Page 45 of One Wrong Move

“Mm-hmm. I know. Bad idea.”

“Terrible. If you miss the target now, I’ll know you don’t really want me to live with you any longer,” she teases.

I lift an eyebrow. “Moment of truth.”

“Yup.”

“What’s the question you want to ask me?”

“I can’t tell you unless I win,” she says.

I take a step back and reach for my bow. Weigh it in my hand, and with it, my options.

But as curious as I am, her safety sways the balancing act. And living with me is safe. Driving her back to some godforsaken-cardboard-box of an apartment, in the same city but light years away, isn’t an option.

So I walk to the target and pull out the arrows already embedded in my bullseye. “Got to make room,” I throw out to her over my shoulder.

She chuckles. “You’re that confident?”

I am. Because for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m playing to win with stakes that actually matter.

I line up. Pull my shoulders back, draw the bow. Breathe in… release.

The arrow hits the bullseye.

I exhale softly. “Look at that. You’re my roommate for a while longer, Harper.”

That’s when the first raindrops fall. The sky opens up, and the soft drizzle quickly turns into a downpour.

Harper laughs. “I can’t believe you made that shot. When did you do this last?”

“I was fifteen, I think, so… twenty-three years ago.”

“I hate you,” she says again. But she’s already lifting her bow to shoot again. “Teach me how to hold it steady again.”

I look at her determination, at the gentle smile on her lips, and the way her hair is already darkening from the rain. And she doesn’t care at all.

Grinning at her, I step in closer. “All right. Like this…”

She shoots a few arrows in a row, hitting the middle ring most times, and once, the outer circle. But her shots are steadier now.

The rain is pelting my face, dripping off my jaw. Rivulets run down her forehead and across her cheeks.

“It’s raining,” I finally inform her.

Harper turns to look at me. Her smile is wide, and it hurts to look at. “Are you afraid of a bit of water?”

“No. But I think everyone else is.” I glance around meaningfully at the now completely deserted shooting range.

“They must think we’re crazy,” Harper says.

I retrieve all of my arrows and glance at her, where she’s doing the same. My hands still tingle from when I touched her just a few minutes earlier. “Upset?” I ask her.

She looks at me and gives a tiny shrug. “No. I’m not too proud to admit that you have a beautiful home. The bed is divine, the water pressure… It won’t be hard to live there for a full month.”

The words make my lips twitch. “Good.”

“But I am puzzled.” She pulls out the final arrow from where it was embedded deep in the hay bale. “I wish I’d won the right to ask that question.”

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