She tilted her head, trying to read me, but didn’t press. Just held onto the lilies not wanting to set them down. When her nails and toes were done, I paid the bill before she could argue and offered her my hand. She took it, letting me guide her out of the salon and into the car.
“Where are we going?” she asked once we pulled off.
“The range.”
She blinked at me. “The gun range? Seriously? I just got my nails done.”
“Good. Then you’ll learn how to pull a trigger pretty, but this is happening.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re crazy.”
“Crazy would be leaving you out here soft when everybody got eyes on you. I’m not doing that.”
Her gaze sharpened. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“We trusting each other now, right? Then trust me on this, too. I want you to protect yourself if you need to.”
She smirked, cocking her head. “Who says I don’t already know how to do that?”
She had the lilies in her lap the whole drive, occasionally playing with them or smelling them. I was so damn dialed in.
“You really showed up to take me to a gun range with flowers?” Her nose crinkled, and I shook my head. “I thought we were going somewhere cute.”
“Balance,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road. “Soft in one hand, steel in the other. That's life with me.”
She looked out the window, but I caught the smile.
Legacy Arms sat off Route 9, a Grimson family operation my father built before I was old enough to hold a weapon. Hill ran it now who was ex-military, sharp, had been behind that counter for fifteen years.
“Grim, good to see you,” Hill nodded, already reaching for the key. “Lane four's ready.”
“Good looking.” I steered Coco through before she could read too much into the exchange.
The smell hit her immediately. She took it in without a word.
When we stepped into the lane, she watched everything: my stance, the way I checked the magazine, the steady rhythm of my breathing before I pulled the trigger.
I fired once. Clean hole, dead center.
“Show-off,” she muttered.
“Damn right.” I handed her the pistol, careful to angle it safely. “Your turn.”
She hesitated, chewing her lip, then squared her shoulders, ready to prove me wrong. I moved behind her, adjusting her grip, sliding my hand along hers. She stiffened at the closeness but didn’t move away.
“Relax your arms,” I said low, close enough for her to feel the words against her neck. “Lean in. Let the weight work for you.”
She inhaled, just for a second, before she pulled the trigger. The shot landed wide, but she didn’t back down. She reset, fired again, closer this time.
“Better,” I murmured, steadying her hips. “You learn quick.”
She glanced back at me, eyes shining under the fluorescent lights. For a moment, the noise of the range faded, and it was just us, her heartbeat close enough to feel, my hand covering hers. Too close.
She was the one who pulled away first, lowering the gun with a laugh that sounded more nervous than amused. “Guess I’m not completely hopeless.”
I took the pistol back and set it down. “Not even close.”
We stood there a beat too long, both of us in deeper than we planned for. She broke it with a soft smile.
