Page 45 of Cowboy Elite 2: Mike

Kenny had already set more cans. They looked like a little army of tin, all at varied heights.

Mike lifted the pistol and squared up. Two quick shots. Ping, ping. The cap leapt like a startled flea.

If Kenny was impressed, he didn’t say so. He just scratched his jaw and said, “You been practicing.”

“Little bit.” Mike’s eyes stayed on Liv. “Your turn.”

He put it back in her hands, set her grip again, molding her fingers just right, thumbs nested, his thumbs over hers for one heartbeat longer than was necessary. Her pulse tripped under his touch. He felt it. She knew he did. His mouth curved without moving.

“Don’t chase the first shot,” he said softly. “Let it settle. Then press again. Think press…reset…press. You’re not yanking a lawnmower cord. You’re ringing a doorbell.”

“I hate doorbells,” she muttered. “And I assure you I’ve never yanked a lawnmower cord. I live in an apartment.”

“Pick a metaphor you like.”

“Soft elevator button,” Heather offered.

“Pop it like bubble wrap,” Charlotte said, very serious.

“Bubble wrap,” Mike decided. “Do that.”

She exhaled. Front sight. Bubble wrap.

Press. The can danced off the rail and threw itself dramatically into the grass. She reset, press again before her heart could climb back into her throat.

The second can spun, surprised.

Her whole body sang.

“Dead eye,” Mike said with a grin. “Good job.” He took the pistol from her, cleared it, and set it on the open case. Only then did he touch her without pretense, both hands sliding up to rest lightly at her waist, not claiming, just holding her in the aftermath of recoil and noise and adrenaline. His forehead dipped to almost meet hers. Almost. He let the air between them spark instead.

“Not wimpy?” he asked.

“Not remotely.”

“You shaking?”

“A little.”

“Good.” His voice roughened, the smallest scrape of gravel. “Means you’re human. Also means you’re hooked.”

She swallowed. “On the gun?”

He huffed a laugh. “We can discuss…addictions later.” His thumb found the edge of her shirt and skimmed just once over the cotton before he retreated to safer territory. The look he gave her was anything but safe.

Kenny cleared his throat, the sound politely loud. “Just remember to keep your thumbs away from the slide, Liv,” he said, tone bland, eyes amused. “And, uh, kids are present.”

“I’m a kid!” Charlotte announced. “And I’m present! And I have stickers!”

She marched over, peeled off a glittering star, and stuck it dead center on Liv’s chest. Then she slapped a crooked heart onto Mike’s sleeve. “For help.”

“Do I get one?” Kenny asked.

Charlotte considered him like a general reviewing troops, then gave him a tiny gold circle near his watch. “There you go.”

Heather laughed and gave Charlotte a hug when the little girl trotted back to her side. Mike’s hand found Liv’s again. He leaned, brushed the briefest kiss to her temple, then stepped back into instructor mode like it had never happened.

“Reload practice?” he asked, all innocence.