“It’s Christmas time,” Regan protested. “That means celebrating and eating too much food—not a shooting match!”
“I promise we’ll all eat plenty of food at dinner time after we shoot at our targets. Come on, it’ll be fun.” Mason dropped a kiss on his wife’s nose. The gang was spread through the Hall’s kitchen and dining room, cleaning up after the noon-day meal and discussing how to spend the afternoon. Mason had proposed a shooting contest. So far, Regan wasn’t buying into the idea.
Dan tried hard not to look at Sarah. Failed. He wondered if he’d exposed too much of his own feelings after their last kiss. When he’d told her he’d save the next one for later, she’d collapsed against the Hall and closed her eyes in what looked like utter defeat. He knew exactly how she felt. He too had longed for another kiss—for far more—but he needed to keep his head on his shoulders if he wasn’t going to embarrass himself. Sarah had made it clear she didn’t want a fling; she wanted something long term. He hadn’t even thought that far ahead. Newly out of the military with a business to start, he’d put off any thought of romance.
Now here it stood in front of him.
His desire was getting away from him. Twenty-four hours ago he didn’t even know Sarah Metlin. Twelve hours ago, he thought she’d be a fun fling. Then he’d started to consider her as a possible business partner.
Now he thought she could be more. Much more.
But that was crazy-talk. He didn’t know Sarah. He didn’t know what he wanted. Except to kiss her again. And again.
“What’s in it for the winner?” he asked aloud.
“I’ll tell you one thing; I ain’t kissing you if you win.” Mason shoved him good-naturedly as he passed with a stack of plates.
Dan grabbed an armful of condiments and followed him into the kitchen where he headed for the refrigerator. “Glad to hear it.”
“Winner gets a pass on dinner dishes,” Regan announced.
“And a kiss from his favorite lady under the mistletoe,” Mason added. “See? I learned something from you, Hemmins.” He stole another kiss from Regan.
“Who says it will be a he?” Ella said from where she was washing up at the sink. “I bet Sarah can outshoot any of you.”
There was a swell of masculine protest at this idea.
“It’ll be me and Mason,” Zane said. “We always win at target shooting.”
“Dan’s pretty good, though,” Mason said. “He might give us a run for our money.”
“My money is still on Sarah.” Ella smiled at her.
“You’d better stop betting on me. I’ve already cost you twice.” Sarah opened a cupboard and put the dish she’d just dried away.
Dan frowned. Was she so easily shaken up? He expected more confidence in someone of her caliber.
But when the targets had been set up in one of the empty pastures, and Mason had stamped a thick line in the snow for everyone to stand behind, Sarah’s confidence seemed to be back full-swing. “No bets?” she called out to him as she took up her position several paces away.
“I thought you were sick of losing them.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet. I’ll have you running those laps around the Hall before you know it.”
“Ooh, I’m scared, Metlin.”
“Three laps if I beat you.”
“That’s three kisses if you lose. And you will lose. Is that your angle? You want more kisses? You don’t have to suffer public humiliation to get them, you know. Just ask me nicely.” He puckered up and blew her one.
She put out her hand, pretended to catch it, crumple it up, toss it to the ground and step on it. “I’ll be happy if I never kiss you again, Hemmins.”
He only smiled. They both knew that was a lie.
“Practice round first!” Mason called out. “Is everyone ready?”
Dan looked down the line to make sure everyone was behind it. He could instantly tell who knew their way around a weapon and who didn’t. Those with any kind of experience were all looking up and down the line as well. Regan, Ella and a couple of the others had their attention on Mason, instead.
“The range is hot, folks! Commence firing!”
Dan took a handful of practice shots, confident he didn’t really need them. Target practice was a number one training priority; he wouldn’t have lost his ability in the last couple of weeks.
His attention was soon drawn to his right, however, where Sarah was taking a series of shots, each one carefully aimed. He squinted to see the results on her target and drew in a quick breath. She was a hell of a shot. Before he had time to process the information, Ethan’s voice rang out again. “Cease fire. Cease fire!” Dan automatically clicked on the safety, emptied the chamber of his rifle and left the action open, pocketing the cartridges and leaning the rifle against the pasture fence before heading downrange to check his target.
Sarah arrived at her target ahead of him. He read satisfaction in the set of her shoulders before she balled the paper up and stuffed it in her jacket pocket.
“Looks like some good shooting,” he said as she passed him going the other way. She shrugged.