“No fun,” she grumbles, but she sets the gun back down.
Once everyone has made their way around the room and have all nodded—except for Hayden, of course—when I asked if they found the one they want to start with, I guide them back to the classroom.
“Next week we’re going to start practicing on loading and unloading as well as a short session on shooting,” I begin. “I don’t want anyone to go out and buy a gun until after you’ve shot more than one. You won’t know what you’re most comfortable with until you fire a couple of them. Targets as well as the ammunition is provided, so you don’t have to worry about bringing anything extra to class.”
There’s an air of excitement spreading through the room as I continue to discuss the plans for next week, but Hayden has her eyes focused on her fingers, messing with her cuticles as I speak. If Wren and Deacon could see how unmotivated she is to learn and interact, maybe they wouldn’t have made such a big deal about her being in this class.
“Any questions?”
Eyes dart all around the room as the women wait for someone else to speak up. I hate that some of them have gone through things in their lives that make them uncomfortable to ask a question.
“Anything?”
“Will we have gun powder on us when we leave?” Gayle asks.
“You will have lead particles on you, but there’s D-Lead soap in the bathroom to wash your hands after we’re done. Any other questions?”
“What about our clothes?” Gayle asks.
Hayden looks toward her, forehead scrunched between her eyes.
“Yes, particles will be on your clothing. Just wash as normal.”
“But like, what if we get stopped by the cops and they test our arms and clothing?”
I tilt my head to the side, knowing I need to speak with Wren sooner rather than later about this woman.
“I’m not following. Police don’t just randomly test you during a routine traffic stop.”
Too many women in this group are blinking up at me as if they have the same questions in their own head, and it makes me reconsider the benefit of this group. Are we training them to defend themselves or hurt someone who hurt them?
“What if I’m questioned?” Gayle continues. “You guys keep a log of when I’m here and for how long, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“Ladies,” Parker says with a humor-filled tone. “It ruins your alibi if you have to ask for an alibi.”
Hayden rolls her lips between her teeth, and I know she’s trying not to smile. Her eyes sparkle and damn if it isn’t a good look on her. Does it make me a misogynist asshole to think that she should do it more often? I guess I actually want her to find more reasons in her life to smile.
“Any other questions?” They shake their heads. “See you ladies next week.”
They all move to stand as I gather my things from the table at the front of the room.
“Hayden can you hold back?”
Her friend smiles whereas Hayden has lost the glow of happiness she had a moment ago. I can admit she’s even pretty when she frowns.
“I can see if they have a Walther PPK if you want to test the grip before you leave.”
“The last one I had was good,” she says.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Anything else?”
“No,” I answer.
“We’re going out for drinks,” Parker interjects. “Would you like to join us?”
I don’t miss the slight shake of Hayden’s head, but even if I were in the mood to get her riled up, I wouldn’t accept the offer. I have plans with Jude tonight that include a six-pack of beer and a hockey game on television. Being around fifteen women for the last two hours has managed to drain me.
“I have plans,” I tell her. “But maybe another time.”
“Sure thing,” Parker says, running her hand down my arm in a friendly gesture. Suddenly, I realize I was wrong about Hayden and her lack of attention in my direction because her eyes flare a little at the sight of her friend’s hand on my arm.
“You ladies be safe,” I say as I step away from the touch.
Parker assures me they will be, and Hayden just turns around and walks out of the classroom without saying a word.
Chapter 6
Hayden
“Wanna join us for drinks?” I mimic sarcastically in a high-pitched voice that sounds nothing like the one Parker used just a few minutes ago when we were standing in front of that man.
“Are you jealous? If you want to flirt with him, I’ll step back, but the man is fine. If you don’t go after him, then I’m going to,” she warns.
“He’s not a painting at an auction, Parker. Maybe the man isn’t interested in either of us.”
“That’s not a no or a go ahead and take your shot, Parker,” she says with a wide smile. I get the feeling she’s up to something, and I’m idiotically playing right into the middle of whatever it is.
“Do we have to go for drinks? We could just grab a bottle of wine and hang out at your apartment for a while,” I say, changing the subject as quickly as I can. It won’t distract her for long, but it will divert her attention long enough that I can think of how I want to respond.
I hate wine, but I hate the idea of going home alone again even worse. I never thought my quaint little house would give me the creeps, but it hasn’t felt like home since the night it was broken into. I shudder at the realization of what could’ve happened to me had I not stayed late at work that evening.
“Drinks,” Parker insists. “You need to live a little. You’ll never find a man if you stay holed up at home all the time.”
“I’m not looking for a man,” I remind her. “And I suggested your place not mine. That’s a change of scenery for me. I have no interest in a bar.”
And it’s true. She always comes to my place because before the break-in, I never wanted to leave. I was comfortable in my space. I hate that someone took that from me.
“You’re going to have to get over your fear of being around people.”
“I’m not afraid to be around people. You make me sound agoraphobic. I don’t like loud places, especially ones where people are drinking and acting like idiots.”
“You’ve been going to the wrong places.”
“I’ve been going to the places you drag me to,” I remind her.
She gives me a quick smile and a simple shake of her head as if I’m acting ridiculous. I know there are lots of people like me in the world. Not wanting to be in a crowd or having to yell over loud music isn’t a concept I created.
“I read reviews online about this little place down the street. You may find that you like it. Come on.”
Begrudgingly, I follow her to the car. The gun range is somewhat isolated on the edge of town, so walking isn’t an option. It probably wouldn’t be safe either.
“Oh, look!” Parker beams with her finger pointing to the front of the bar as we get out of the car. “It’s half-priced drinks for ladies’ night, so that means mostly women.”
Maybe she thinks I’m an idiot, but I’m well aware that ladies’ night means the men come out in full force in hopes of flirting with the women trying to get a discounted drink. We’ve been down this road before.