Prater and the guys took lane one, followed by a few family members, and Abbi and Kyle on the other. The farthest lane, lane five, is where Austin attempts to show Cove how to draw back the bowstring. While his hold should be steady, he’s shaking, his hands rattling the drawback with zero control. And that right there is how someone gets hurt.
Anger consumes me as I race toward their lane, careful not to startle him with a weapon but enough to show I’m pissed. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Austin glances over his shoulder with a determined grin. “Showing my girl how to do it.”
“How to do what exactly?” I grit through my teeth.
Cove stands to the side, watching our interaction play out. “Shoot the thing, of course,” he informs me. “Princess has never done it before. Figured if anyone should show her, it’s me.”
Austin raises the bow again, hands and arms still quivering with nerves, while he fires the arrow, sending it straight to the dirt. “Not my best, but you get the concept.” He faces Cove with a smile of pride, and the hesitation on her face makes me want to save her once again.
“Move,” I snap, shoving Austin to the side. “Give me that.” Without argument, he hands over the bow, and I make room for Cove to stand in front of me, putting us face-to-face. “Come here. Let me help you.”
At first, I think she may protest, but I’m relieved to see that her spite from this morning has vanished, and she actually wants to learn something.
Although I’m doing this for purely selfish reasons.
“And here I thought Austin was doing just fine.” I hear Jules’ voice before I see her, and I should have expected her to mark her territory somehow. After the stunt she pulled last night, trying to beg her way into my bed, I’ve about had it. I won’t stand for a pissing contest on my ranch.
She’s a nice woman, but she’s not Cove. And even before Cove, I made it blatantly clear I was no longer interested in fooling around. No matter how many times I tell her what we had was over, she’s insistent on trying again. Once Clay gets here tomorrow, I intend to put him in charge of entertaining her.
She’s no longer my problem.
Hell, maybe I’ll even set them up. Anything to put me in the clear.
“Austin,” I emphasize, “almost shot down everyone here. Seems someone needed to intervene and make sure nobody dies today.”
Jules reaches her arm out to graze mine, and I don’t miss Cove’s eyes following the motion. There’s no way she’d react like that if she were happily in a relationship.
“Stetson. Come on. Why don’t you show me how toshoot and let Austin help his girlfriend? He seemed to be doing just fine. Besides, the range couldn’t be any safer than it already is,” Jules insists.
I wait for Cove to speak. To show me some inclination that what we have is still here. Despite it being so fucking wrong. If this is the only way I can touch her—have her—then so be it.
I’m a greedy man.
Cove inserts herself into the conversation gracefully. “I’ve always wanted to learn. Guess it makes sense to learn from the best. You don’t mind if Stetson teaches me, right, babe?” She turns to Austin for permission, and the guy looks dumb as rocks, with stars in his eyes.
Yeah. Join the club, man.
“If Stetson says he’s the best, then I guess so,” Austin responds, stepping backward to watch from a distance.
What kind of guy lets another man touch his woman?
“You may want to stand back there,” Cove whispers behind her to Jules, who’s still watching with hope in her eyes. “Wouldn’t want to accidentally shoot you.” her soft giggle shouldn’t make me proud, but it does.
“Right…” Jules sighs, leaving us to it.
I search the yard for Nate, wondering where he’s been, before Cove whispers so only I can hear, “He has meetings all morning. He’ll join us for dinner.”
It’s like she can read my mind.
“Thank you,” I mumble hoarsely, finally putting us back to chest and setting up the bow. I make sure to speak closely, letting her feel my heated breath against her skin, the goosebumps that rise on her flesh a physical reminder of our chemistry that’s nowhere close to dead.
We’re a match. Let anyone tell me different.
“Hate to say I’m sad to see you trade in the heels for sneakers. But I think I might enjoy this side of you just asmuch, if not more,” I tell her, unable to hide the way my eyes drink her in.
“You really are shit at jokes,” she quips. “I can do just about anything in stilettos. Don’t challenge me, Stetson. Besides, you’re supposed to be mad at me, remember?”
