Page 41 of Forbidden Romeo

She turns to me, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Do you shoot?” she asks excitedly, changing the subject.

I chuckle at her enthusiasm, enjoying the way her energy effortlessly pulls me away from my worries.

“A little,” I confess.

Aimee’s smile widens, her excitement contagious.

“We should play!” she suggests, already pulling me over to a stall brandishing targets and a few BB guns. Before I even have a chance to think about it, she’s handing over cash to the attendant and picking up the gun to hand to me.

“Show me how it’s done?” she says earnestly, and I can feel the tug of modesty as it wars with my pride.

I handle the gun carefully as if I haven’t been shooting these things from the moment I could hold up their weight. I take aim and let my instincts take over. The first two shots are off-target on purpose, but the final, I make sure goes right through the bull’s-eye. It earns me a hug and a kiss on the cheek from Aimee.

“That’s eighty-eight points! Congratulations, that’s the highest score of the day,” the attendant says as he retrieves my paper target. “Want to try it yourself, ma’am?”

Aimee looks a little nervous as she takes a gun from him. “I’m not sure…”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared?”

She raises an eyebrow at me. “Why would I be scared?”

Aimee turns back to face her target and hauls the firearm up to her chest, experimenting with her grip.

“I don’t know; it looks kinda heavy for you.”

“Oh, I see,” she says, closing one eye, then the other, staring down the barrel.

“See what?”

“You’re worried I might beat your score.”

I laugh at her, standing there with her shoulders relaxed, her feet square on without any regard for recoil. “I know you won’t beat my score.”

“Wanna bet?”

I can feel my smile stretch across my face. Little does she know just how much of a betting man I am.

“What are you offering?”

“What do you want?”

I look her up and down as if it’s obvious.

“What doyouwant?”

She pretends to think about it. “I want to know how many girls you’ve ever taken up to the king suite of your father’s hotel.”

Oh. This can’t end well.

“What makes you think I’ve done it before?” I inquire cautiously, trying to gauge her reaction.

“Your face just now.”

“Fine. If you win, you will get your answer.” I lean in closer. “But, if I win, I get to do whatever I want to you tonight.”

Aimee narrows her eyes at me playfully. “What makes you think there’s even going to be a ‘tonight’?”

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