Page 42 of Give Me a Shot

He shook his head.

“You’re not like that,” he said softly in his rumbly voice.

Jess needed to get away from him. He was being far too sweet, and she was responding to it far too much. But she wanted to address the other night.

“I, um…about—”

She was cut off by a loud crash from the open garage doors of the shop. Her knowledge of auto body shops was nil, but she was sure that a car on one of those raised contraptions shouldn’t have two wheels in the air and two on the ground.

“I better see to that,” Mo said, eyebrows furrowed as he looked back at her.

“Yeah,” she said, opening her driver’s-side door and getting in. She adjusted her seat. “I’ll find a way to repay you, or at least show my appreciation, but it won’t be chocolate chip cookies.”

He tilted his head, looking like a big, confused puppy.

Stop thinking like that!

“No cookies?” he asked.

“Mo!” a voice called out from the shop. He didn’t turn, his attention still on her.

“You’re not a fan of chocolate,” she said.

He looked completely taken aback but didn’t say anything.

She started the car and rolled down the window.

“See you at the School?” she said once she’d carefully backed out.

“See you,” he said back, waving slowly, still looking very confused.

Chapter Eleven

Jess

The next day, after pulling into the very busy parking lot at the Folk School, Jess got out of her fresh-smelling, nicely running car and grabbed her compound crossbow and gear bag. She’d checked the schedule before leaving and saw that there was a blacksmithing class that morning, but it was being taught by Rick, the other instructor, not Mo. All the better because she was there to get out of her head a bit and wouldn’t have been able to do that with him around. She couldn’t help but glance through the open door of the smithy as she passed it. Her heart stopped beating and her stomach dropped.

There was just enough space between two students for her to have a clear view of Mo at the front of the room, standing beside one of the fire-things, the flames in it roaring, Mo holding the end of a thin piece of metal he was heating up. He removed it, turning to take it to an anvil. Jess took a half step, craning her neck to see what it was, but couldn’t. Mo brought his hammer down, and Jess no longer cared about the metal. His forearms, corded and veined, shone as they flexed with his effort. Her breath caught. His forearms had drawn her attention when he’d picked her up, but this was an entirely different category of sexy. She caught a glimpse of his biceps straining against his dark green T-shirt and the intensity of the look on his face, the control…Her heart snapped into overdrive as she gasped.

Go.

She swiveled quickly—too quickly—and rushed out to the range, set up a target, and got suited up. With shaky hands, she pulled her hair into a high ponytail.

Stop it, stop it. That’s exactly what you’re not supposed to be thinking about right now.

She stretched her hands.

Time to get out of my head.

—

She needed a break after the first twenty minutes, which greatly irritated her. Even with the reduced need for effort due to the construction of the bow, her arms and shoulders were screaming. As she paced back and forth, she windmilled them and stretched her neck from side to side, pushing the Mo images out of her head. She thought about stopping but hadn’t been there long enough to make the drive worth it.

At least the pain has me more in my body than in my head.

After picking up the bow again and loading it, she grimaced but decided the pain wasn’t going to stop her. She had targets to kill.

—

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