Page 69 of One Chance to Stay
“You’d be better off chopping wood with the cans nearby.”
My pride wounded, the only thing I could do was laugh. I might be a Mainer, but I was of the indoor variety. At this rate, Abraham would have me wrestling bears. I eyed Seamus. Okay, I had already done that.
I rubbed my shoulder. There’d be a bruise. “Okay, expert marksman, this is where you show me how it’s done.”
Abraham had to be older than Seamus. When he swung the rifle around, flipping the bolt and dropping in a bullet, he didn’t stop to stare down the sight. BANG. Repeat. BANG. Repeat. BANG.
The fence held three fewer tin cans.
“Show off,” Seamus said.
“Damn straight, son.”
He offered the rifle to Seamus, who took it. He went through the motions with far less showmanship than Abraham. When he brought the rifle to his shoulder, he took his time peering down the sight. His breathing slowed and the concentration on his face… damn, the gun made him even sexier. It reminded me of our first exchange.
BANG.
Another tin can was flipped into the air. Okay, so everybody but me could stop an army of empty cans from storming the homestead. I was about to suggest we head inside when Seamus pushed the rifle against my chest.
“I was going to say we should?—”
“When you hit your target.”
“But—”
“I said what I said.”
Should I be aroused by his bossy demeanor? My ski pants hid the obvious answer. I grumbled under my breath, taking the rifle. Seamus had a grin, and that only made me more determined. Our conversation the other night had felt like a breakthrough, but I didn’t imagine this gruff man would be flashing pearly whites like this.
Abraham got behind me. “Okay, let’s do this. And don’t go getting any funny ideas. I only have eyes for my son’s boyfriend.”
Firefly redefined the termfriendly. I raised the rifle to my shoulder, and Abraham rested a hand on mine. He corrected my posture and tucked in my elbow. This wasn’t his first time instructing. Had he been the one to show Seamus how to shoot?
“Ease the trigger. Don’t jerk.” He snorted. Yup, he was a dirty old man.
“Here we go,” I whispered.
BANG.
“Seventeen shots!” Abraham cried. “I can’t feel my fingertips.”
I didn’t want to confess I had been aiming for a different can. If it got us out of the cold and put a warm coffee in my hands, I’d take the victory. Sitting on the couch, Abraham had taken a seat in an oversized armchair. I had to admit, it felt awkward having another person with us. I had just begun navigating Seamus, and this presented a curveball.
“How did you two meet?” asked Abraham.
Seamus might have rekindled a friendship, but I bet it didn’t come with swapping stories about the guy he kissed behindclosed doors. I opted to keep to the facts and left out the scandalous details.
“Stupidly, I went for a hike when it snowed. I got lost and found his house. Not my smartest moment.”
Abraham tried to keep his face neutral, but I spotted the slight rise of his eyebrow. I held my tongue, leaving him guessing.
“I’d never have guessed he liked ‘em young.” My eyes went wide. He pointed and laughed. “Remind me to invite you to our poker games.”
Seamus came in with two cups of coffee. He handed one to each of us before vanishing again. I looked down. Black. If I asked for cream, I’m sure he’d tell me it’d put hair on my chest. I sipped so I could avoid Abraham’s devilish smirk.
“I’ll behave,” he said. “It’s Gladys and the Quilt Guild you need to worry about. This town gets a hint of romance and… you know.”
Seamus returned before I could respond. Holding a mug, he sipped his coffee as if it weren’t steaming. He took a seat in the other armchair. I hung on Abraham’s words, or at least one word in particular. Romance. We barely passed the ten-day mark, and neither of us discussed such a definitive word. Thanks, Abraham. My brain didn’t need more chaos.
