Hell on Heels(28)

I waved to Farmer Don on his tractor, continued for another ten minutes to the back of the property, and slid the SUV into park.

“You’re paying for my dry-cleaning,” Kevin whined as he folded out of the passenger side.

I rolled my eyes as I walked around the car, lifting the latch for the back door. Sitting down on the edge, I grabbed my Hunter boots from inside and slid my bare feet into them.

He leaned a hip against the open door and watched me with little amusement. I handed him the earplugs, thrower, and a case of pigeons.

“Are you even listening to me?” he pouted.

Removing the Remington from its case, I grabbed a box of shells. “New hobby. Dry-cleaning. I heard you.”

I positioned my hearing protection over my ears and motioned for him to stand behind me.

He did.

He knew the drill.

“This place is so gross.” I could still hear him whining through my ear muffs.

I pumped the shotgun.

Bang!

Bang!

“Seriously, what is wrong with you?” he shouted, and I looked over my shoulder at him.

He shuffled awkwardly in his dress shoes, looking at the dirt like it just might kill him.

I put my back to him again.

“Dean’s back.” Kevin gasped, and I shouted, “Pull!”

He obliged, sending a clay pigeon into the air.

Bang!

I pumped the shotgun.

“I have a date with Beau, the most perfect man alive, next week.”

I heard a curse as he broke one of the orange rounds trying to put it in the thrower. “I don’t see why that’s a—”

“Pull!” I yelled, cutting him off.

Another clay pigeon came into my sights.

Bang!

“Shouldn’t you be happier about that?” His voice was louder to overcompensate for the earmuffs he was wearing.

Rolling my eyes, I pumped the shotgun again, but this time, a shell casing got stuck.

“I made out with his head of security.” My voice was edgy as the words came out like a growl.

“W-what?” Kevin gaped from his spot behind me.

Cursing, I pulled the now empty twenty-gauge from where it was stuck and pumped the shotgun again to load it.

“And then I slapped him.” I laughed.

I didn’t need to see Kevin to know he was smiling like a teenager watching reality TV. He loved to gossip almost as much as he hated when we went shooting.

“Pull!”

Nothing came into my line of sight.

“I said pull!” I hollered.

Three clay pigeons shot into the air.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

I was f*cked.





The coast was clear.

I half walked, half ran down the hall from my position at the stairwell, and didn’t breathe again until I slid the deadbolt closed on the front door to my apartment.

I was effectively hiding.

Dean hadn’t resurfaced at any point over the last six days, but that didn’t mean I’d stopped skulking around my building like a fugitive.

It was ridiculous and childish, but I didn’t care.

Dave had sent an email to all the tenants on Friday detailing the damage had been assessed, and work on the repairs would commence later this week. The crew would start with all the minor damage first, so those of us still able to reside in our units would be able to go about our usual routines relatively undisturbed.

Thus, my unit would be among the first to be worked on.

I’d reminded Dave that I wished to know all the ins and outs on when they chose to do the work on my ceiling, so I could find myself somewhere as far as Alaska, if not farther, to be gone that day.

I was grateful for the week’s reprieve, because despite my session with Doctor Colby and her encouragement, I still felt as though my emotions were too raw to be exposed to another assault.

I was gun-shy, and the coward in me wasn’t ready to grin and bear it just yet.

Besides, my date with Beau had finally come to fruit, and I was really quite looking forward to it.

He’d arrived home from the campaign trail this morning, and the first thing he wanted to do was see me. I’d be willing to bet that made me a very lucky woman, and quite possibly the envy of my entire office when Kevin announced it like the news over our staff meeting.

Kevin had been keeping a close eye on me since our trip to the farm and my subsequent divulging of the three men who’d surfaced in my life over a short period of time. It was appreciated, though his hovering made me nervous.

For once, I’d remained in my heels for the entirety of the day and kicked them off inside the entryway. Meandering to the kitchen, I hung my coat on one of the bar stools and dumped my purse onto the counter.

My apartment felt different since last week, for the first time since I bought it. It was a place that had always been mine, but now, something had changed. Sure, men had come and gone, but this was different. It was like my apartment had started to wear my scars as its own.

I found the notion of it unsettling.

I unzipped the back of my work dress, shimmying out of it as I padded barefoot to the bedroom, eventually kicking it into a pile of discarded clothing on the floor. My last meeting of the day had run nearly an hour and a half over schedule, and as such, I was seriously behind on getting ready. As in, my date would be arriving to pick me up in less than an hour. Which was hardly adequate time for a woman to get ready, while keeping her sanity intact.