“Shiloh?” Luke called.
“Huh?”
“Where’s your head?”
Without thinking I answered, “I was wondering if nuns masturbated and carried weapons.”
“Come again?”
Shit.
Side note: growing up with three older brothers, no mother, a shitty father, and working in—as mentioned—a male-dominated field, I had a bad habit of blurting out stupid stuff. Blame my faulty filter. I cursed too much. I had a dirty sense of humor and a competitive gene that could get ugly when I lost. Not because I had a chip on my shoulder and had something to prove to my male counterparts. This was hardwired in my DNA as a result of growing up with three older brothers who were high achievers. I hadn’t worked out which one specifically was responsible for my overactive competitiveness.
So needless to say, my shitty performance in front of Luke didn’t make me happy. And now my minimal filter was on the fritz.
“Never mind. I spaced out for a second. Sorry.”
“Yeah, no.” Luke chuckled and my gaze went from the rock in the dirt I’d been staring at to Luke.
Boy-oh-boy, the man was good-looking. Strong masculine features that screamed he had superior genes and would one day pass them down to his kids, which would mean the mother of his children would not see herself in her sons or daughters but instead she’d be blessed her children looked like their father.
“I pulled to the left,” I told him unnecessarily, seeing as I missed the target completely and debris plumed to the left of the metal disk.
“You did,” Luke confirmed. “And I’ll tell you why after you explain to me why you’re wondering if nuns diddle themselves.”
“Diddle?”
“I already have an iffy rapport with the man upstairs. No way in hell am I saying masturbate and nun in the same sentence. That’s asking to be sent to the dark place,” he told me.
“And you came up with diddle?”
“Shiloh!”
“Sunny,” I corrected. “No one calls me Shiloh.”
“Woman, just answer the question.” He smiled.
Good Lord Almighty, he was hotter than Hades when he smiled.
“I’d rather not.”
“Yeah, I bet you wouldn’t.” He stepped away from his spotting scope still smiling which led me to take an unsteady breath as he closed the distance between us.
I lost sight of his smile seeing as I was on my stomach and he was standing at my hip. Even with my neck craned, with his height it was no use.
“You’re leaning on your left hip,” he continued and went into a crouch before he grabbed my hips and twisted them the way he wanted.
I bit back a groan as my bruised right side made contact with the hard ground.
“Normally I prefer dinner before the groping commences,” I quipped.
“Sunny. Sunny. Sunny,” Luke clucked. “That breaks my heart.”
“What does? That you can’t cop a feel until we’ve shared a meal?”
I’d lost my mind. What the hell was I doing flirting with Luke? I was flirting, wasn’t I? It’d been so long I couldn’t remember if I was doing it right.
“No, babe, breaks my heart knowing you’ve never properly been groped.”
That didn’t cause a tingle—it sent a thrill straight between my legs, which was way more dangerous than a tingle.
“I’ve been properly groped,” I said haughtily.
“Right.”
“I have,” I continued to defend myself.
I belatedly realized he was teasing and I was protesting way too much. Likely because I had a feeling he was right and I’d never been properly groped. If I had, I doubted I would’ve been able to give up sex without much thought.
“Maybe you’re right,” I grumbled stupidly.
“I know I am.”
I felt my eye twitch and I rolled to my side in an effort to engage in a suitable staredown.
“You don’t have to be smug about it,” I snapped.
Luke’s gaze traveled down the length of my body then came back to meet mine. Something flashed in his eyes before it cleared, but not before he shook his head in what looked to be like an attempt to knock his thoughts from his head.
“Roll back, Shiloh, and make ready.”
Crisp.
Sharp.
No more taunting and teasing.
Playtime was over and Luke was making that clear. I shifted back to my stomach, bent my left arm, wrapped my left hand around the dropdown of the buttstock, and pulled my Tikka tight against my shoulder. I lowered my face to the cheek rest, and finally, I ejected the spent cartridge out of the chamber and slammed the bolt closed.
Once I had my rifle cradled I took a moment to slow my accelerated heartrate—courtesy of sexy-as-hell Luke The Spotter. With an exhale I made ready.
“Call it,” I told him.
“Hold at six-hundred yards. Red target.”
Looking downrange through my scope I found the target.
“Yellow dot center. Number two low right corner,” I returned.
“Correct.” There was a pause then, “Get your hips right.”
Momentarily my mind flashed back to how his big hands had fit nicely…
Down girl. Playtime’s over.
I was grateful Luke couldn’t read my mind or see the wince when I gently eased my hips into the correct position.
“Ready.”
“Hold one mil right for wind,” Luke instructed.
I adjusted my aim, slid my finger onto the trigger, and on an exhale pressed.
The crack of the projectile leaving the barrel. Then the snap of the bullet, and finally the faint ding of bullet meeting steel.
“Center,” I belatedly called the shot.
“Good hit. Do it again.”
That was how the next twenty minutes went. All business. Luke calling targets, me shooting. Just as I was feeling good and relaxed my pager beeped and that was all it took for tension to suffuse my body.
I cleared the chamber, dropped the magazine, and double-checked my rifle was safe before I rolled to my side then sat up.
“Sorry, I gotta run. Call out.”
Luke did another body sweep but this time there was no heat behind his gaze. And when his eyes settled on mine I knew he didn’t miss the exhaustion.
“Do you need help?”
Yeah, I needed mental help but I didn’t think that was what Luke was offering.
“Help?”
“With your kit? Do you need me to lock your weapon in the TC safe?”
I was on my knees collapsing the bipod when I answered, “No, but thanks.”
Luke jerked his chin and started packing up his spotting gear.
We were hoofing it back to the office when Luke broke the silence.
“How often does SWAT get called out?”
“Well, the weather’s warm and there’s a full moon. It feels like we’ve been doing double call-outs all week. Last week was slow—three warrants and four barricades. Hopefully next week we can go back to that.”
We made it to the back door. Luke held it open and smiled. “After you.”
“Back to checkin’ out my ass?”
“Yep.”
“See you around, Luke. Thanks for today.”
“Yeah, Shiloh, see you around.”