Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
I don’t think I quit smiling for the rest of the evening, and when I go to bed that night, I sleep very well with the reenactment of that simple kiss playing over and over in my dreams.
Chapter 17
Quinten
“Is that something else you learned with Jude,” I tease Hayden.
She bites the corner of her bottom lip as she blinks up at me.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re counting your breaths as you shoot, and you pull the trigger on every third exhale.”
“I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing.”
“You were fully in the zone. It’s good to see. You’ve come a long way.”
My eyes stay on her mouth. I had apologized Saturday for kissing her without warning, but more than anything, I regret not kissing her harder, longer, with more intensity. I regret walking away before knowing what her hair feels like tangled around my fist, or what her tiny body feels like pressed against mine.
I nearly groan when she licks her lip before answering. “I’ve had a great teacher.”
“I think it has more to do with you being an excellent student.”
“Is that so?”
Her cheeks begin to turn pink when I push a lock of hair off her cheek.
I’m thirty-five damn years old, and this woman makes me feel like a boy with no flirting skills. I swear I’ll dig a hole and bury myself if something ridiculous like aw shucks slides out of my mouth.
Flirting, I know how to do. I’ve done it before with a very high rate of success, but picking up a woman in a bar and actually wanting to spend time with someone outside of the bedroom are two very different things. I don’t just want to score with Hayden. I want to spend time with her, talk to her more about her life and her childhood. I want to make plans with her and sit on the couch and watch reruns on the television. I want Saturdays filled with plans, and lazy Sundays in our pajamas. Shit, when did I let my mind start making all those plans?
I’d say after that kiss on Saturday, but two weeks ago at the grocery store, I found myself wondering what her favorite ice cream was while I was deciding between yogurt and sherbet.
“Did Parker just decide she’s too good for class?”
She frowns, her joyous smile falling from her beautiful face with a speed that would challenge the fastest car on the road. And just like that, I manage to ruin the light flirting I was able to manage.
“She said she had to work.”
“Well, I’m glad you’ve made every one. What do you say to—”
“Mr. Lake, can you help me? I think it’s jammed.”
Regretfully, I turn away from Hayden and go help one of the other women. I am still teaching a class after all, but in less than an hour, that duty will be over, and I can put all of my focus exactly where I want it to be.
Every second I spend helping the others in class goes too fast. Unlike the time at work that drags so slowly I question the clock on my office wall more than once a day. Being with her in the same room and still being several yards away from her, the time ticks away too quickly. Our time together is coming to an end unless I can find the courage to ask her to go out with me again.
She’s had my phone number for the better part of a week, and not once has my cell chimed with a text or a call from her. Maybe I wasn’t specific enough in telling her that I wanted her to call just to chat, and that she should feel free to use it at any time, day or night. Stupidly, I specified if there was a problem.
When the women in class begin to trickle out and leave, I’m fairly confident in their abilities to shoot safely. Before today’s class started, I gave them information on Adam’s class that will help them go from beginner shooters to ones with steady skill. Many of the women signed up for that second class.
I smile when I see Hayden lingering, taking her time to use the ammunition allotted from today’s class. Eventually, she’s the very last person left in the room, and I walk toward her with confidence, standing to the side until she empties her magazine and sets the gun down. She slides the target back in our direction, and there’s proof of her improvement in the tighter clusters of shots on it.
“See? You’re doing amazing.”
She’s beaming when she looks at me.
“Did you sign up for Adam’s class?”
She shakes her head. “I’ll continue to shoot some after work, but I tend to do better when the room isn’t so crowded.”
“Understandable. So I was wondering if you’d like to—”