Dakota Storm Page 18

  “Just out grabbing a bite?” Caroline asked, leaning her hip against the side of David’s booth.

  This time Misty couldn't hold back. The woman had strutted around David's house in next to nothing all week, practically acting like a cat in heat while trying to get his attention, and every honey-dipped word directed at him made Misty's blood boil. Jealous of Brandon’s date? Not at all. Jealous of Caroline? All day long. She hated the whole jealousy thing, yet she'd really thought she and David would have at least a small portion of the evening without her Royal Slutness bothering them. She'd been wrong. But she was about to rectify that. She opened her mouth to do just that, but David beat her to it.

  “We're on a date.”

  For a second or two, Caroline forgot to school her features, and what she truly felt was there on her face for everyone to see: shock and defeat.

  Knuckle bump! Misty felt a tiny bit bad for Caroline when her face fell like a flimsy house of cards. Another part of Misty was like checkmate, bitch.

  Yes, she had a hot streak of jealousy when it came to Caroline, but it looked like David might be getting over trying to play nice with her. About damn time. Sure, they were friends, but Caroline was pushing it, and he knew it. Everyone in the house knew it too.

  Within seconds, that smile of Caroline's was right back in place, and if Misty knew her at all, that meant she was checking the board to see where she could make her next move. “Y’all kids have fun. I'm meeting Tucker and a few others to play some darts.”

  “Have fun,” Misty chirped. Then, while keeping her bitch-gaze tuned right on Caroline, Misty tugged a piece of steak off her fork with her teeth, wearing a smile straight from hell. She wasn't stupid. Caroline was going to pull something to ruin this date, and she wanted to get a little dig in before the fireworks.

  Caroline practically snarled at her. “Matt's gonna be here soon to play some darts. Does he know y’all are on a date?”

  Nice try, slore. Her brother wasn't sticking to his whole stay-away-from-my-sister protective vibe. The only thing he’d said to her when he found out she was going out to dinner with David was that they should take it a little slow. She wasn't a teenager, and he sure as hell wasn't her father. “Maybe we'll join you.”

  “That'd be fun,” Caroline said, turning to leave. “Hey Brandon,” she purred, waving the fingers on her left hand as she left. He waved back, too polite to snub even the town slut. The blonde turned slightly in the booth, took a sip of her wine, and gave Caroline the once-over above the rim of her glass, her pinky sticking straight out in the air.

  Somehow Misty had a feeling the night was just beginning. Unless...“You want to get out of here?”

  David looked as though she'd just offered him the moon. “Hell yes.”

  David cranked the volume on the radio in his new truck and rolled down the windows so they could hear the country music. He chucked his plaid shirt onto the driver's seat, figuring he'd be more comfortable in just his T-shirt, and set his hat on top of it. He made sure the headlights were illuminating the area around them, then shut the door and made his way to the homemade gun range he and Misty had just put together. Nothing fancy, just a hay bale sitting in front of a dirt mound they’d found in a grazing field. He’d ripped a page out of a notebook he had in the backseat and stuck it in the middle of the hay bale.

  “This is much better than fielding people at the Roadhouse,” Misty muttered. She pointed the .45 at the target and closed one eye.

  The night sky was gorgeous above them. Out in the country, without all the city lights dimming what God had created, the twinkling stars were bright and plentiful. Crickets chirped, and the temperature hovered right around seventy. Perfect—just like the woman he was finally with.

  In some respects, it felt like he'd never left. How many times had they, along with Matt and Abby, snuck out of the house, if only to do a little midnight fishing? This felt a whole lot like that. For all intents and purposes they had snuck out of the Roadhouse.

  He could barely see the town's flickering lights from where he stood, or the giant white elevator and water tower that dominated the Garner skyline. He'd grown up with that panorama all his life, and also with the woman who stood there aiming his gun, looking both cute and deadly. Hell, that was every country girl in the United States. They’d bow their heads and pray in the pews on Sunday, and the next thing you knew, they’d knock you upside the head the next morning.

  He was thankful they were sharing this time together, but there was a lingering wall between them. No longer built with brick, but it was there just the same.

  “Well, you're gonna need to remember how to shoot when your brother gets word we went on a date. I'm sure Caroline's told him by now. I'll need protection,” he joked.

  She turned to him with the loaded gun in her hand. “I already told him we were going on a date. Did he really—”

  He grabbed her forearm and pointed the gun back at the target and away from his crotch. Now he knew how those drill instructors felt on their first day in the field. Half the city boys hadn't known the difference between a gun from their dick. They'd pointed their rifles everywhere but at the targets. But Misty should know better.

  He recalled Misty and that old rifle of hers she’d used for hunting. Though he was still surprised he'd come home safely after hunting with her, she should remember the basics of handling her weapon. “Loaded. Keep it pointed that way. You remember what I told you about the safety?”

  She nodded. “You really think Matt cares?”

  Matt didn’t give a rat’s ass. At least Matt hadn’t said anything to him. “I’ll tell you what. You shoot the paper in the middle of the hay bale and I'll answer any question you throw at me. And remember, forty-fives have a nasty little kickback.”

  She looked damn adorable, standing there barefoot in her little white dress and pointing a .45. Her toes were painted a bright pink that matched her fingernails.

  The breeze was gentle and the heat of the day had receded, leaving them with a well-deserved reprieve. He couldn't have envisioned a more perfect evening, and he wouldn't want to spend it with anyone else. The thought jarred him, but he was beginning to get accustomed to the way he thought about the two of them. And now that Brandon was out of the picture, there wasn't much guilt to his thoughts.

  “Remember what I told you. Don't hold the gun too tight, and gently pull the trigger back. Don't over-think it.”

  She mumbled something he didn't quite catch, shifted her feet, and fired. The paper didn't move. She made a sad face and said, “This is so different than shooting a rifle. I’m not sure I like it.”

  He laughed until she swung the gun around in his direction again. “Remember it’s loaded,” he said quickly, and she pointed the barrel toward the ground. Lord, he should have gone over the weapon a little more before he handed it to her. “Didn’t your dad teach you how to shoot a handgun?”

  “No. Just a rifle. It's easier to shoot a rifle 'cause you can anchor it against your shoulder.”

  “This is a semi-automatic,” he said, taking it from her. He felt safer in a matter of milliseconds. Holding it in his left hand, he pointed to the side of the weapon. “Once you load and cock it, you just pull the trigger and it's ready to go over and over until you run out of bullets.”

  She tilted her head. “You don't have to pull this thingy back again?”

  “No. And no matter if you think a gun is loaded or not, you don't point it anywhere but to the ground. Remember what I told you. Finger off the trigger unless you’re ready to fire.” How many times had he said those very words to her when they'd been out hunting? She’d slung her damned rifle around like it had been a military drill rifle, no longer equipped to kill.

  She looked up at him with those big teal eyes of hers. Gave him a small smile. “So I don't get to ask a question?” she asked softly.

  She was trying to flirt her way to a question. Now that was definitely the Misty he remembered. He smiled and leaned down as t
hough he was going to kiss her or whisper something to her, and then shot her down with a loud, “Nope. And my turn.”

  The smile dropped off her face. “That's not fair! You know how to shoot that thing.”

  He was still laughing when he said, “How about I stand farther back? I shot an M16 rifle and a nine-mil the past four years. I haven't touched a forty-five in ages. The Marine Corps didn’t issue us forty-fives in Afghanistan. I'll stand back twenty-five feet to your fifteen.” That was pushing it, but he did want to square the odds. He had a few questions of his own he wanted answered.

  “I suppose.”

  “Unless you want to play strip shooting? Something akin to strip poker. I hit the target, you remove—”

  “Is that a military thing?” she asked, completely serious.

  He laughed again, feeling better than he had in weeks. “No,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I just made it up.”

  She made a face. “You would think of that. And no.”

  “Questions it is,” he said, taking his stance about twenty-five feet away. Damn, but he wanted to know what made her change her mind about him and agree to go on this date. She'd been avoiding him for days. Well, not exactly avoiding, but not initiating anything besides polite conversation. He'd thought that would have changed when she kicked Brandon to the curb, but it hadn't much, and since she'd just broken up with Brandon, he hadn't wanted to push. Of course, it could have had something to do with Caroline’s appearance that first night she’d arrived too. Lord knew Misty hadn’t been thrilled at seeing her.

  He took his stance, dropped his shoulders and relaxed into it, stared down the sight, and slowly pulled the trigger. He lowered the weapon, a grin splitting his face. “Nailed it.”

  “As if you weren't.”

  “You've been skirting around me for days,” he said as she walked up to take the gun. “What made you say yes to going on this date with me?”

  She took the gun and looked up at him, the barrel of the gun pointed toward the ground. His balls thanked her. “That was the first time you asked me to dinner.”

  “That's not an answer. You've done everything in your power to avoid me since I came back. And now that you've been staying with me, you haven't sought me out once.” She hadn’t even talked to him when she’d been sitting on one couch with her laptop, and he’d been on the love seat watching TV. They chatted a bit at meals, but that was about it.

  She smiled, her gaze falling to his lips. “Maybe I was done batting away your olive branch. Maybe I wanted to go on this date as much as you did.”

  She didn't allow him a comeback but went to stand where she'd been standing before. He stood back, anxious for his next turn. Going from zero to sixty where they were concerned stumped him. Done batting away an olive branch? When she'd returned to his place the day after the tornado, he'd known she was interested, until Caroline mucked everything up. But damn, Misty shut herself down after that night, and truthfully, he hadn't thought he'd had a snowball's chance when it came to her once again.

  He wondered if she'd ever hit the target. It would be interesting to know what she'd like to ask him. She took her time, shifted a bit, then fired. Damned if she didn't hit the paper.

  “Okay. I have to think up a good one because I might never hit the target again.”

  He was surprised she hadn’t hit it the first time. Whenever they'd practiced with the deer targets in the fields, she'd been a damn good shot, but that had been a rifle and not a hand gun. Hell, every year since she’d been of age and had a tag she’d brought home a decent sized buck.

  As she stood there, gun in hand, cute white dress, biting her lip, he wondered how he could ever have left. Being kicked out of his house aside, if put in the same position today, he'd live under a damn bridge if he had to. “Well?” he prodded.

  “Hold on, let me think.” She was really thinking hard, staring at the ground, the only sound being the crickets in the fields surrounding them. “Okay. I want an honest answer. Seriously. Have you ever slept with Caroline? I... I won't be mad. I just really want to know.”

  The hell she wouldn't be mad. She’d probably shoot his nuts off, but he let that go. “No. Never.” His answer was immediate and forceful. Best to shut that shit down right now. He doubted this was going to be the last time he fielded this question. She—along with most people in town—had come to the conclusion that he’d slept with Caroline, and he doubted anything he said would make them think otherwise.

  “You swear to God.”

  “I swear on everything holy in this universe.”

  “Have you ever thought about it?”

  He was going to tell her that she'd have to hit the target again to ask him another question, but he wanted her to know he didn't want Caroline in any way. Never had, never would. They'd been friends and friends only. It was Caroline's reputation that made everyone think they'd slept together. Fact was, when they'd hung out at her place and talked, he had a suspicion Caroline had never opened up to anyone about her life the way she had with him. She probably held a fascination with him because he'd never accepted her advances after those talks were over. “No. I haven't. Now that's two questions. Give me the gun.”

  “You might as well just ask the question and save the bullet.”

  She was right. He hit the paper again and immediately turned and asked her, “Do you miss Brandon?” Probably a wasted question, because she’d already said she didn’t have feelings for him back at the Roadhouse. But she sure had checked out the woman Brandon had been with, her gaze roaming over his date as though she’d had to give the police a description by the end of the night.

  Shit was getting right serious down in this field. She looked a little shocked at his question but didn't shy from it. “No. Isn’t that horrible?”

  Not for him it wasn't. “Your turn.”

  As she sauntered up and took the gun, he vowed then and there he was never leaving this one-horse town again. Yet when she stood and took aim, he was reminded that she was leaving, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

  Chapter 15

  Misty's hands were no longer shaking, but damn, she didn't want to miss the target. This was more fun than she thought it would be, but slightly nerve-racking in the same breath. It was kind of like they were playing with fire—or putting fires out. She'd surprised herself when she'd had the nerve to ask him about Caroline. Misty had been torn for so many years when it came to Caroline and David’s relationship that it would have taken a miracle to keep that question bottled up inside. One minute she’d swear to God Himself that David had been intimate with Caroline, and the very next minute she’d swear the opposite. Misty figured if they’d had sex, Caroline would have boasted about it by now, just like Abby had said, so Misty decided to believe him.

  Besides, he had never outright lied to her before. It was time to finally put that assumption about him and Caroline to rest and move on. Now she wanted to know something even more important.

  Back in the day when they'd gone hunting together, she could have shot the tail end off a deer. But this wasn't a rifle, and her arms felt like noodles. Unfortunately she was shooting like crap.

  Knowing she was a good shot, and that she just had to acclimate herself to the new weapon, she took her time. She relaxed into the shot like she'd watched David do, and slowly pulled the trigger back. The .45 had a kick to it, so she wasn’t super confident that she’d hit her target at all, but when she glanced at the paper, she saw that she'd nailed it. In fact, the paper was just floating in the air to land on the grass.

  “When did you get so good?” David asked.

  She smiled. Hell, she'd always been good.

  She hoped her question didn't set a bad tone for the rest of the evening, but she had to know. The question had bugged her ever since the day of the tornado. “You said you loved me all your life.” Same here, by the way. “Why didn't you ever ask me on a date?”

  Nothing but the unnerving quiet of the prairie. He glan
ced at the hay bale and the paper on the ground, then back at her, and looked at the ground around his feet.

  “Is it that complicated?” she asked. She knew the answer to that. Hell yes it was complicated. Looking at the two of them back in the day, you’d have sworn they’d been a couple. Only they hadn’t kissed. Hadn’t dated. Hadn’t crossed the thinnest shred of a line until that night in his Ford. For the life of her, she couldn’t really understand why. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t thought about him that way a million times after puberty had hit. And now that they’d started down this path, she figured he must have felt the same way. He’d said as much.

  “Just wondering where I should start. You were my best friend's sister, for one. For two, I was afraid changing my relationship with you would screw it all up. Afraid you'd say no. Chickenshit. Hell, I don't know. Obviously, in hindsight, I wish I had.”

  “What made you—”

  “Ah-ah,” he interrupted, wagging an index finger at her. “That would be one question only.”

  She'd always been a bit of a sore loser. Her brother refused to play Monopoly with her ever again. He'd stuck to that threat for the past seven years even though it used to be her favorite game. She wanted to ask David what had changed his mind that night in the pickup four years ago, but maybe it was a question best left unanswered.

  David took another piece of paper and stuck it in the hay bale. He stepped back until he stood his twenty-five feet away.

  It wasn’t a shocker when David hit the paper, but she enjoyed watching him shoot. There was just something about the way he stood and aimed at the target. His body was both relaxed and rigid all at the same time. Sexy. He'd taken off his plaid shirt, leaving only his T-shirt on, and there was something about the way his muscles bunched in his forearms that really got her going. His ass in those jeans didn't hurt either. Hands down, this was the best date she'd ever been on.

  When he turned to face her, she was a little nervous about what he was going to ask. He had a serious look on his face. His five o'clock shadow lent a hand to the whole country boy appearance he had going for him tonight, but also gave him a dark edge when paired with his tats.