“Don’t I need to learn how to load it?”
“I want you to get the feel of it first. I don’t fancy losing a toe or something more vital if you squeeze that trigger before either one of us is ready.”
She glanced at him, noting that the level at which she held the weapon was about the same as his private parts. The realization had heat burning her cheeks. For Davis Lee to lose any part of his lean muscled anatomy would be a real shame. He was one handsome man.
Josie forced her attention back to what he was saying.
“Just practice aiming for a bit.”
She lifted the gun, her gaze following the line of the barrel.
He tapped the small piece of raised metal at the barrel’s tip. “You can use the sight if you want, but that one is a little off. I learned how to shoot by aiming the gun as if it were my finger. You try it.”
She did. “That feels more natural than trying to line up the sight. Can you shoot faster using this method, too?”
He flicked his gaze over her. “How fast do you need to shoot?”
“Just asking.” If she were forced to shoot McDougal rather than cut him, she meant to fire as many times as necessary.
The thought of cold-bloodedly killing the outlaw just as he had killed her parents and William bothered her, but she refused to be swayed.
“I’ll show you how to load it now.” Davis Lee reached over and put his hand on top of hers.
She stiffened, her hand twitching beneath his. Her gaze flew to his face and she saw that his attention wasn’t on the gun, but on her breasts.
“Pardon me, Sheriff,” she said archly.
“Davis Lee.” A wicked grin spread slowly across his face as he held up his hands in mock surrender, his gaze dipping again to her chest. “You’re not gonna pull that blade on me, are you?”
“Are you going to give me a reason?” Her heartbeat kicked wildly against her ribs and she found she couldn’t look away from the heat of his blue gaze.
“I plan to tell you what I’m doing every step of the way. Don’t want to spook you and end up begging for mercy.”
She didn’t want to find his grin so charming. Or him either for that matter. She turned her attention back to the weapon. “Bullets?”
“Yessirree.” He slid six from his gun belt and dropped them into her waiting hand.
Again he covered her hand with his, this time pushing against a rounded part of the gun right above the trigger. A cylinder popped out, revealing six empty slots.
“Those chambers are for your bullets.” He plucked one from her hand and slid it in, indicating she should finish.
After she did, he clicked the cylinder back into place. “All right, you’re ready. Be smart. Until you’re going to use it, keep the gun pointed toward the ground or away from people. Now go ahead and see if you can hit one of those cans.”
Knowing that she stood in the same place where the McDougal gang had killed yet another person affected Josie’s concentration, but she tried to focus on the targets in front of her.
“When you’re ready, squeeze the trigger steadily.”
She did and the gun kicked, causing her to flinch. The bullet flew off into who-knew-where. “Oh, fiddle.”
He chuckled. “You’ll hit the target sooner if you keep your eyes open.”
“Oh.” She smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t realize I’d closed them.”
“It’s okay. You have to get the feel of it. That’s why it’s a good idea to practice.”
She nodded, biting her lip as she aimed again at the can. The slight breeze cooled her nape. The flutter of grasshoppers in the calf-high grass and the call of a hawk circling overhead shifted to the distant part of her mind.
She fired all six bullets and hit only air.
“Do it again,” Davis Lee said.
She loaded the gun as he’d shown her then brought it up and sighted the middle can. She didn’t flinch this time. At least she thought she hadn’t.
“You gotta stop flinching.” He pushed his hat back then resettled it on his head. “It’s no wonder you can’t see the target.”
She tried again. She had to learn to do this. Ian McDougal wasn’t getting away from her again. Still, she hit nothing.
Davis Lee patiently watched her reload and fire, over and over. “Don’t quit,” he said when she dropped her arms to rest them.
Her forearms throbbed. Who knew it took such strength to shoot a gun?
“You’ll get it,” he murmured. But half an hour later, he looked at her, looked at the cans sitting exactly where he’d placed them. “Can you see the targets?”
“Yes.” A blush heated her face. Why couldn’t she learn this?
He looked genuinely puzzled. “Are you concentrating?”
“Yes.”
“I guess this is gonna take a while,” he muttered.
She loaded the gun again, anger at herself growing in the place of her earlier determination. Maybe the lanky man beside her was the reason she was doing so poorly.
When he stood so close to her, she could smell the strong fresh scent of lye soap and a faint whiff of leather and horse. She didn’t know why he affected her so, but the man could make a painted lady nervous.
Josie tried to push away the overwhelming sense of his presence and focus. She fired, pausing between each shot to take aim. She hit nothing. “I see why it takes a lot of practice to become good with one of these things.”
“I’m assuming you’ve got better aim with that blade you carry.”
He offered more ammunition and she pushed the bullets into the chamber.
“Those are my last bullets,” he said.
“I need more!”
“I didn’t think it was gonna take this many.” He grinned.
She smiled up at him then looked away when she saw the smoldering interest in his eyes. Was he watching her with such fascination because he suspected her real reason for coming to Whirlwind? Or because he felt the same unsettling awareness she felt?
Gripping the revolver with damp hands, she fired until it was empty. She risked a glance at him, catching a pained look on his face.
“That’s enough for today.” He walked to the rocks and began gathering up the cans. The cans she hadn’t come close to hitting.
She waited in a patch of buffalo grass, unwillingly admiring the fluid way he moved, the broad hands that completely covered the cans. “Are you ready to give up on me?”
She held her breath. If he said yes, what would she do? Her skirt caught on a clump of grass and she tugged it loose.
Davis Lee started back toward her, holding the burlap sack full of cans. “It’s all in the practice—” He froze midstep. “Don’t move.”
“What are you—”
“Don’t. Move.”
She frowned at the hard command in his voice, freezing as he’d ordered.
“Snake. I must’ve stirred him up by moving those rocks.”
“Where?” A sudden crackling noise caused her