“Do you shoot?” Hannah asked.
Feeling a little intimidated standing in front of two people holding guns, she said mildly, “No.” She narrowed her gaze on Egan. “Pao said you wanted to see me.”
Egan holstered his weapon. “Today we’re having a lesson.”
She popped up a brow. “A lesson? For what?”
Hannah who must have sensed the growing tension aimed her shotgun to the ground. “I have some business to tend to inside. I’ll see you both later. Dinner at six.”
Once they were alone, Novah tapped the toe of her borrowed boot. “Well?”
“It’s high time you learned how to shoot.”
She squinted. “Why? You know I don’t like guns.”
“Whether you like them or not, you should know how to protect yourself.”
“I suggest you call Hannah back and you two enjoy your afternoon of shooting.” She turned on her heel and started to retrace her steps through the grass…
“Novah?”
Stopping, she didn’t dare look at him for fear what he’d see in her expression. “You know my stance on guns.”
“And I’m not asking you to change those views or ever buy a gun. I’m only suggesting that you learn how to shoot just in case.”
Swiveling, she crossed her arms over her chest. This was just another one of their disagreements. She never liked having guns in the house, but she’d conceded, and he’d kept them locked up. “Just as I always tried to convince you to learn to cook but you never saw the value.”
He grinned. The smile that stretched his lips made her feel warm inside. Doors were opening inside her, the same ones she’d placed padlocks on. This made her vulnerable, but she didn’t have the control, or desire to shut herself off again.
“How about I make you a deal. You learn to shoot and I’ll learn to cook. That is if you’ll teach me. I guess it would do me some good to learn to make more than mac and cheese.”
The temptation was almost too much to bear. Imagining being in the kitchen with him made the hair on the back of her neck lift, yet she didn’t want to be too eager in answering. “Handling a wooden spoon is a bit different than handling a gun. And why is it so important to you?”
“I told you.” He strolled over to the row of empty glass bottles and knocked off the broken ones. “Everyone needs to be able to protect themselves.”
“But you’ll protect Fin and—” She stopped just short of adding ‘me’ to the sentence. She didn’t need him protecting her—or did she? As he reached down into a crate for more bottles, she smoothed her hungry gaze over his broad back. He certainly was a fine male specimen.
“Are you listening?”
“Had you said something?” She’d been busy admiring his ass. Who could blame her?
“I said I might not always be there to protect you.”
“Don’t manipulate me.”
“It’s not manipulation. I’m concerned.”
Her chest tightened. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have Hannah out here with you?” What was meant as a mere statement came out a bit raw and stilted with resentment.
His chuckle caused her great humiliation. “Hannah doesn’t need my help.”
“And I do?” she huffed. “If you haven’t noticed I’ve done okay for myself.”
“Sure. You saved a woman by hitting two men over the head with a poker. That could have been extremely dangerous,” he growled.
Gritting her teeth, she dropped her arms at her sides. “Don’t act like this is my fault. I did the right thing and you know it.” Steaming, she swallowed a few words that she couldn’t allow to cross her lips.
“How about we stay on track. Gun lessons for cooking lessons.”
“I’m only saying yes because Finley needs to eat more than mac and cheese while she’s in your care.”
“If that’s the only reason then I’ll take it. Handling a firearm takes a commitment to learn the skill and safety. Becoming a strong shooter takes regular practice.”
“Just so we’re clear, I won’t be a regular shooter,” she said stubbornly.
“Fine, but at least you’ll be comfortable with the basics. Everyone must start somewhere. You might actually enjoy the knowledge if you’d give it a chance.” He strolled the distance between them and took out his pistol from his waistband. “Guns are only dangerous if we don’t use them properly.”
“There’s a proper way?”
He nodded. “You only aim a gun if you’re willing to shoot. First thing I want to show you is how to grip the pistol.”
“I know how to grip a pistol.” She wagged her brows, feeling a little frisky.
His dimples deepened. “I won’t argue how well you handle guns. Now stay engaged.” With a flick of his wrist, he pulled back the chamber and let it go with a click. “I checked and there’s no bullet in the chamber and no magazine, so I know it’s safe.” He held it out for her to take. She wrinkled her nose and unconsciously took a step back. “It’s safe.”
Reluctantly, she accepted the offering, holding it between her forefinger and thumb like she would a dirty sock. “I’m guessing this isn’t the appropriate grip?”
“Not even close. I’ll show you.” He stepped behind her, so close that his breath brushed her neck. She didn’t mind his closeness, but if he wanted her to stay focused this wasn’t a good idea. “Here. Hold it in your dominant hand and have the web of your hand as far back on the strap as possible. Like this. Make sure your knuckle is under the trigger guard. Yes, just like that.”
Her fingers were sandwiched between the cold steel of the gun and the iron warmth of his hand and although she’d never thought of a gun as sexy, there was something seductive about being there, both of them holding the same gun
