That question has Ripley straightening her shoulders in no time. “Of course not.”
“That’s what I thought. Time to learn to shoot.”
Anthony went out after we were done eating and put targets up in all the usual places, including a few closer ones for Ripley to start with. Is that really part of his job as head of security? Nope, but he does it anyway because he’s a cool guy, even though he’s got his hands full with managing the rest of my security issues, including running down any and all possible threats that come through my e-mail and other fan mail. It’s not a small job. Apparently a lot of people think I’m an asshole.
Maybe subconsciously, that’s why I want to know Ripley can handle a gun. I’ve only had one crazy ass actually make an attempt to shoot me, but you never know what could happen with the whack jobs out there.
“Let’s make a wager. You hit three targets in a row before we’re done, and I’ll eat your pussy until you come three times. Hard.”
It’s not really much of a wager because I’m planning on doing it anyway, but Ripley doesn’t know that. She shifts in the deck chair I pulled up for her, and I bet she’s getting wet.
I love that, for the record.
“That way you’ll be all sweet and relaxed for me before I play with your ass.”
Her gaze darts to mine. “We’re ... you mean ... tonight?”
I wink. “We’re just getting started. Don’t worry, we’ll take it slow.”
She mumbles something under her breath, and it sounds likehow am I supposed to concentrate now?
“All right, watch me demonstrate.” After going through all the parts of the gun and showing her how everything works, including the safety, I hand her some ear protectors and start popping off rounds, causing four of the targets to spin.
Her eyes are wide when I lower the rifle and engage the safety.
“You’re good at that.” She yells the words because her ears are covered, and it’s really fucking cute.
I remove my ear protectors and lift hers off too. “Sugar, I’m as redneck as it gets. Just because I got money doesn’t mean I’ve changed who I really am.”
“I like that about you.”
It might not seem like much in the way of compliments, but it’s sincere, and knowing about Ripley and her past, it’s pretty huge to me.
“There’s a hell of a lot I like about you, Ripley Fischer. Now, it’s your turn. Put the muffs back on and get ready to kick some target ass.”
46
Ripley
“There’sa hell of a lot I like about you, Ripley Fischer.”
I swear, at least fifty percent of what comes out of Boone Thrasher’s mouth makes me want to jump him. How does he do that?
He even looks as sexy as hell shooting that gun, which is something I never thought in my entire life about another human being, even a hot actor on TV.
When I take the gun from him, my nerves ratchet up to red-alert levels. Ma and Gil were shot. They were both dead in minutes, the coroner’s report said.
“You okay?” Boone asks.
I snap out of my thoughts and back to the present.
“Yeah. Fine.” I know I’m yelling, but I don’t care. If I talk quietly, I can’t even hear myself.
Boone helps me position the rifle against my shoulder. I look down the sight like he explained, bringing the little metal part on the tip between the two metal pieces closer to me. When I’ve got a round orange target sighted in, I squeeze the trigger.
I jerk at thepop, but the target doesn’t spin like Boone’s did.
“You scared yourself. Anticipating the recoil. But now you know there really isn’t one, so you can calm down and nail that target. Got it?”