Him and his stupid, sexy, grinning mouth. And biceps. And dear god, those leg muscles…
Focus!
I swallow, move my thumb along the barrel of the gun like Nate showed me earlier, and grin victoriously when I find the small raised lever.
“Ha! Found it.”
“West, you—”
“Shh! I’m concentrating. You don’t need to baby me, Nate.”
An amused sound rattles in his throat. “Whatever you say.”
I ignore him, mouth twisted in a smug smile as I press the button to release the safety.
…Which makes it really freaking embarrassing when the magazine drops out the bottom of the gun and clatters to the cement floor.
Perfect. Justperfect.
I didn’t hit the safety at all. I hit the clip-release button.
“Frack!” I yell, stomping one bare foot against the cement. I yank the shooting glasses from my eyes and toss them onto the booth.
There’s a choked sound from my side. I turn in slow motion, eyes narrowed, and find Nate watching me with a strange, strangled look on his face.
“Okay… so maybe I need a little more practice,” I admit warily.
At that, he loses it completely.
Chapter Twenty
I’ll never look at a damn chocolate
chip cookie the same way again.
Nathaniel Knox, whose sweet tooth is more
inclined toward brunettes than brownies.
Laughter bursts from Nate’s mouth — loud, roaring laughter. The kind that makes you bend at the waist and clutch your knees and gasp for air. The kind that makes your eyes tear and your stomach hurt.
I want to laugh too — because evenIcan admit my abysmal show of marksmanship is pretty funny — but I can’t take my eyes off him. Not yet. Because watching Nate laugh has to be the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my twenty-three years and three hundred sixty-three days of life on this planet.
“Stop laughing at me!” I protest, setting the useless gun on the booth. “Or I’ll shoot you.”
That threat just makes him laugh harder.
“I hate you,” I inform him sweetly.
“No you don’t,” he gasps, straightening to full height again.
“I do,” I say, stepping closer. “I really, really,reallyhate— Eeek!”
My words are cut off when his hands shoot out from his sides and pull me into his chest. I watch as the laughter dies out of his eyes, replaced by something else. Something that looks a lot like lust.
“What did you just say to me?” he asks, voice intense.
I feel breathless, pressed against him so tightly. All the air has been forced from my lungs, like I’ve just run the Boston Marathon and his arms are the finish line.