Page 86 of Right Number, Wrong Man
He needs to stop this, or rather, I need to stop. Later, I’ll text Jax and set up a date so he can fuck those strange thoughts out of me. That’ll fix me. It has to.
Colt raises his index finger. “Rule one: always assume a gun is loaded. I got the mag in my back pocket, you still gotta pull back the slide to check there’s no round in the chamber.” He drags the top part of the pistol back with a click. “You watchin’?”
I point at my eyes, then at the gun. “Duh. What else would I be looking at?”
Certainly not the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh. Or that dimple on your cheek. Or how the muscles in your forearms bunch.
He lets out a small chuckle. “Rule two: be mindful where you point your weapon. Choose a safe direction where an accidental discharge won’t hurt yourself or somebody else. Usually that’s the ground, a bit ahead of your feet.”
My brows quirk. I’m starting to enjoy the lesson. This stuff is pretty interesting and Colt is a decent teacher when he’s not talking down to me.
“Rule three: Before you shoot, make sure the area around your target is clear. That’s easy here and now, but in a stressful situation, you can forget about this rule. If some asshole tries to hurt you, it comes down to a split-second decision. It’s you or him, and I don’t want you to hesitate. I want you to shoot that motherfucker first and ask questions never. You understand, Spitfire?”
I grin. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good gi—” He coughs. “Sorry, had something in mythroat. I meant to say good.”
Huh, I thought he’d like me calling him sir. Acknowledging his authority should be right up his arrogant alley.
“Only put your finger on the trigger if you’re ready to pull it or you could fire a shot by accident. Rest your finger on the trigger guard here instead.” He points at a strip of metal in front of the trigger. Then he holds out the pistol, grip first. “Show me what you learned.”
I swallow thickly as I take the weapon from him. It’s heavier than I thought, but warm from Colt’s hands, and his comforting heat flows into me, almost like he’s touching me.
Get a hold of yourself, girl! I don’twanthim to touch me. This is just a self-defense lesson. I need to smoke out my brain with sage because only an evil spirit could’ve put those ideas in there.
My palm wraps around the gun’s handle and my index finger rests on the trigger guard. I keep the muzzle aimed at the ground.
Colt’s voice is low and gravelly when he whispers absentmindedly, “Good girl.”
My legs turn to jelly. Did Colton Walker just hit me with agrowledgood girl?! How is a red-blooded woman supposed to focus on gun safety like this? This isn’t even panty-safe!
He slides a finger along the side of the weapon. “This is the safety. If you’re ready to shoot, you gotta turn it off and cock the hammer, but not yet. The proper stance is important, too.”
He steps behind me, and my heart vaults into my throat. His chest presses against my back, his tall body curving over mine and my pulse hammers so hard I worry he might feel it. He’ll assume I’m nervous about shooting, right?
WhatamI nervous about, though?
With shallow breaths, I inhale his spicy, woody cologne as his strong arms reach around me. He adjusts my grip and I marvel how large his rough hands are.
A throb pulses between my legs before instant terror winds through me, constricting my chest. Teacher Colt giving instructions in that firm, calm tone is too sexy and my body can’t help but react on instinct.
His fingers glide tenderly over mine. “Both hands on the gun, thumbs forward. Slide this hand up the backstrap… That’s right, ‘til your palm is up against that curve below the hammer.”
I’m paralyzed, hyperventilating, leaning into him for balance. I have no clue what’s wrong with me today and I hope Colt won’t notice, but of course he does.
“Don’t be scared,” he says, his breath flitting over my ear, sending a tingly rush through me. “I won’t let you get hurt. Whenever you need me I’ll come runnin’, and that’s a promise I’ll keep until my dying day.”
Until his dying day?
“Why would you do that?” I blurt out.
Colt stiffens, but he doesn’t let go. He’s still pressed against me and I’m damningly aware of every inch of his body touching mine. It’s as if tiny zaps of electricity course between us, pebbling my skin and turning my nipples into hard peaks.
“I mean uh—cause you’re my brother’s widow,” he says quickly. “Like I told Dad, it’s my family duty to protect you.”
A cool emotion I can’t define spreads behind my ribs. “That’s… nice of you. Thanks.”
A long break thickens the air. Finally, Colt’s fingers twitch against mine like he remembered that we aren’t standing here basically hugging for the fun of it.
