Inevitable Detour (Inevitability Book 1)(49)

When Farren straightens, there’s a gun in his hand. He’s loading it. “That’s exactly why we’re here,” he replies.

Pointing over at a badly shot-up cactus, I say, “We’re not going to shoot at that poor thing, are we?”

“One, among many,” Farren quips.

“Oh,” I reply.

He glances over at me from where he’s loading a cartridge into another gun—a .45. “Trust me, Essa, they won’t feel a thing.”

“But they look so wounded already,” I protest.

Farren chuckles amusedly. “Babe, we’re a little limited on targets out here. Do you have a better suggestion?”

I shield my eyes from the blazing sun with my hand and scan the area. There’s nothing but cacti and rocks. “Nope, I guess they’ll have to do,” I conclude.

Farren hands me the .45 and says, “Let’s go see what kind of damage you can do, Essa.”

Minutes later, Farren is behind me, his hard body pressed to mine as he steadies my grip on the gun. “Pick out a spot,” he says softly into my ear. “Then squeeze the trigger gently.”

It’s a little hard to concentrate with Farren so close. It makes me think of the many times over the past few days when we’ve been this close. Closer even, and gloriously naked, joined as one. A delightful shiver runs through me at my recollection.

I smile and lean back into Farren. I know he’s smiling, too. He’s probably thinking the same thing as me.

Still, ever focused on my lesson, he urges me to pay attention. “Concentrate, Essalin,” he says.

“I am,” I reply, and then I pull the trigger.

I hit my target—a tall saguaro—dead center, at the exact point I was aiming for. “Wow,” I mouth.

“Shit,” Farren mutters under his breath. “I think you may be a natural.”

I nestle back into him and close my eyes. He feels so good. “I did okay, then?”

His mouth at my ear, he whispers, “You did better than okay, sweetheart.”

His low, sexy voice and his masculine scent distract me. I lower the gun and turn to him. “Can I tell you something, Farren?”

He nods once.

“It’s kind of bad,” I warn as I lower my chin and look up at him through my lashes.

“All the more reason to tell me,” he replies huskily.

In a husky voice of my own, I say, “I am so turned on right now I can barely concentrate.”

He sighs, lowers his lips to mine, and kisses me gently. When he pulls back, he says softly, “Later, Essa.” I groan, but he holds resolute. Turning my body so I’m once again facing the target, he says in a serious voice, “Right now, I need for you to learn how to protect yourself. I don’t know what we may encounter before this is all over. I want you to be ready for anything.”

Now, I’m certain things aren’t going as smoothly as planned. There must be some kind of trouble with Rick and Haven. That is why Farren has been so quiet the past few days.

I take the rest of my shooting lesson seriously, listening to and putting into action every single thing he suggests. And, like with my first shot, I remain surprisingly accurate.

“Maybe I am a natural,” I say to Farren when the shooting lesson is over and we’re packing up the car. “I think you were right.”

“I usually am,” he replies lightly.

I roll my eyes and mutter, “You are so cocky.”

With a chuckle, he finishes placing the guns in the car.

When he hands me the keys, I say, “Are you sure? I was only teasing earlier. I don’t have to drive.”

“But you want to, right?”

“I do,” I admit.

“Then it’s settled,” he says.

As we drive back in the direction of the Blue Cactus Inn, I pay no heed to any posted speed limits. I’m too busy enjoying Farren’s amazing car.

Farren says, “Turn here,” when we’re a few miles from the motel.

“We’re not going directly back?” I question.

“Nah,” he says lightly, “let’s play a little; see what this thing can do.”

With that decided, we have a blast with the Ferrari. Each of us takes a turn opening it up on various empty stretches of pavement. By the time we pull into the motel parking lot, Farren and I are exhausted from our fun in the sun.

It’s twilight, and as Farren and I walk to our room—hands touching—under a muted blue-and-orange-streaked sky, it feels as if we’re the only two souls on earth. We’re sort of in a Farren-Essa zone, but the minute we step into the room, Farren’s burner phone rings.

Farren takes the phone into the bathroom for more privacy, and I flop down on the bed. Through the closed door, I hear enough to discern he is speaking with Rick.

When the call ends, Farren remains in the bathroom. The water starts up, and I hear him stepping into the shower. I could use a shower myself—I’m sweaty and dusty from our time in the desert—but I hold off on joining him. I know if I’m in the shower with Farren, we’ll get distracted.

I’m still smiling at that thought when Farren emerges from the bathroom, a white towel perched dangerously low on his waist.

I take a few minutes to admire him. He’s all damp skin, lightly tanned from the hot desert sun, and sharply defined muscles. God, he is unfairly gorgeous. And he’s mine…at least for now.