Joanna Wayne - Point Blank Protector

“My dad built it years ago so that he could teach his kids to shoot in a safe environment. Unfortunately, he died before I was old enough to handle a gun.”

He climbed out of the truck and Kali followed suit, walking to the front fender to get a better look. “Do you always hit the bull’s-eye?”

“Not always, but I’m never far from it.”

“Well, don’t expect that from me,” she said. “I can barely see the target much less find it with a bullet.”

“I’ll pull it closer. That’s what the cable’s for. Accuracy at close range is what you’re looking for anyway—until you take up hunting.”

Which would be never.

Zach walked to the back of the truck and opened the large metal toolbox. “Aidan left some police targets here last time we had a little competition going. They should be perfect for our purposes.”

He held up his find, and a hard knot settled in her stomach. The targets were tri-folded cardboard cutouts of a man’s body with markings for the brain and the heart. Hit the mark, take out a life.

She backed against the truck. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this, Zach.”

“You need to be able to protect yourself if you’re going to live out here.”

“It seems so…so deadly.”

“That’s the point.” Zach shrugged. “But it’s up to you.”

Up to her, and she’d never had any desire to pull a trigger. Yet she’d gone for that shotgun quickly enough when she’d feared the killer might have returned to the scene of his brutal crime. And what if he had? Or if he hadn’t run the other night? Suppose he’d been waiting when she opened the door?

A gust of wind tousled her hair and blew it into her face. She raked the wild strands back and tucked them behind her ears. “Don’t guns make you even a little nervous?”

“Only if one’s pointed at me. I grew up with firearms. It’s just the way it is out here. Not that we have much crime, but a well-placed bullet can stop a copperhead in its tracks or protect a young calf from a predator.”

Copperheads and predators. She was definitely starting a new life. This was no time for her to wimp out.

“Okay, Zach. I’ll give it a try.”

He nodded. “We’ll start slow, let you get used to the gun in your hand. Then we’ll cover safety and get in a little target practice. Don’t expect to master this in one day. You’ll need practice to become accurate.”

“I hope I’ll never have to depend on my shooting ability to protect myself.”

“Speaking of protection…”

He hesitated, and her nerves grew taut. “Yeah, go on.”

He propped a booted foot on the truck’s front bumper. “I’m going to say this straight out, Kali, not to frighten you, but just because it’s how I feel about it. I don’t think you should stay alone on the Silver Spurs until the man who abducted and killed Louisa Kellogg is arrested.”

“The sheriff said there’s no reason to think he’ll come back to the ranch.”

“That’s a nice, sensible assumption. I wouldn’t stake my life on it.”

Zach left it at that and walked over to attach the target to the cable. The heels of his boots crushed the dry leaves and rustled the grass. His head was high, and he looked as if he owned the world. He did own his world.

She was the imposter here—a rancher wannabe. But her dream of raising horses had miraculously fallen into her hands when her grandfather had left her the Silver Spurs, and she’d do whatever it took to survive and prosper—even if it meant learning to shoot.

And she’d do it without falling again for Zach Collingsworth— or for any other sexy cowboy who waited in the wings. Ranch first. Romance a distant second.

ZACH SHOULD BE getting ready for a night spent seducing a gorgeous artist. Instead, for some reason he hadn’t quite figured out yet, he was sitting on the hood of his truck drinking a beer with Kali and watching the water in the creek pummel the rocks that blocked its path.

“Look at that unusual squirrel,” she said. “He’s watching us.”

“That squirrel is a weasel.”

“It’s adorable.”

“From a distance. Don’t try to pet or pick one up. They’re not nearly as friendly as they seem once they sense they’re cornered or captured.”

“He’s still cute.”

“Didn’t you see weasels when you visited your grandfather?”

“Not that I remember.”

“How come you never came back after that one summer?”

“My dad and my grandfather had a serious falling out right after that. I don’t think they ever spoke to each other again. I’m not sure about that, though, since my parents divorced when I was in eighth grade. Dad got transferred to the West Coast and started a new life. I didn’t see him much after that.”

But still her grandfather had left her the ranch. There had to be more to that story than she’d said.

“There’s a deer,” Kali said, pointing to a small white-tailed doe that had stepped into the clearing and was staring at them through soft brown eyes. “She’s absolutely regal.”

Zach swallowed hard, moved more than he wanted to admit by Kali’s reverence for the animal in its unspoiled habitat. She reminded him a bit of the deer. Cautious. Curious. Vulnerable. Sexy—well not the doe, but Kali.

He was definitely attracted to her, but he had the feeling that getting involved with her would lead to complications. He never liked complications or longevity in romantic relationships.

“I can’t wait to explore the Silver Spurs on horseback,” she said. “I hope I have lots of deer.”

“You will.” He swatted at a persistent horsefly that had taken a liking to his neck. “Did you know ahead of time that your grandfather was leaving you the ranch?”

“No, I was stunned at the news, but he didn’t actually leave it to me outright. The Silver Spurs only becomes fully mine if I live there for a year,” she explained. “Otherwise it goes to Hade Carpenter. He’s the son of Grandpa Gordy’s third wife. I never met her, but her son is an arrogant clod. He’s fought my taking possession of the ranch with months of legal haranguing.”

“I’ve run into Hade a time or two over the years,” Zach said. “Once when he was in Cutter’s Bar trying to pick up one of the local women. Your description of him is a lot more suitable for mixed company than mine would be.”

“Another beer or two and I’d tell you what I really think about him,” she said. “But not today. It’s getting late, and I still have cleaning to do.”

Zach shifted for a better look at Kali as he took another swig of his beer. “You don’t seem the type,” he said, voicing the thought as it popped into his head.

Her eyebrows arched. “The type to drink a beer outside in freezing weather?”

“It’s not freezing. The low tonight is only going to be in the low forties. And there’s never a bad time for a cold beer.”

“Is that why you keep them in a cooler in the back of your truck?”

“Always be prepared.”

“A Boy Scout, too.”

“Not me. Little League was the extent of my organized participation.” He reached over and knocked away a small black bug that had landed in her flyaway auburn hair. The strands felt as soft and silky as they looked. “You don’t seem the type to move out to a ranch by yourself,” he said, going back to his original statement.

She stretched and leaned back on her elbows, her gaze fixed on the clouds that floated above them. “What type do I seem?”

“The type who’d hook up with a guy right out of college and have a couple of kids, a dog and two hamsters in the suburbs.”

“An interesting pigeonhole. But not for this pigeon.”

“Horses are your thing, huh?”