Page 139 of Overcast

Throwing on some gray sweats and a white tee, I make my way downstairs and out the backdoor.

The sun warms my skin, blazing down on Emric as he aims and unloads his gun into the cream paper that is being held up by a tree. He lowers his weapon and stares long and hard at it, focused and composed.

It’s oddly fascinating and terrifying that this man can calculate a kill so easily. That he could flip said switch at any moment and take or protect a life. How dangerous and exhilarating that life must be.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he calls out, still studying his target. “You can come over here if you want to.” Pushing off the wooden siding, I walk to him as he takes that moment to glance over his shoulder.

I don’t miss the way his eyes skim down my front as he catches the clip that falls from the bottom of his gun.

“How did you know I was out here?” I ask him, breaking into my nervousness and clasping my hands behind my back.

I don’t want to exhibit that I’m fidgeting with them and nervous with being out here in his “element”. Where there are guns—a shotgun and two other handguns—lying casually out on a picnic table.

“I can feel your eyes all the time—” His lips quirk, tossing the empty clip on the wooden surface of the table. “—powerful suckers.” I scoff lightly, and he jerks his head to come closer. “Wanna learn?”

I shake my head violently. “No, no...I’m good.”

“Let me rephrase, you should learn. I’ll stand with you and show you the ropes. It’s easy.”

“No, thanks, I’m...super good.”

His lips heave higher. “Oh...I know you are, sweetheart.”

Screw how my face blazed earlier, it’s on fire right now. Like, heat of the sun hot, boiling to the point that my skin may just peel off.

Thankfully Emric doesn’t keep staring at me so I can watch him recall everything that happened between us last night.

We don’t need to talk about it.

I’m good with just letting it be a memory that I reminisce on for the rest of my life when I’m old with a bunch of animals and a crazy obsession with being the neighborhood watch or something.

“Do you normally shoot guns out here?” I recite, needing to change the subject.

“Yeah.” He studies his mini layout of artillery, contemplating. “If you shoot one clip into those trees over there—” He trails his focus back to me. “—I’ll make you dinner or something.”

“Do you even know how to cook?” My brows descend because I don’t think I’ve seen the man use anything other than a microwave.

“Sure can, smart ass, but I prefer to grill.”

“I don’t think I can do it.”

He perks a brow. “Why?”

“Because...I’d never be able to pull a trigger on someone.”

“You’d be surprised,” he counters, picking up another handgun. “Especially when your life is at risk.”

“I don’t plan on it being ever again.”

He frowns. “Right. Well, you can never be too safe.” He jerks his head for me to come closer. “I don’t bite yet, sweetheart, I’ll be right here with you.”

Yet.

Instead of standing around like a scared little kitten, I move, and he extends the handle of the weapon for me to accept.

“Safety’s on, it won’t go off.”

My whole body tenses, solid in place because I can’t hold that. “There are bullets in there.”

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