Falling (9 page)

After twenty minutes of lying in the snow to take pictures, I’m ready to get on the machine. I want to get these on my computer. I put the headphones on again and carefully wrap up my camera. All American Rejects starts to play, and I not only like Jason, but I like his taste in music. I start back toward the lodge and Jason keeps close by me. I’m a lot more confident now, and it only takes us a fraction of the time to get back.

I’m definitely not feeling as trapped out here as I used to be.

JASON

Holy Charlie’s Angels. I’m so Screwed.

I’m not sure if introducing Dana to my brothers was worth the eyebrow wagging and dirty texting that followed, but she definitely won them over with her photos.

I also don’t know if Dana’s talked to Craig since she got followed back from Palmer, and I don’t want to know. I’ve picked up the phone about a million times to call Taylor, but we’ll do the same run-around that we always do—Craig’s a great dad, and just needs to get this out of his system once in a while, and it’s worth it for when guilt takes over and he’s home all the time again.

I’m not into it. Also, I don’t hate Dana the way I want to, and that puts me in a shitty position. At least football’s on today. England and Brazil, and more than halfway through the game without a goal. It’s intense enough that I give up trying to do anything with writing this afternoon.

During the break before the final third, Dana steps into the living room wearing…almost nothing. Sports bra, and stretchy pants. It takes a great amount of effort to keep my eyes on the screen. She starts a series of crunches, and Boz’s jaw drops open.

“Come on,” I say. “You’re ruining the football game.” I gesture to the TV trying to sound annoyed instead of turned on.

“Shut up, Jason,” Boz says, his eyes focused on Dana. “How far down do the bruises go?”

“Oh.” She rolls to the side, and pulls her pants down toward her hip. Either she’s not wearing panties, or she’s pulled them down with her pants, because she’s exposed her stomach almost down to her…. Holy shit. I have to shift like four times and do some deep breaths to keep everything in place.

“And how
high
do your bruises go?” Boz’s concerned face is ridiculous.

Dana catches on, letting go of her pants, which slide back up. She backhands Boz on the knee. “I thought you were worried about me!” She plays it off well, though, and isn’t offended.

Probably she’s used to it.

“I
am
worried about you.” Boz looks serious. “Let me find my mask of concern…
I
t’s around here somewhere.” He sits up straight, closes his eyes and waves his hands in front of his face. When he opens his eyes, his face looks just like it did when he “noticed” her bruises. “How far down do the bruises go, Dana?” His voice is ridiculously fake. “Or how far up? Either is okay with me.”

“Aahhh!” I yell. “Enough! This is a place of
business
…”

Dana widens her eyes, and looks around the room to the obvious fact that we’re the only ones here.

“And,” I continue, trying to ignore her, “is there nowhere else you can be right now?”

“If you have a yoga mat, I’ll leave you alone.” She cocks a brow as she shifts her weight to one leg. “But this is the only place with carpet instead of the creaky hardwood floors.
”

“I have one you can use,” Boz says. “But you could still work out here. I don’t mind you interrupting
soccer
.”

“Okay, stop.” I hold my hand up. “Two things. First—” I glare at Dana. “You have corrupted Boz. I just, I mean
just
got him calling it football, football. And second—you do not want to use Boz’s yoga mat.” I’ve heard of Boz’s yoga mat adventures, and I wouldn’t touch the thing with a ten-foot pole.

“Why not?” she asks.

“You just don’t.” I hold in my smile.

“It’s just a mat…”

“He has sex on that mat.” I fold my arms, waiting for the shocked response she’s sure to show.

Dana laughs. “Boz? You fit on a yoga mat?”

“I can show ya if you want.” Boz’s eyebrows wag in a ridiculous show of invitation.

“Never mind.” Dana starts to wander from the room. “I’ll go for a walk instead.”

“Suit up and come with me,” I say. “I have a different idea.”

Teaching Dana to shoot seemed like a good idea until her eyes widened as I pulled out the handguns.

“Uh… I think you have the wrong girl, Jase. I didn’t grow up on
that
side of St. Louis.” And then she smirks at her clever joke.

“I just…” What was I thinking? “When I feel out of control, this makes me feel in control.”

“And why on earth do you feel out of control?”

“Maybe more that I got call from my soon to be ex-wife this morning and need to blow something up.” I try to make it sound like I’m joking, but Cass did call this morning. Hinted at coming to pick up her things, which resulted in yet another conversation where I had to tell her that nothing here belongs to her, and her getting pissy, and me wondering what the hell happened between us that we can’t even try to be friends.

Dana’s staring, and probably reading my desperate attempt at a joke way too well.

A wave of something serious passes between us. “Okay,” she says. “Hook me up.”

After a few minutes of picking out a gun for Dana to test out, my arms are around her, with our hands outstretched, as we hold the gun together, aiming loosely at the target. As I breathe in, the scent of her fills my head, and I’m wondering if I should have just let her do her workout in front of the TV instead of coming out here.

So far I’ve breathed her in, and told her more than I want to about myself, and right now I’m enjoying standing this close to her way more than I should.

The thing is, I don’t want to like Dana for a million different reasons. So maybe this is just a reaction to not being with a woman in… Well, a longer time than I want to admit—even to myself.

“Good, now you’ve cocked the gun and you’re ready to fire.” This should help get my head on straight.

“So, I just pull the trigger?” she asks.

I need to focus on the gun and the target, and not on the girl next to me so I take my arms back, letting her hold the gun on her own. “Pull the trigger until you meet with some resistance, then slowly let out a breath, keep relaxed, and squeeze until it goes off.” She still hesitates. “Think kick ass thoughts. Think Charlie’s Angels or something.”

She cracks a smile. “That I can do.” But as soon as the gun fires, she not only flinches but jerks her arms backwards.

“Whoa…” I rest my hands on her upper arms, lowering them back down. “Stay relaxed, look forward to the kick-back. Look forward to the sound.” I’m going to feel really stupid for bringing her out here if she shoots me by accident.

“Did I hit anything?” she asks, squinting at the target.

“Just the snow.” I chuckle. “Let’s
aim
for something this time.” I slide my hands up her arms like an idiot, and rest my hands over hers. “When you look down the top of the gun there’s two small white dots close to you and one at the end, do you see those?”

She nods and then shivers once.

“Okay, you want those to line up and your target should be in the middle of the middle dot. Does that make sense?”

“Okay. I’m relaxed and thinking badass thoughts.” She squeezes the trigger again, keeps her arms down when it fires, and I can tell by the look on her face that she’s hooked. “Check me out!”

“That’s pretty good.” I smile as I step away. She hit the corner of the target. “You keep going, and I’m going to get set up for myself, okay?”

“Okay.” She slowly gets back into the stance I showed her, definitely got a
Charlie’s Angels
thing going on, and I need to distract myself. Dana’s a million worlds away from me, and I’m in no position to start anything with anyone. On top of all that, there is absolutely no way she’s at all interested, and as far as I know, she’s still otherwise occupied. Which brings me full to circle to the many reasons I should not only not want to be involved, but should keep trying to hate her.

I get loaded up, and ready. “Don’t accidentally shoot me. I don’t have health insurance.”

“Got it.” She laughs, and finds her stance again.

I need some serious focus time. After closing my eyes for a moment, I drop to one knee, and blast through the whole magazine, each hit landing somewhere near the center of the target. I snatch my other gun, and do the same, continuing to blow shots through the middle of the bull’s eye.

“Wow.” Dana’s staring when I finish.

I keep my eyes on the target, and off her.

“I went through the FBI training academy. I wanted to keep my options open.” A few college friends and I went through on one of the sessions that the FBI occasionally does where they allow police forces to send people through. It was an incredible experience, but was enough to know that I never wanted to be in the FBI.

“Why are you
here
?” She’s looking at me like most people do. Like I’m just wasting myself.

“Because I want to be.” I slide in two magazines and put thirty more rounds into my targets.

“Better?” she teases. At the same time, just like she recognized the look on my face the morning I burned my hand on the stove, I’m recognizing the look on her face, and she’s impressed.

“Much better.” Though, I’m not sure if having Dana come with me out here was a good or a bad thing. “You’re more of an Alaskan girl than you thought you were.”

“What?” She’s focused on her gun until she finds the right lever, and drops the empty magazine out.

“The snowmachines, and then this.”

“Maybe I’m just good at everything I do.” She winks, laughs, and slides another magazine in, just like I showed her. “Maybe I
am
secretly one of Charlie’s Angels.”

She’s something.