“Oh, my God.” She shakes her head through a laugh before turning away to open her door.
“I know you see all these muscles and think, my, God, he can handle anything, but really, babe, I’m sensitive. Don’t let all this bulk fool you,” I add as she climbs out of the car.
“Then maybe we need to quit with the sponge baths since I’m not doing it right,” she suggests.
I lean over the console so she can see my face from where she’s standing. “Hey, I didn’t say that. Quitters never learn, babe. And I’m patient man. I’m willing to teach you how I like to be touched.” I smirk, adding, “It’ll probably take hours of instruction. And I’ll, of course, need to touch you. This will be a hands-on process. Very hands on.”
Riley’s cheeks burn hot.
And really, I can't help myself at this point.
“We won't stop until we're both satisfied,” I promise.
Her eyes flicker wider. Then she slams the car door, turns on her heel, and moves hastily toward the front of the building, leaving me laughing in the car.
“Well shit, look who it is.”
I shake the hand Zeke is holding out for me, greeting him. “How’s it going, man? How you been?”
Zeke is the owner of Heep Pistol Range. He’s a retired Army Sergeant who is always doing stuff for the community and finding ways to support the local police and fire departments. He's a standup guy. I’ve known him for years.
“Good. Can’t complain,” he replies, running a hand over his short gray hair before grabbing his hips. He lifts his chin at me. “How are you feeling? I heard about what happened. How long are you gonna be laid up for?”
“They’re saying probably close to five months but I’m not hearing that, you know? I told my therapist today she has three months to fix me up. I can't stand lying around and not working.”
Zeke nods, understanding me, then looks to Riley, who’s standing at my left and keeping quiet. “You the little lady that called yesterday?”
I watch Riley smile. “That was me,” she says, standing taller.
Zeke gives her a grin, then looks back to me. “I didn’t know she was talking about bringing you in here,” he tells me. “I would’ve told Leon you were coming in. He would’ve liked to see you.”
Leon is Zeke’s grandson. He runs the shop with Zeke and talks about becoming a cop someday. He’s a good kid.
“Next time,” I tell Zeke before turning to look at Riley. “You called here?”
She nods, explaining, “I wanted to make sure they’d let you sit while you did this. I figured you wouldn’t want to stand.”
I smile at her, liking how she prepared for this and thought of everything. Then, putting more weight on my crutches, I bend to get closer, staring into her eyes. “You’re the shit. You know that, right?” I tell her, loud enough Zeke will hear me.
Riley blushes, lowering her gaze before shyness turns her head.
“Got you set up in lane one with a stool,” Zeke offers. “If you don’t like that, I got a chair I can bring back there.”
“That should be fine,” I tell him, meeting his eyes. “I appreciate it, man.”
“Anytime. You know that.” Zeke spins around to grab some ear and eye protection for Riley and myself, setting the headphones and glasses on top of the display case between us. “Here you go,” he says. “Let me grab you the paperwork to fill out.”
“Oh, um . . . do I need these? I’m not shooting,” Riley announces as she picks up the pink headphones and studies them.
“Doesn’t matter. You need to wear those. It gets loud in there,” I tell her. “Glasses too. Shells are going to be flying.”
Riley slips the headphones over her ears and puts the glasses on. She pushes them up her nose, then adjusts the way the headphones are sitting before tilting her head up and smiling big at me. “How do I look?” she yells. “I feel like one of those air traffic controllers with the flashlights.”
Laughter rumbles inside my chest as I lean on my crutches, steadying myself before reaching out to lift up one side of her headphones. “You look good,” I say. “And I’m sure the people at the BP across the street share that same opinion. I think they heard you.”
Riley’s eyes widen as I set her headphone back on her ear. “Whoops,” she giggles.
We share a laugh after she slips the headphones off.
Zeke returns with our paperwork, and I get Riley to fill out one too even though she says she isn’t shooting—she could change her mind once we’re in there. I’m hoping she does. I’d like her to try it out, but if she isn’t comfortable, I won’t push it. This needs to be something she wants to do. I tell her to go pick me out a target while I choose a firearm, sticking with a 9mm I’ve shot before when I’ve been here. It doesn’t have a lot of kick-back and the handle is a little bigger and easier to grip. That’ll help Riley if she wants to try it out. After getting a box of ammo from Zeke, I meet her at the door that leads to the range.
“So, you’ve always wanted to be a cop? Like forever?” Riley asks at my back as I spread everything out on the table in front of me and take a seat on the stool.
“Pretty much,” I answer. “I think there was a week where I wanted to join the circus but other than that, yeah.” I load the magazine, listening to Riley’s muffled giggle through my headphones. “Don’t laugh. I would’ve made a kickass lion tamer.”
“Huh. I would’ve guessed clown.”
“Funny.” I hang up the target and move it out to the distance I want it at using the switch on the wall. Then I look back at Riley over my shoulder, watching as she drags her finger across her smiling bottom lip. “Ready?” I ask.
I want her comfortable with this, and I figure Riley hearing what this sounds like before I have her get any closer and possibly hold anything is the best way to do it. I know she’s never shot a gun before and I’m going to assume she hasn’t been around any either. She doesn’t know what to expect.
Riley nods, wincing while reaching up to clamp her hands over her headphones.
I give her a smile before I turn around, staying angled on my stool with my left leg straight out in front of me and my right leg bent, foot bracing on the wood. I rack the gun, lift it to aim at the center of the target, and fire off ten rounds.