Another step, another snap of underbrush. A breeze kicked up and whistled through the leaves overhead, whispering across his cheeks. He focused, waiting for information about his pursuer, but the wind cared for nothing more than the sunlight and the trees. He touched his fingers to the ground, and the earth confirmed it was one person.

One person, drawing close.

Hunter braced himself. Time slowed down, an eternity passing before the next crunch of leaves.

His eyes registered movement beyond the edge of the trees, and then he was all motion. When he fought, his brain tracked the activity like stop-action photography. The toe of a boot, a denim-covered knee, a powder-blue shirt, a flash of brown hair. His arm, flying out to block any weapon. His leg, hooking an ankle to bring his attacker to the ground. A gasp and a shriek and an oof.

And a bright pink backpack, sailing through the air to land somewhere nearby. Papers fluttered into the wind and scattered.

Pink.

He stared down at the person he’d pinned. “Clare?”

“Ow.” She grimaced and put a hand to her head. Strands of her hair were tangled in the dead leaves littering the ground. “That kinda hurt.”

Clare Kasten was in his fourth-period government class. Cute, in a gentle way, with wide brown eyes and soft features. Shy, too. He couldn’t remember a single word they’d ever exchanged.

Hunter swore and braced a hand against the ground so he could get some distance. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . . Are you okay?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.” She made another face. “I didn’t realize I’d be risking my life.”

It would figure that the first time a girl wanted to talk to him, he’d knock her flat.

“I’m really sorry,” he said again. He rolled up to one knee and held out a hand. “Are you all right?”

She took his hand. Hers was slight and soft, and it practically disappeared inside his. He pushed to his feet and pulled her along with him.

She wavered and he caught her elbows. It put them very close, probably closer than he’d ever been to a girl. “You sure you’re okay to stand?”

She pulled an arm free to rub at the back of her head again. “I probably should have just passed you a note in class.”

A note? No one had ever passed him a note. What kind of note? He had no idea how to play this. He had no idea what she wanted. Had she followed him?

“Could you let me go?” she said. “I need to get my papers.”

“Crap. Yeah. Sorry.” He’d been staring at her. He let her go and started grabbing for wayward papers, straightening them into a pile. “Do you want my phone? You could call your parents—”

“I’m not sure I really want to explain this to my parents.”

“Look . . .” Hunter couldn’t meet her eyes. He focused on getting the last of the papers together. “I didn’t think it was you.”

“I sure hope not.” She rubbed at the back of her head again and winced. “Holy crow, just who were you expecting?”

“It’s not important.” Despite the fact that he could kick Jeremy’s ass blindfolded—not to mention most of his friends—being a target always left Hunter feeling less than dignified. He shrugged a little and looked at her sideways. “Seriously. You all right?”

“I think so.”

He picked up her bag and slid the papers inside, then yanked the zipper closed. “How far do you have to walk?”

“I don’t know. How far do you live?” She held out a hand for her bag.

“You want to come home with me?” God, he should tackle girls more often. He hoisted his backpack onto one shoulder and slung her bag over the other. “I can carry it.”

“I live just on the other side of the dairy farm. But I wanted to ask you about the presentation you made in class yesterday.”

“Oh. Sure.” Talk about slamming the brake pedal. He should have figured she wouldn’t be interested in him. But he couldn’t really figure why she’d be interested in his presentation, either. Their government final had consisted of preparing a speech on Constitutional amendments. Two kids in class had actually fallen asleep while he was talking.

He sighed inwardly and pointed west. “I live on the other side of these woods. What did you want to know?”

She kept pace beside him, carefully picking her way through the underbrush. “Do you really believe what you said?”

He glanced over. There was a leaf stuck in her hair, but he didn’t have the courage to pick it free. “Which part?”

“The part about guns being harmless?”

“I’m not sure I said that.”

“You said people shouldn’t be afraid of guns.”

“They shouldn’t. They should be afraid of people who don’t know how to use guns.”

“Do you?”

He grabbed her arm and hauled her to a stop. “Careful. You’re about to step in poison oak. Do I what?”

She stepped around the leaves. “Do you know how to use a gun?”

“Yeah.”

She gasped a little and stopped short. “Really?”

He shrugged. “My dad was in the military. He still works defense jobs. I’ve known how to handle a gun practically since I could walk.” He paused. This might be the longest conversation he’d ever had with a girl, and he couldn’t tell what that gasp meant. “It used to freak my mom out, but Dad always told her that I’d be a lot safer if I knew what I was doing with a firearm.”