Shooting is a high. Shooting ignites you with a power that you can’t explain. The thrill of handling something so deadly with so much precision.

I hear the gunfire pop off fast. The bullets bang as they hit the metal targets one after the other. Bing, bing, bing. After a few more seconds, all goes quiet. I’m practically bouncing in my skin.

The sound of their boots crunching grows closer. “Ready, princess?”

So, we’re back to that nickname. I pull the fabric from my eyes as his face comes into view and toss it at him. His eyes are alight with joy. I can see how much fun it was for him. The enjoyment oozes from his entire face.

“Only thing I’m ready to do is hand you the tissues.”

“Tissues?”

“For all the crying you’re about to do.” I jump up and pat his cheek.

His head falls back as he laughs. “God, how much I love you—” He locks his gaze with mine “Talking shit to me.” He tries to play it off as though he was finishing a sentence.

There’s that awkward moment between us, but I laugh it off. “Good thing I’m really good at it.”

I turn away and dispel a heavy breath. There’s no way he loves me. It was only a slip. A stupid slip, like when you accidentally say it hanging up the phone. Instinct. That’s it.

“Happy shooting!” he says to my back.

I turn and glare. “Put the blindfold on, vampire boy.”

“I already shot.”

“I don’t want you to see how I do!”

“I can’t get an advantage.”

I stalk forward, rip the blindfold from his hand, and tie it on. “You also can’t distract me this way. Now sit down, shut up, and be a good little boy.”

“You’ll pay for that.”

“I’m so sure.” I roll my eyes and prepare to kick his pompous ass.

Pugh explains the course, same as he did for Mark. We get back, I crack my neck and find my center.

Here we go.

I fly through the course, hitting my mark better than I could’ve imagined. I don’t concentrate on the bet, the targets, or anything except me and my breathing. Everyone presumes the key to shooting is aiming, but it’s actually about timing your breaths. That’s what’s instrumental in making sure you don’t pull the round. When you’re at that perfect release, you can hit anything effortlessly. So I time myself, counting my in and out. I shoot better than I have in a long time. His ass is grass.

Once we’re done, Pugh tallies my score. If Mark beat me, it’ll be by a hair.

“Feeling confident?” Mark asks. He wraps his arm around my waist. I swear he’s always touching me.

“Did I mention I won a target competition at age ten?” I boast. I haven’t mentioned a word of it.

“Okay.” Pugh gives his hands a loud clap. “Ready to hear who won?”

“Sorry, Charlie.” Mark says stretching his arms overhead. “I’m so ready to know what to scream out tonight.”

I slap his unprotected stomach. “Let’s hear it.”

Pugh looks at his paper. “Okay. The winner is . . .”

“I knew it!” I dance around, shaking my ass as I do a little jig. “Ha!” I say in Mark’s face as I continue my taunting. “I win. I win. I win, I win, I win.”

“There is no fucking way.” Mark grabs the paper from him and looks it over. “By that much?”

“The targets are there. You can count for yourself,” Pugh offers.

“Oh, the things you will do!” I practically squeal.

Mark growls as he stomps off to check the course.

He returns with a scowl. Clearly, I won. He couldn’t even lie to himself. This is a glorious day. “Thank you, Daddy,” I whisper to the sky.

“There need to be boundaries to this,” Mark grumbles.

This is going to be so much fun. I mean, he said he would do anything. Stupid, overconfident man. “This is what happens when men like you get cocky. You say words like anything and always. It bites you in the ass, but I’ll be more than happy to take advantage of this.”

He saddles up next to me in his Jeep. “Will you do your ass shaking dance again?”

“For you,” I grin, and lean back. “Maybe.”

“Don’t drown in your victory.”

“Don’t worry about me. I would start preparing for the Day of Charlie.”

“You’re naming your day?”

I huff. “Of course. Now to decide when to cash it in.”

“I’m sure it’ll be the most inconvenient of days.”

“Duh!”

When we pull into the driveway, Mark surprises me by taking my hand. He shifts his body toward me and his green eyes bore into mine. I wait for him to say something, but he just sits with our fingers intertwined. “We need to leave in a few hours for Jackson and Catherine’s wedding.”

“Okaaay.” I’m confused by the tone in his voice.

“We don’t have long.”

“Mark?” My brow tightens. “You okay?”

“Never better.”

This reminds me of the time he got all weird on the plane because of the conversation he had with Jackson and what he thought he knew about me. We’ve spent almost all of our time together, so I don’t think it’s that, but he’s acting really odd right now. I turn my mind back to when he almost said those three little words, but . . . I don’t know.

“Let’s shower,” I offer. Maybe his mood will switch.

“You just want me naked.”

Of course that snaps him out of it.

“You know me oh, so well.” My playful tone makes him smile.

After our long and very dirty shower, we pack an overnight bag and head off to the vineyard. Mark and I make small talk and laugh about stories of old missions. I wish I could tell him more, but I can’t. Instead, I’m vague, but he doesn’t push. It’s a nice thing about our relationship, that there’s an understanding that work sometimes can’t be shared.

“Wow!” I exclaim as we turn into Keswick Vineyards in central Virginia. “This place is breathtaking.”

The driveway is a little dirt road that hugs the vines. We travel until a huge white house comes into view. It has grand pillars and a gorgeous fountain in front. The dirt road circles around it, giving a magnificent picture. Everything is crisp. The greens are deep and rich. The white of the house is stark, and makes everything feel elegant. I can see why they’d pick this place. It’s perfect.

We park off to the side and Catherine rushes to the car. “Charlie! You came!” Her smile is luminous. She’s the image of a blushing bride. Catherine is so happy, so hopeful, so full of life.

“After phone call number eight, I knew I couldn’t say no,” I tease her.

“I’m persuasive,” she winks. “This is my best friend, Ashton.” A gorgeous redhead comes forward. Her blue eyes are stunning. No wonder Mark had a thing for her. Thankfully, he told me their story and how they never really dated. It was more of a, we could, but we won’t situation. Neither of them were willing to make an effort, but remained good friends.

“So, you’re the girl who tamed the idiot.” She smiles and embraces me. “It’s so nice to meet you.”