Page 49 of Quiver

“Practice. Lots of it,” Fletcher said flatly, “but not much more today. I have to set up some stations before the group arrives. You can keep shooting while I work, but you need to get Winston saddled before one o’clock.”

She stepped back and watched Kylie loose one more arrow with mediocre results before walking away. She saw plenty of room for improvement, but needling a person to death wouldn’t produce fluid, confident results. She’d rather work on one good habit at a time before refining everything together. If she also happened to feel a little grateful for any excuse not to stare at Kylie for a while, she didn’t need to examine it too closely.

Things had been different since the storm. Fletcher couldn’t put her finger on what. They worked more now, two sessions a day for the last three days, usually groundwork in the morning and riding in the afternoon. If you’d asked her a month ago, she would’ve guessed familiarity would breed contempt. Instead of nitpicking or sniping at each other, however, the increased time together smoothed the edges of their animosity, or perhaps something had shifted.

She didn’t like that prospect. While she didn’t enjoy the sharp barbs and undercutting comments of their earlier interactions, at least they’d kept her on edge with little chance of slipping. Over the last few days, though, she’d found her mind wandering, her gaze lingering, and conversations flowing into slightly more personal topics. Nothing too intimate, but after talking though a battlefield of barbed wire for weeks, even a discussion of what they planned to eat for dinner constituted meaningful progress, and she wasn’t sure she wanted that.

Kylie loosed another arrow. Fletcher turned instinctively to see where it landed, and when she did, their eyes met. Kylie’s lips curled up in some question, or perhaps seeking an acknowledgement, but Fletcher merely returned to the work of setting up her demo stations.

She had a table full of bows and arrows with suction cups on the end, and a sheet of plexiglass in one area, then a section with darts and balloons like a carnival game. All she needed now was to rope off a thin alley along the row of targets Kylie was working with, but she didn’t want to interrupt her yet, so instead she walked into the barn to ready Gabrielle.

She was in the stall when she heard the sliding door open followed by a high whistle that swung low and then back up again. Bear rocketed down the central hallway, and Fletcher barely turned fast enough to see him pounce on Ava, nearly knocking her back out into the snow.

She rolled her eyes and thought about lecturing them for the hundredth time about letting dogs jump on people on farms with other animals around, but what would be the point? The two of them were as firmly set in their patterns as ones she and Kylie couldn’t quite shake. The thought made her shake her head and straighten up.

“Hey,” Ava said when she spotted her. “I expected to find you in the arena.”

“Which is why you thought you could bend the rules with my dog?”

“Our dog,” Ava corrected, “is the bestest boy in the whole world, and he clearly missed me.”

“Sure, sure, who wouldn’t miss Nice Mom?”

“You didn’t.” Ava closed the door behind her. “You barely returned any of my texts about the storm.”

“I was busy.”

“I’m sure. It must’ve taken quite a bit to plow yourself out if the drifts along your driveway are any indication.”

“Yeah.”

“Looks like you had a few big branches down around the place, too.” Ava folded her arms across the divider between the stall and the hallway. “Were you snowed in for long?”

“Until the next afternoon.”

Ava nodded. “And how did Kye Manchester enjoy her extended stay at Hotel Bouchard?”

Fletcher froze.

Ava shook her head. “So it’s true? The whole town’s buzzing about how you two left the diner together and didn’t come back into town for nearly twenty-four hours.”

She gritted her teeth. “The bare facts are correct, but any significance they’re eager to attach to them are way off base.”

“It’s no one’s business one way or another.”

She didn’t disagree, but she still wanted to set the record straight, at least for Ava’s sake. “We’re working together, training steadily, and yes she got snowed in here after a particularly stressful day, but nothing’s changed since you left.”

“Nothing at all?”

She rolled some of the tension from her neck as she tried to find an honest answer without encouraging too many follow-up questions. “I won’t pretend it’s been smooth sailing. We got off to a rocky start, and I guess that part’s gotten a little easier.”

“And her car’s out front, right?”

“Yes, but she didn’t stay here or anything. She’s finishing her morning session early since I have a class, and she’ll help with the group because that’s in line with the type of things she’ll do if she gets the part, talking about the sport and technique. It’s all about the work.”

“Your work or hers?”

“Both.” Fletcher answered quickly, secure in at least the intersection of their careers if nothing else. “She’s committed to the movie. I’m committed to the sport. We’re both a bit obsessive, and we’re putting in a lot of hours, but it’s totally professional.”