Page 12 of Give Me a Shot

My skills?

Everyone was looking at her expectantly, pleasant closed-lipped smiles on their faces. Except for Mo. His arms were still crossed, his chin still tucked. But his expression was less wary and more resigned.

“I…I’m not sure I understand,” Jess said, returning her attention to Wendy. “How would my skills be a big draw if Theo will already be consulting? I can provide historical accuracy due to my research, but if he already has Faire experience, I’m not sure what I can add.”

“Oh, don’t be so humble, J. C. Anderson,” Doug said, waggling his finger at her.

The breath flew out of Jess’s body. Doug was smirking at her. She narrowed her eyes back.

“How do you know my competition name?” she asked.

“A little bird told me,” he said, looking even more satisfied with himself. Other than raising an eyebrow, Jess remained perfectly still.

“Okay, fine,” he said. “Ned mentioned that you were a competitive archer when I asked about you. I like to learn about new students.” He grinned.

The brief flash of irritation at losing some degree of anonymity waned but didn’t go away. She hadn’t told Ned not to mention her competitive experience, but she knew she’d never told him what name she competed under.

Wendy was looking back and forth between them.

“You didn’t ask her directly?” Wendy asked.

“Google is more efficient. Even though it took a little digging since she didn’t put that name on her information card.”

He turned the laptop around so that it faced the table. A photo of Jess taken during the World 3D Archery Championships filled the screen.

The hairs on Jess’s arms went on end. Warmth flooded her neck and into her cheeks as she took a breath to tell this guy off.

“Again, Doug?” Mo growled low before she could speak. Doug jumped.

“Yes, again?!” Wendy snapped, turning on him. “My office when we finish here; do you understand?”

Looking chastised, Doug nodded and turned the laptop to face himself again.

“Jess,” Wendy said. “I’m very sorry. I understood that NedtoldDoug that you were a competitive archer. That’s why I thought you could help us with the Faire. An archery show starring someone of your caliber could draw huge crowds. From well beyond Detroit.”

Jess’s stomach dropped through the floor. She gulped and glanced around the table again. Everyone was looking at her. Except for Mo. Arms still folded tightly, eyebrows furrowed, his gaze darted from person to person, before falling to the table a few inches in front of him. He shook his head almost as imperceptibly as he had when they’d been introduced. After a quick sigh, he looked up at her. His eyes seemed almost apologetic.

“A show?” she asked. She remembered watching the shows a bit when she’d gone with Cassie, but they’d been about entertainment mostly, not skill. Archery was a sport for her, not…an act?

Doug scooted to the edge of his seat and leaned toward Jess a little. Her irritation with him was still high enough that she needed to stifle a lip curl.

“Here’s the thing,” he said. “We don’t want people to just come visit and look around. Archery and blacksmithing are dazzling. Therefore, you two will be the public faces of the Faire.”

Jess looked at Mo just as he snapped a glare at Doug.

“Me?” he grunted sharply. Jess admired his commitment to keeping his arms crossed. It seemed to be his default position. But now his intimidating biceps were flexing. He cocked his head to one side as he narrowed his eyes.

Doug flashed him an anxious grin before returning his attention to Jess. He took a breath to speak, but Mo cut him off.

“Wendy?” he grunted again. “Publicface?” He continued glaring at Doug until Wendy looked up from the notepad she had in front of her.

“We don’t have to decide who exactly is the face of the Faire today. Or even next week,” she said.

“Rick exists,” Mo said.

“He does,” Wendy said. “And he’s a great blacksmithing teacher. But the two people with the most accolades would draw in more fairgoers and even potential students.”

Remaining still in his seat, Mo slid his gaze to Jess. She barely concealed her shock at finding an anxious teenager hiding in his eyes. The thought to ask if he was okay bubbled up but before she could, his gaze shifted away, and his face slid back into a mask screaming “back off.” Just before she looked around the table, she caught Mo dragging a hand down his beard. The others were very occupied by their phones, or their own notepads, or they seemed to be counting the ceiling tiles. She took a deep breath and shook out her buzzing fingertips.

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