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I don’t even know why it bothers me so much. I have no claim on Dallas. So what we made out earlier. That meant nothing. Or at least that’s what I’m trying to tell myself. We’re just having fun. Fooling around a bit. Same with Griffin. No strings attached. Always.
Yet, when Ginger places her flimsy hand on Dallas’s forearm while she laughs at something he says; I want nothing more than to chop her stupid fingers off with a meat cleaver.
Okay, maybe I’m overreacting a bit.
Or maybe not.
“Are we here to shoot some guns or for endless small talk?” I snap, making Ginger giggle, and Dallas lift one eyebrow at me.
“Go ahead and take booth eight,” Pete offers. “I’ll get you a good array of guns and ammo brought over momentarily.”
Dallas and I both nod and make our way to booth eight.
“What was that about?”
I shrug, as if it didn’t really bother me that much. “I just don’t like how handsy she gets with everybody. It’s unprofessional.”
“Are you sure that’s what it was about?” Ugh, why can’t he let this go?
“Let’s just shoot, okay?”
“We don’t have any guns yet.” He points out the obvious.
“Then let’s just not talk.” I fold my arms across my chest, signaling that I’m done talking.
Unfortunately, Dallas is not. “You know, my grandparents were married for sixty-five years and people always asked them ‘What’s your secret?’ My grandfather used to say, ‘You really start loving someone when you tell them something you are scared of sharing, and they react in a way that calms you. That’s when that person becomes a safe haven. And every time that happens, you love them a little more.’”
I stare at him, unprepared for his sudden deep words of wisdom. I’m not sure what to say. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and look around the room uncomfortably.
Luckily, Pete approaches us, pushing a metal cart packed full of different guns and ammo. Thank fuck.
“I brought you some rifles, and two handguns each, new armor-piercing bullets, and I’m going to set up some special exploding targets for fun.”
“Music to my ears,” I say, glad Pete interrupted the awkward silence.
Dallas shoots me a glance that says ‘we’re not done talking about this’ but luckily he lets it go for now. Sliding on my ear protection, I grab the Glock from the cart and load it quickly. I step up to the window and aim at the human-shaped target, aiming for the head. My finger slides over the trigger as I take a breath in. On my exhale, I pull it. The gun fires, ricocheting in my hand as I fire again and again until all fourteen bullets of the extended magazine have ripped through the center of the target.
“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” Dallas mumbles next to me, making me laugh. He could say the same about most people here, but I’ll take the compliment.
When it’s Dallas’s turn to shoot, I enjoy watching his muscles flex under his dark shirt, and I catch myself fantasizing about taking it off later and running my fingers over every ridge.
We spend the next two hours shooting every gun Pete brings us, trying out different types of ammo and interactive targets. Then we do the same with an array of rifles, and just for extra fun, we try out a crossbow.
“Are you relaxed yet?” Dallas asks after I slip my ear protection off.
“Thoroughly. I could use some dinner soon.” I rub my palm over my growling stomach.
“Let’s order something and have them bring it to your place,” he suggests.
“That sounds amazing.” I wave Pete over, letting him know we are done. He and Ginger come over and start cleaning up after us as we leave.
We use the elevator to go up to the third floor where the restaurant is located and order our food at the front and tell them to bring it up to my apartment.
As soon as we are back in the elevator, Dallas asks the question I’m sure has been burning on his tongue. “Are you ready to tell me why you snapped at Ginger earlier?”
“I told you, it’s unprofessional?—”
“Cut the crap, Nat,” Dallas shoots. “Tell me the truth. Were you a little jealous?”
Ugh! “No,” I lie, jealousy still lingering in my chest as I think about Ginger’s dainty fingers on Dallas’s arm. “Fine, maybe a little bit. Only because we’d literally just kissed, and I was confused.”
“Confused?” Dallas lifts his hand, touching his chest above his heart as if I just hurt his feelings. He scrunches up his face into a pained expression to drive home the point.
“Can we just skip this and move to the part where you kiss me again?” The elevator stops and the door slides open into my apartment. As I wait for a response, we step inside, heading for the living room.
