper. I’ve never thought of myself as dangerous. More like a gunslinger from the Wild West. I’m a quick draw, so I can get them before they get me.
Gemma’s now past my judgment of her coconut scent, but I still have the fake-girlfriend defense. Of course, with the way I’m staring into her eyes, and the way I’m soon going to put my arms around her to help her aim a gun, she’s smart enough to figure out my first “date” with Bree had also been my last.
Yeah. This is going to be nothing like teaching Bree to shoot.
I sling a bag of ammo over my shoulder and grab both a shotgun and handgun before leading Gemma through the back door of my garage. She’s looking all around, and I’m torn between watching her wonderous expressions and viewing my surroundings through fresh eyes. What does she see?
The giant pine trees. The ivy that snakes its way up tree trunks. The ferns and moss that replace the grass of normal back yards.
I do have a little stone patio with an iron scrollwork table and Traeger grill. It also holds an old porch swing Granddad made of logs, now shiny from overuse. Grams hung the flower baskets on the lone post I used for stringing white lights to the eves of my house like an awning. The scene has me wanting to invite Gemma for dinner sometime. From what she just said, I think she’s ready for that.
However, she’s currently focused on what lies beyond the stepping stones and wooden arbor. Granddad built the U-shaped gun table and shelter when I was in fourth grade, so it’s pretty dilapidated. Nothing when compared to what they have at other gun ranges.
“How cool,” she gushes.
“I like it.” I set my firearms on the creaky table and pull out the ammo.
She turns from facing the paper target I already set up a hundred feet downrange to look at the guns I brought with us. “I get to shoot a rifle?”
If I’d known she wanted to shoot a rifle, I would have brought one. “This is a shotgun. It fires a bunch of steel pellets called shot.” I pick up the shotgun and pump it to make its trademark cracking sound. “You hear that? That’s the best home defense unit sold on the market. It will scare away any intruder. They know that even if you have bad aim, one of those pellets is bound to hit them.”
She studies the weapon, slim eyebrows arching.
So I place the firearm on the table and load a round. “I recommend getting a pink one. That way if you ever shoot someone, and they take you to court, your defense attorney can hold up the pink shotgun, and the jury will laugh at the weapon and find you not guilty.”
