I reached up to touch her chin, running my thumb over her bottom lip. Despite her bravado, her mouth was trembling, like she might cry. Like she was afraid. “I never asked you to give your dreams up, Cricket. I never would. I only asked to get to know you. Are you really willing to go through your entire life never being with anyone just so you don’t risk hurting them? Are you so afraid of repeating your mother’s legacy that you’d spend your life alone?”
She shrugged with one shoulder, her eyes blinking sadly. “If I’m alone, I can’t hurt anyone.”
I shook my head. How could she be so blind? By pushing others away, she was hurting herself. And she didn’t deserve that. She deserved to be happy. To be loved. I wasn’t exactly a romantic guy, and I wasn’t suddenly going to start spouting sonnets or anything, but everyone wanted love. Even a cocky asshole like me.
“Come on,” I said, standing up from the couch. I held my hand out to her. “It’s Saturday, and it’s gorgeous outside. Let’s take a break.”
She nervously tapped her finger on the edge of the photo, but then asked, “Where are we going?”
“It’s a secret. And it’ll be fun. I promise.” I wiggled my fingers in a come hither motion. “We’ll go someplace we can blow off a little steam.”
If I hadn’t been staring right at her, I would have missed the way her eyes flicked toward the bedroom before settling on the hand held out before her.
“Do I need to change?” she asked.
I grabbed her hand, pulling her to standing. “Nope. You’re perfect just the way you are.”
***
Paintball Junkies wasn’t too far from campus. I wasn’t sure how Harlow would react to the idea of a paintball range and shooting at targets. I thought she might not be interested, but when she realized what the place was, she got excited.
“I’ve always wanted to do this!” she squealed, nearly strangling herself getting out of the car because she forgot to undo her seatbelt.
“Slow down, Cricket. The targets aren’t going anywhere.” I reached down and undid the buckle for her. She quickly climbed out and rushed around the car to my side, shifting from foot to foot while craning her neck to look around. I shut my door and reached for her hand. I was surprised when she let me hold it.
The crunch of the gravel under our feet and the crisp warmth of autumn sunshine felt normal, like we did this all the time together.
I pushed open the door to the pro shop, and it was just as I remembered, an old trailer converted into a store with a battered counter where the register was located and a fuck-ton of camo hanging from the walls. Everything was camo—helmets, pants, jackets, hoods, gloves—even the guns. There was a stack of Paintball Junkie shirts displayed behind the cashier, and those were the only spots of color, other than various shades of green, in the entire space. I stepped up to the register, glad that I didn’t know the cashier and that he seemed not to recognize me. I needed all the help I could get in keeping a low profile. With every article I saw, I felt the media closing in on me, my anonymity becoming more precious.
“We need to rent some equipment,” I said.
The guy set aside his magazine, pushing his tongue in the side of his cheek where it looked like he had a wad of chewing tobacco. The coffee mug in front of him that was full of dark brown slime was a dead giveaway. “Beginner?” he asked.
“Yeah. We only need one gun and a box of ammo.”
He got what we needed and then spent a few minutes showing us how to operate the gun. Once he was satisfied we had the basics down, he gave us directions to the practice range, warning us to not wander into the War Zone, the area where competitive games were held. Grabbing our things, I took Harlow’s hand and we headed out to the target range.
Harlow insisted on going first. The first thing I noticed was that she was trigger happy. She was like Rambo. Only with really bad aim.
“Have you ever done this before?” she asked, closing one eye so she could focus on the target.
“A few times back in high school. It’s been a while.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall of the booth, watching as she bit her bottom lip in concentration. She pulled the trigger, and the paint exploded against the edge of one of the human cut-out targets.
“Did you see that? That was a total kill shot.” She jumped up and down in excitement, and I had to push the barrel of the gun away to avoid taking an accidental shot to the face.
“Easy there, Cricket. I need both my eyes, you know.” I took a glance toward the target as I relieved her of the gun. “Nice shot. You killed his funny bone.” She punched me in the arm, and I laughed, keeping the gun out of her reach. “My turn. You’ve burned through nearly half the box already.”
She sighed, but switched places with me. “Fine.”
I spent the next five minutes punishing the bullseyes on each of the targets, causing Harlow to huff in annoyance.
Just as I was about to hand the gun back over to her, a guy decked out in camo from head to toe walked over to us. He had goggles hanging around his neck, a gun slung over his shoulder, and a utility belt filled with ammo around his waist. He also looked like he’d spent the last three years avoiding showers and playing video games in a dark basement.
“Hey,” he said. “We just had two buddies no-show for our game today. Want to fill in?”
“I don’t think—” I started
“What kind of game?” Harlow asked. “Do we get to shoot stuff?”
I shook my head and held back a laugh. I’d created a monster.
The guy was several years younger than us and desperately trying to grow facial hair. His chin looked like a dog with mange. He gave Harlow a strange look. “Capture the flag.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said. “This is her first time at a range. She’s not ready for a game yet.”
Harlow crossed her arms and glared at me. “You don’t have to play, but I want to.”
“Look,” the guy said. “I need someone with good aim in the back defense area.” He looked at me. “I saw you shoot. You’d be great. You won’t even have to do too much. If she wants to, she can stay close to home base and protect the flag. She can do that, right?”
I shook my head.
“Yes!” Harlow said, ignoring my silent protest. “I’m so good at capture the flag, I used to play when I was little.”
The guy looked at her as if weighing how badly he wanted to play if he was saddled with Harlow as a teammate. Finally, he said, “You can play if he does.” He jerked his head in my direction, and Harlow turned toward me giving me the sexiest version of sad-puppy-dog eyes I’d ever seen. Her bottom lip was pushed out in a very non-Harlow way.
“Please? I promise to be nice to you for the rest of the night,” she offered, pressing her palms together in a begging motion.
I raised an eyebrow suggestively. “How nice?”
Her mouth twisted in exasperation. “Regular nice. Please?”
“Fine,” I agreed. “But you owe me. And I want more than regular nice.”
She waved me off and turned to the guy. “Yes, we’ll play. Do we need to rent another gun?”
“I have some extra gear and equipment I can loan you guys. The suit might be big on you, though,” he told Harlow. His eyes raked over her skin-tight clothes, and I stepped forward to block his view.
“Thanks, I appreciate it.” I didn’t like the idea of letting Harlow play with a bunch of horny teenagers, but I also didn’t have the heart to talk her out of it. Today was the first time since Vegas that I’d seen a glimmer of laid-back, fun Harlow again.
“I’m Darryl.” He held out his hand, and I took it. I might have squeezed a little harder than necessary when I returned the shake.
“I’m Lawrence,” I said. “And this is Ethel.” I jerked my head toward Harlow.
He didn’t even flinch at our names. “Nice to meet you. Meet me at the entrance in ten. I’ll just go get the gear out of my car.”
After he lef
t, Harlow started to giggle. “Lawrence and Ethel? What are we, a 1950s sitcom?”
I grinned. “There’s nothing funny about paintball, Cricket. The first time you get hit, you’ll see just how unfunny it is.”
She waved me off again. “Stop being a worrywart. I’m not breakable.”
I lifted my eyebrow. “But you’re accident prone. Just try not to shoot yourself, okay?”
She punched me again, but was laughing as we walked away to meet Darryl and his buddies.
***
I was right. There was nothing that could make Harlow unappealing to me. She was dressed in one of Darryl’s camo outfits, pants legs and sleeves rolled up multiple times, but she was still hot as fuck. She pulled the hood over her head and face, and then slid the goggles on.
“Oh my God,” she muttered. “This hood smells like gym class.”
“That’s called teenage boy. He’ll probably be jerking off in that thing later tonight, remembering your face was in it.”
She groaned as she pulled it off again. “You’re disgusting.”
“But also right.”
Darryl called us over to our home base where our flag was located, and then he and his two friends laid out our battle plan. Basically, Harlow was guarding the flag, and they were hoping that the fact she had tits would be a distraction for the other team…basically banking on the other guys not wanting to shoot a girl. I was the first line of defense, hanging back close to help guard Harlow. Darryl and his buddies, Bobby and Mickey, would go after the other team’s flag.
Fine with me. I didn’t trust any of these morons with my girl, and I also wasn’t itching to get shot up with paint bullets either. Those fuckers left painful welts.
Darryl quickly listed the rules for Harlow, explaining that the winner was the team who was able to get the opposing team’s flag back to their home base.
“We’ve got $150 riding on this,” Darryl said to Harlow. “Don’t let them get our flag.”
She rolled her eyes in the way I loved. “Just worry about getting their flag back here first, and we won’t have a problem.”
Darryl frowned. “Right. Well, that’s the goal.”
“I know. You just told me.”
Poor Darryl. Clearly, he wasn’t used to girls busting his balls. He stalked off.
“I hate when guys talk down to me,” Harlow snapped.
“What about when guys go down on you?” I asked.
She scowled.
I lifted my hand. “I volunteer as tribute.”
Her scowl dissolved into a grin and she shook her head. “You saw that movie?”
“What? The Humper Games? Yeah. Great porno.” She made a sound in the back of her throat that was supposed to be one of annoyance, but was more like a mating call for my dick. Just like everything else she did. “Here, let me make sure you’ve got that ready.” I stepped forward and checked her gun to ensure it was properly loaded. I stood close enough that I could smell the sweet scent of her pear-infused shampoo, or whatever the hell that bottle had said. Yeah, I totally snooped when I was in her bathroom. Unfortunately, I hadn’t found any other surprises like Buzz. Either she had hidden everything else, or was probably as sexually frustrated as I was.
I stepped close to her, lifting the gun strap over her head and one shoulder. My hand might have accidentally brushed the side of her tit when I was settling the strap across the middle of her chest. She put her hands on her hips and twisted her expression into one my mother used to give me when I was caught stealing cookies out of the pantry.
“Really?” She glanced down at her chest where my hand was still resting against the swell of her breast.
“Make sure you don’t let these babies get hit,” I told her. “That would be a crime.” I winked at her, and she bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to not smile.
I was annoyed when I heard Darryl calling for us all to get into place. I just wanted to have Harlow all to myself again.
We all stood around the home base, holding onto the rail, waiting for the sound of the horn to begin the match. Seconds later, there was a loud blaring sound and Darryl took off with Bobby and Mickey, darting behind shields as they entered the War Zone. Soon we could hear the sounds of shots being fired, but had no idea how things were actually going.
I peered around my barrier but couldn’t see or hear anything. Underneath all the camo, I was sweating.
When I looked back over my shoulder to check on Harlow, I saw her pacing back and forth, her gun held high and aimed forward. The barrel was swinging around, and she was throwing poses like she was an old west cowboy. I shook my head and laughed at how fucking ridiculously cute it was. That girl had no sense of self-preservation. She was like fresh meat hung out for the lions.
“Get back,” I hissed, waving her toward her shield.
“Don’t be so bossy,” she hissed back. “They’re not even close.”
The sounds of more gunshots and shouts started to get louder, so I turned my attention forward again, looking for any motion. I saw a blur of color flash between two barriers, but I was too slow to get a shot off. I lifted my gun, pointing it at the shelter, and waited for whomever it was to peek around the edge. I didn’t know whether he was friend or foe, but I wasn’t going to risk letting him get close to Harlow. She might think this was all fun and games, but that’s because she’d never had a welt from a paintball bullet.
Behind me, a gunshot rang out, and I flinched. The sound was followed by a howl of pain. And surprisingly, it wasn’t mine.
“I got you! I got you!” Harlow yelled.
I turned around to find a guy right behind me, bent over and muttering obscenities.
Holy shit! Had Harlow just saved me?
The guy slowly uncurled, bellowing and cursing, and I could see a paint spot that looked like it was dead center on his crotch. “I’m on your team you fucking idiot!” he yelled. He lifted his goggles and angrily tossed them, along with the other team’s flag, to the ground. He was still growling and clutching his groin. It was Bobby. And he was looking at Harlow like he wanted to murder her.
Honestly, I couldn’t blame him. If someone shot me in the dick, I’d be ready for blood too.
But this was Harlow. My Harlow.
He took a menacing step forward, so I pushed away from my spot to stop him before he did something I’d have to break his face for. Another gunshot rang out, and I felt the impact of a paintball as it exploded between my shoulder blades.
Fuck! I arched in pain, feeling as if I’d been stabbed in the back. I looked over my shoulder to see a guy dart behind the other side of the wall I’d been behind. Fucking stupid. I’d been so worried about Harlow and Bobby that I’d forgotten all about that asshole. I reached over with my left hand to where I’d gotten hit and flinched. Goddamn! The shot had been close range, and it hurt like hell.
“Mickey and Darryl were down. I was the last man standing. I had the fucking flag,” Bobby growled at Harlow, oblivious to the fact that I’d been shot. “And because of you, we just lost. You owe me fifty bucks, bitch.”
When I noticed Bobby take another step and lift his gun to aim it at Harlow, I forgot all about my pain.
Harlow put her hands on her hips, undeterred that there was a gun pointed at her. “Don’t call me that. It’s not my fault I didn’t recognize you. Everyone is wearing camo, and you all look the same! Besides, we can still win. I haven’t been shot yet.” She moved toward the flag as if to pick it up.
“I can fix that.” Bobby took another angry step forward, keeping the gun trained on Harlow. I was just able to push her behind me when he squeezed the trigger. My hands were still up in a defensive position when the paintball hit me square in the chest.
“Fucking asshole!” I yelled, my hands instinctively going to my chest. It felt like being shot with a thousand rubber bands at once. I was pissed that I’d gotten shot, again, but I was furious that the little jackass had tried to shoot Harlow in retaliation.
I tosse
d my gun to the side and then threw my shoulder into Bobby’s stomach, taking him to the ground. He flailed underneath me, shoving the butt of his gun into my chest, punching me with his free hand, trying to land a shot on my jaw. I fisted the front of his shirt in my hands and pressed him into the ground, rage making my vision hazy. When I pulled my arm back to throw a punch into his face, Harlow was there, holding my wrist.
“Don’t,” she said firmly. “He’s just a kid,” she muttered under her breath.
Fuck. She was right. I shook my head to clear the anger. That was all I needed—to get arrested for kicking the shit out of a minor. The media would have a field day with that.
I wrestled Bobby’s gun out of his grip and then threw it to the side. “You’re a fucking dick,” I told him, shoving him back to the ground as I pushed to standing.
“Let’s go,” Harlow said. She was looking toward the maze, and I followed her gaze to see a bunch of figures running toward us, darting between the shields and barriers.
She grabbed my hand and pulled me away from Bobby, and then we were running toward the parking lot. We left a trail of Darryl’s clothes as we went, and Harlow was holding back laughter the entire time, watching me stumble as I tried to pull the camo pants over my shoes. I glanced back over my shoulder once to see that Bobby was surrounded by a group of people, gesturing wildly, trying to explain what happened.
We rounded the building and ran across the parking lot to my car. We quickly buckled up, and as I reversed out of the parking spot, Harlow finally let her laughter free. “Talk about blowing off some steam. Lawrence and Ethel are troublemakers,” she said.
Before I put the car in drive, I reached over and wrapped my hand around the back of her neck. She didn’t resist as I pulled her into a quick kiss.
“Thank God,” I said when I pulled away and looked at her. “You still smell like you. I was afraid you’d smell like Darryl’s jock strap.”
My comment earned me a punch in the arm, but it was worth it because she kissed me again. Just a quick one, but it was on purpose.
Hitched (Hearts of Stone Book 2) Page 14
