by Alison Bliss
Jake was confused. “What, then?”
“He was the policeman who told me my parents died.” A tear squeezed out and rolled down my cheek.
“Emily—”
“Wait. Let me finish.” I sucked in a deep breath to maintain control of the pressure building in my chest. “That policeman showed me compassion and kindness, letting me cry until I thought I’d die myself. He never asked me to stop, or be brave, or anything else I imagine you’d tell a young girl who had lost her parents. He wrapped his arms around me and didn’t let go. I had no one else, Jake, but he didn’t let go. He promised everything would be okay, and I believed him. Then Child Protective Services showed up and practically tore me from his arms. But no matter what, he wouldn’t let go. Another officer held him down and pried his fingers off my wrists. They shoved me in a car, kicking and screaming. He fought to get to me, but they drove me away.”
“He was a friend of your parents?”
“No.”
“Had you ever met him before?”
“No.”
“Emily, did you even know his name?”
“No, Jake.”
His eyebrows knitted together. “I don’t understand. Why did he not want to let go? You were strangers.”
I cleared my throat and looked directly into Jake’s eyes. “The night I met you, I felt something. A connection between us.”
“Yeah, I thought so, too. But what does it have to do with—”
“When that policeman came to talk to me, we had an instant connection. I didn’t know what it was at the time. His partner held him down as they yanked me away. He kept telling him ‘She’s not your daughter.’ I remembered hearing about a cop’s daughter who died a few weeks before. She was close to my age, but I don’t believe we went to the same school. Afterward, I knew why he’d reacted the way he did and why I felt connected to him. We both were grieving for the family we’d lost.”
Jake shook his head in disgust. “Just to have him ripped away, too. Jesus. No wonder you have a hard time trusting people.”
“I didn’t want to ever let anybody else get close to me again. Somehow, Dale and Gina snuck under my radar. Still, I kept them at arm’s length. They asked me to move in with them, but I couldn’t. I’m afraid to let them in, though they’re my best friends. It’s why I couldn’t say good-bye. I can’t stand the thought of losing anybody else, including you.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
It was now time to fess up to the embarrassing part, the part I never thought I’d have to explain to anybody. “I know it’s going to sound stupid, but there’s a reason I keep forcing the sex issue.”
Jake looked at me with an intrigued expression.
“I wanted it to be sex, and only sex, between us. Keeps it impersonal, allows me to stay detached, and…”
“Easier to walk away?” Jake guessed.
I nodded. “I don’t sleep with just anyone. In fact, there haven’t been many. I can still count them on one hand,” I said, giving him a weak smile.
Jake smiled back. “That doesn’t matter to me.”
“Well, it matters to me,” I said, sitting up straighter in his lap, with a tight laugh. “I bet you can’t count your partners on one hand.”
Jake raised an eyebrow.
“Two hands?”
“How about I see your two hands and raise you a foot?”
“Why so many?”
He shrugged. “Men are despicable creatures.”
I managed to laugh. “Trying to make me feel better?”
“Is it working?”
“Yes,” I said, yawning. “I’m tired. We should get ready for bed.” I climbed off his lap and walked toward the cottage.
“Hey, Emily,” Jake called. “So about this whole promiscuous act…”
“You thought I was promiscuous?”
He shuffled his feet nervously. “Well, yeah…uh, no…shit. Forget it.”
“Jake, I’m not a slut because once in my life I wanted to shag a hot stranger. Jesus. I do have morals.”
He smiled wide. “You think I’m hot?”
That’s all he got from what I said? Guess I’m not the only one with selective hearing.
…
Jake stood behind me, trailing his hands slowly down my arms as his stubble scoured my shoulder. His warm breath blew onto my neck. I felt his hard-on pressing into me from behind.
My hands shook, and though I closed my eyes, I was unable to concentrate. With his every touch, I vied for control of my senses. His hand-eye coordination was much better than mine, but that only comes with experience. And I didn’t have much.
“Maybe we should wait,” I whispered to Jake.
“Grab it, Emily.”
I wrapped my hand around it, feeling the textured ridges under my fingertips as my pulse raced. “Now what?”
“Open your eyes.”
Laughter escalated from behind us. I opened my eyes to toss Cowboy, Ox, and Judd a go-to-hell look.
“Ignore them,” Jake said. “Concentrate on the target.”
“I can’t concentrate when you’re this close.”
Jake’s cheek rose against mine. The jerk was smiling. I guess no one deemed this serious, except me. I stepped away, lowered the small .22 caliber pistol he had given me from his ankle holster, and gave him a withering stare.
Jake pulled out the 9mm semi-automatic pistol resting in his shoulder holster. “Want me to demonstrate again?” He pointed it at the hay-stuffed scarecrow he nailed up on the tree thirty-five yards away. I prepared for my body to flinch the way it did every time he pulled the trigger. For me, gunfire didn’t hold pleasant memories.
“Hold on, Jake.” Hank walked up and leaned against the wooden fence post. “I need you to drive to the feed store and pick up the order I called in.”
Jake stepped over to him and lowered his voice. “I can’t leave her alone that long. I’ll be too far away if something happens.”
Hank looked insulted. “What am I, chopped liver?”
“I’ll send the boys in my place. It’s going to take me all day to teach Emily how to shoot. We’ve been out here half an hour already, and I just now got her to hold the gun.”
“I’ll work with her while you’re gone,” Hank offered. “It’ll take an hour for you to get back. She’ll be shooting like a professional by then.”
“The boys won’t mind. They have nothing better to do.”
“I didn’t ask your opinion, Jake. That was an order.”
“But I—”
“Son, unless you want me to jam that 9mm of yours up your ass and kick off the handle, I suggest you get going.”
Jake knew better than to hang around any longer. He and the boys loaded into the pickup truck and shot down the driveway without another word. When Hank says jump, you shut your mouth and put your parachute on.
“Was there any particular reason you didn’t want Jake teaching me how to use a weapon?”
“Yep.”
I scowled at him. “It’s not one of those male bravado things about women shooting guns, is it?”
“Honey, my wife shoots better than most men I know.” He stepped over to me and smirked. “That boy tried to teach you how to use his weapon, all right. But it had nothing to do with the gun in your hand. If I’m going to get any work out of Jake, then I thought it best I step in before his so-called private lessons got any more explicit than the tent in his pants.”
“Oh God.” My cheeks reddened.
“I’d go to church to pray for you both, but I doubt it’ll help your situation any,” Hank added with a laugh. “Now let’s get to work. I’m going to give you a crash course in target practice. Before long, you’ll be outshooting Jake.”
“But Jake hits the bull’s-eye nearly every time he shoots.”
“Then he’s almost as good as me,” Hank said.
“Okay, what do I do?”
“Point, shoot, and hope for the best.”
“I thought you s
aid I’d be shooting like a professional in an hour?”
“The hour’s not up, honey. It’s easy. Point and shoot. You can’t mess this up,” Hank said, watching as I lifted the gun and aimed. “Wait, that’s not how you do it.”
By the time the boys came back, Hank and I were sitting in the shade drinking some iced tea Floss had brought down. I was more confident with the gun and wasn’t flinching anymore at the sound.
Jake strolled up with an acidic grin on his face. “We were going to unload the truck first, to give you some extra time to practice, but since you don’t seem to need it…” he trailed off. “I want to see what you got.”
That prompted a chuckle from Hank. “She’s a natural. Damn good shot.”
“Emily can’t hit the broad side of a barn,” Jake said, grinning at the other men. “In fact, I’ll bet fifty dollars she can’t hit the scarecrow in three shots or less.”
“So you’re a betting man now, are you, Jake?” Hank asked, eyeing them all. “Any of you other boys want to get in on the action?”
Unreassuringly, they all jumped at the chance to bet against me.
“Can’t wait to see this,” Jake said, walking ahead toward the target with his tight-knit group. They chuckled and bumped fists in a show of macho posturing.
It made me regret letting Hank bet on me. “Hank, I appreciate what you’re doing, but you know you’re about to lose some money, right?”
“Emily, I have faith in you. Get your adrenaline pumping and focus. It’ll be like second nature. You’re the minority, and you have a temper. It won’t take long before these guys light a spark under you. You’ll do fine.”
Once I was standing there, lining my sights on the target, I knew Hank was on the wrong side of the betting pool. The pressure of performing like a seal with a ball on my nose got to me.
Jake glared at me, waiting for me to mess up my first shot, which wouldn’t be a problem since I was genetically programmed to short circuit around him. It didn’t help that the others heckled me.
I squeezed the trigger gently, and my first shot went wild, not coming close to my target. All the boys laughed.
“There’s one,” Jake said.
“Glad you can count,” I replied icily.
When I shot for the second time, a piece of the bark flew off the tree, but the scarecrow remained untouched.
Jake had a smile plastered on his face. “There’s two. Maybe Hank should’ve made a sticker chart for you.”
“At least I hit the damn tree. He said the more I practice, the better I’ll get,” I said, shrugging off his comment.
“Or the luckier she gets,” Jake muttered to the guys, making them laugh more.
“You’re all a bunch of comedians, aren’t you? I’ve been shooting for only an hour. Heaven forbid you pass a compliment my way. It’s nerve-wracking enough shooting while you’re all staring at me as if I were standing here in my underwear.”
Cowboy spoke up. “Darlin’, if you were in your underwear, none of us would care if you hit the target. Hell, I doubt we’d even notice you missed. Might be worth fifty bucks to watch you shoot in your panties.”
The male chauvinist attitude pissed me off. Call me oversensitive, but their remarks left me motivated to hit my target more than ever. On a whim, I lifted the gun, barely aimed, and squeezed off another round, working more on instincts.
My third shot hit the scarecrow in the crotch, blowing a hole in the target’s pants. All of the men winced and let out a collective groan. I doubted it had anything to do with the money they’d lost.
Hank walked up, tickled with my shot, and slapped Jake on the back. “That girl sure knows how to twist the knife, doesn’t she?”
“Jake, maybe you should get Emily to show you a few things about shooting,” Judd said, laughing. “She must have a knack for it if she can make a shot like that.”
I smiled proudly at my win. Men are such pushovers.
Cowboy, Judd, and Ox all dug out their wallets and slapped cash into Hank’s hand. Jake was the only one who hadn’t paid up. He reviewed the target, probably wondering how I made that shot. Hell, I wondered the same thing.
I couldn’t help but gloat, though. “Man up, Jake. It’s not every day you get shown up by a girl.”
Jake was irritable, but I never expected him to react the way he did. He pulled the 9mm out of his shoulder holster and unloaded the entire clip into the scarecrow. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one with a temper. About three seconds after he put away his gun, the scarecrow fell off the tree. Show-off.
He grabbed the gun from my hand and shoved it into the waistband of my shorts. “Keep this somewhere accessible in case you need it.”
I didn’t like the feeling of a loaded weapon pointed at my crotch. At least not one of the metal variety. “You think my pants are accessible?”
“For the gun, no. For me? Oh, yeah.” He grinned, then walked over and handed Hank fifty dollars from his back pocket.
Hank pocketed his money. “As lucky as that girl is, we should take her with us in the morning.”
Jake gave him a yeah, right look. “Emily? Hunting? You’re kidding, right?”
His comment bugged the crap out of me. It was bad enough he’d called me promiscuous. He was lucky I didn’t shoot him for that alone. Now, I had a good mind to pistol whip the bastard. No need, though. Jake had given me all the ammo I needed to get even. So he doesn’t want me to go hunting and thinks my pants are accessible, huh?
We’ll see about that.
…
Jake slid under the covers. “You’re not going. End of discussion.”
“I am going. Hank said I could.”
“And how did you talk him into that?”
“By winning him two hundred dollars in your stupid bet. Guess he felt like he owed me. What does it matter? You said yourself that you should be close by if something happens.”
“I’m not going to be far,” Jake said. “Floss will be here, and she knows how to shoot a gun. Besides, no one will find you here. It’s the last place they’d look. You’re safe here.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“You’re still not going,” Jake said, glaring at me.
“We’ll see what Hank says about that. Of course, it might hurt when he kicks the handle off your gun while it’s in your ass.”
Jake clenched his teeth. “Stop being pigheaded. Why would you want to go sit in a deer blind? It’s not going to be any fun.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I said with a wicked grin. I was having lots of fun annoying the hell out of Jake right now. “Besides, it’ll break up the monotony.”
“Are you going just to irritate me?”
“Who, me?”
Jake looked exasperated. “You’re getting even with me about earlier today.”
Before he could catch me smiling, I rolled away from him and flipped off the bedside lamp, plunging us into total darkness. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
There was a moment of silence.
“You’re going to get cold and end up snuggled up to me in the middle of the night. Might as well come over here now.”
My heart skipped a beat, but I stayed put. “No thanks.”
“Want me to spoon with you instead?”
I held the mattress in a death grip, forcing myself to stay on my own side of the bed. My attempts at torturing Jake had mixed results. I needed to rewire my own brain to alter its responses to him if I was going to have any luck driving him crazy.
“That’s okay. I’m fine,” I lied.
Jake sat upright in bed. “Okay, what’s wrong with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m waiting for one of your snide sexual remarks.”
“Too tired. Plus, we have to get up in a few hours. Maybe tomorrow night I’ll feel up to it.”
I couldn’t see him, but I imagined him glaring at the back of my head with brows furrowed into the bridge of his nose and his mouth tightene
d into a thin straight line. If anything, his silence reeked of confusion. It surprised me how fast he gave up and lay back down.
After admitting he cared for me, I was positive he’d become the sexual aggressor. I hadn’t counted on Jake’s resilience and patience, as well as my lack thereof. To drive him bonkers, I’d have to rethink my strategy and start baiting him to keep him involved, like a sexual game of tag.
“Oh, Jake…” I paused for a moment. “Did I ever tell you I don’t have a gag reflex?”
He groaned. “Damn it, Emily. You make it hard to be a gentleman sometimes.”
Gotcha! You’re it.
Chapter Eleven
Okay, maybe it wasn’t such a great idea after all. What moron gets up at five o’clock in the morning to go hunting? Me, that’s who. And I only did it to get Jake’s goat. If I was smart, I would’ve let him keep his damn goat and gone back to bed.
“That’s not camouflage,” Jake said.
I looked down at the T-shirt I got from Junior’s daughter. “What do you mean?”
“It’s pink.”
“So. It still has the same pattern as your shirt does.”
“Yeah, but mine is the color of dirt and leaves. Only thing you’re going to blend in with is a piece of bubble gum. Here, wear this.” Jake peeled off the long sleeve camouflage shirt he wore over a black T-shirt. He put it on me as his uncle came out of the house.
I pointed to Hank’s bright orange hat. “Why does he get to wear color, and I don’t?”
Jake glanced over at his uncle and shook his head. “Because his hat is that color for safety reasons. He won’t get mistaken for an animal and accidentally shot walking through the woods.”
I slid Jake’s shirt off and tossed it back to him. “Well, unless someone is hunting bubble gum, then I should be fairly safe.”
Jake grunted, glaring at Hank. “You said she could come; you get to deal with her.” Then he grabbed a flashlight and stomped off toward the back of the property.
“Who crapped in his oatmeal this morning?” Hank asked.
“I guess that would be me.”
Hank grinned and turned on his own flashlight. “Let’s go.”
We caught up to Jake on the back side of the pasture near the barbed wire fence. Jake pushed the bottom wires down with the weight of his boot and picked up the top wire to create an opening. Hank went through first and I followed, before turning to watch Hank do the same for Jake.