The shooting range was a large, light-colored brick building about a third of the size of a Target store. My nerves had been shaky the whole drive over, but my heart started pounding monstrously once we parked. Joey looked calm as ever, but then again, he knew how to properly handle a firearm. Of course, it wouldn't bother him. But I didn't. And I wasn't excited.

"It's not that hard, I promise," Joey tried to assure me. "I was a terrible shot when I first learned, too. I couldn't seem to hold my hands steady. I picked it up pretty fast, though, and you will, too, Jess."

His thumb softly stroked the back of my hand in a soothing motion. "I'll help you. It'll be fine."

I reluctantly got out of the vehicle, following Joey to the barred doors. The inside of the building was decorated with various deer heads, fish, and other wildlife trophies. I couldn't tell if they were real or fake. Guns were everywhere, on every wall and in every corner of the facility. Rifles, shotguns, pistols, and several other types of weapons surrounded us, including a tremendous inventory of knives.

I didn't feel threatened, but I didn't necessarily feel that safe either.

Joey waited patiently, leaning against a glass case that housed several pistols and hunting knives. Within minutes, a heavyset older man with grey hair and a Bass Pro ball cap came from what appeared to be the back office.

"What'll it be today, Cavannaugh?" he asked with a big grin, the two shaking hands firmly.

I felt like a third wheel.

Joey slapped his palm on the glass case. "I need a practice revolver," he nodded in my direction. "Miss Jess is going to learn how to shoot today."

I almost objected, but my mouth refused to form words. The man extended his hand to me and I hesitantly shook it.

"I'm Ron Coffman." He smiled and I noticed he had a couple gold teeth. "Joseph and I go way back. I taught him how to fire his first varmint gun. Ain't that right, Joe?"

Joey breathed a chuckle. "It was a laughable experience, to say the least."

Ron unlocked a metal cabinet to his left and handed Joey a small black pistol and a little green box. "The range is open. Take as long as you want."

Joey nodded and started walking toward a painted white door. It took me a few seconds to force my feet to move, following him.

On the other side of the door was the range. There were lanes in which the shooter stood at one end and fired at the outline of a person on the other end. There was no one else in the room and every lane had a black sheet of paper with a silhouette at the end of it. There were no windows and the lighting was kind of dim. In a way, it resembled a bowling alley.

"Now," Joey recaptured my attention. "I'm going to explain to you the cardinal safety rules of firing a gun, okay?"

He looked confident and I felt anything but. Still, I decided to put on a tough persona and deal with it, since I obviously had no choice in the matter.

Who knows. Maybe it won't be that bad, the voice in my head said.

"Okay."

"Alright," Joey began. "Rule number one: always treat every gun as if it's loaded. I don't care if you know it's unloaded. Still treat it like it's full of rounds. Got it?"

I nodded. "Got it."

That seemed easy enough to remember.

"Rule number two: always keep it pointed in a direction where it's not going to hurt anyone or cause much, if any, damage if it accidentally discharges," he explained, pointing the pistol he'd been holding at the ground, away from his feet. "Make sense?"

I nodded again. I could definitely remember that one.

"Third rule," he cleared his throat, pointing at the trigger. "Always keep your finger off the trigger until you decide you're going to shoot. Even if you have it pointed in a seemingly safe direction, a bullet can ricochet and accidentally cause a lot of damage if the gun goes off. Understand?"

"I get it," I said, wondering when the hard part was going to come in.

I was already getting tired of hearing the safety rules, even though I knew I needed to know them.

"And the last rule..."

Oh, great. It's finally the end of the rules.

"Always be aware of what's in your line of fire. Be sure of your target and everything around and behind it," he told me. "If you're out hunting or something, make sure that your bullet isn't going to hit a person, or a house, or anything it's not intended for if it misses or passes through what you're aiming for. I know you're bored to death with this, but I have to make sure you understand proper safety measures before I hand you a gun. Do you understand everything? Any questions?"

Why would I ever go out hunting?

I nodded for what felt like the millionth time. "Yeah, Joey, I get it. It's a pretty simple set of rules to grasp."

And it was. So far, I wasn't confused, and I hadn't fucked anything up yet. That much increased my confidence about the task.

"Okay. Now you're going to learn how to hold it," Joey stepped closer to me. "Eventually you'll learn to shoot with one hand, but when you're starting out, it's best to use both."

He pushed his hair back and I watched intently as he showed me the proper way to hold the pistol, gripping it with his dominant hand and placing his left hand, or as he referred to it, his support hand, on the opposite side of the weapon.

Joey then explained to me how to stand correctly while holding the gun, standing with his feet shoulder-width apart and bending his knees slightly, aiming the pistol down the firing lane.

Even as out of place as I felt, I was actually beginning to enjoy myself. Joey looked beyond attractive standing there, holding the revolver. His jeans were sagging a bit and his hair was messy. He hadn't shaved in a couple days and his stubble had grown out, painting a shadow across his jawline again. He looked sexy as hell and I longed to feel his stubble beneath my fingertips again.

"Jess, are you paying attention?" he asked.

I'd zoned out, thinking about kissing him. I nodded as if I'd heard everything he'd said, embarrassment coursing through me.

"Uh huh," Joey chuckled, obviously not believing that I'd been listening. "Now you get to do it."

"What?" My eyes widened. "Do what?"

I didn't want to hold the gun. What if I dropped it and it went off or something?

"Relax," he shrugged. "It's not loaded. Although-"

"I know. I know. Remember rule number one," I interrupted.

Joey flashed me a lopsided boyish smile and nodded. The voice in my head broke out the pompoms in celebration of me guessing correctly.

Joey stepped behind me, his chest pressing firmly against my back as he helped me to properly hold the gun.

"Make sure it feels right," he told me, his breath teasing my ear and bringing the memories of our fiery night in bed back to my mind. "If it doesn't feel right, you're not holding it right."

His choice of words had me focusing more on how right it felt with him on top of me in bed, rather than whether or not the pistol felt right in my hands.

Finally, I adjusted my grip until it was comfortable.

"Good."

He went on to adjust my posture, placing a hand on my thigh and helping me to spread my feet the correct width apart, lining up with my shoulders. But all I could focus on was his hand on my thigh. I wanted him to raise it higher up my leg.

"Now you've got to learn sighting," Joey stepped back, his hand leaving my body.

An instant cold sensation developed where his hand had been. I didn't want to learn how to sight the damn thing! I wanted to make out with Joey!

"See this?" He pointed out a little raised tip on the end of the barrel.

I nodded.

"Line the notch up with the center of your target between these two," he directed my attention to two more raised tips on the opposite end of the pistol.

I aimed for the outline of the person at the end of the lane. I lined up the center notch with the middle of the silhouette and stared down the barrel at my target.

"Am I doing this right?" I asked, thinking I probably looked like an idiot.

"Does everything line up with the center of your target?"

"Yes."

He smiled. "Then you're doing it right."

That made me feel better. I started to relax more, which made my position and the unfamiliar object in my hands feel better.

"Alright." Joey gently removed the pistol from my grasp and I looked at him in confusion.

"I have to load it," he said in a duh tone.

My expression must have been ridiculous. "Load it?"

I raised my eyebrows. I wasn't so sure I was ready for that part.

Joey leaned closer to me so I could see how he was loading the gun.

"They're blanks, Jess," he told me. "Don't be pointing it at me or anything. Even blanks can do damage. But they're not actual bullets. You can't shoot regular bullets in here."

I felt relieved knowing that. I didn't want to fire live ammunition. At least not yet. I was surprised I'd made it through the ordeal this far. Next came the part I'd been dreading.

"Alright," Joey said, handing me the newly loaded revolver. "Reassume the position just like you were before."

I hesitated but did as he said, holding the gun out, spreading my feet apart how he'd shown me, and sighting the weapon like I'd previously done. The stance felt familiar since I'd just done it, but I wasn't as comfortable as I'd been two minutes prior, knowing the pistol was now loaded, even if it was blanks. Loaded meant loaded, regardless of what it was loaded with, and I didn't know if I liked it.

"Do you have your sights set?" Joey questioned, tapping his fingers on his thighs.

My peripheral vision dropped its gaze to his crotch and I noticed how close his hands were to it.

"Jess?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"Oh," I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. "Right. Yeah. Sorry."

He chuckled. "Something on your mind, Jessica?"

"Nope," I answered a little too quickly. Thankfully, Joey didn't press me about it.

I adjusted my position and lined up the notches on the pistol with the center of my target as I'd done before, and patiently waited for Joey to tell me to do something. Although, I wasn't so sure I'd be able to fire the gun if he told me to. I might be too intimidated by the weapon in my hands and chicken out, or I might try pulling the trigger and screw up. I didn't like either possibility.

Joey returned to his spot behind me, his chest to my back once again, and raised his arms on either side of my body, parallel with mine. His hands gently covered mine and he lowered his stance, resting his chin on my shoulder, eye level with me.

"It's not hard. I promise," he said softly against my ear. "Just focus on your target. When you feel comfortable enough, start to press down on the trigger. Don't pull it, like everyone says. Gently squeeze it back toward you, but keep a firm grasp on your pistol. Be prepared for the kickback. It'll jerk a bit. Just don't loosen your grip."

I started to relax against his chest. I felt better about pulling - or squeezing - the trigger while Joey was as close as he was to me. He made me feel safe. Well... safer.

"How do you feel?"

Joey's breath tickled the tiny hairs on my skin and raised goosebumps, eliciting a chill down my spine. I bit my tongue to keep from groaning in pleasure. I wished he could stay in that position with me, but I knew it wouldn't last much longer. Knowing that made me want to drag out firing the gun so he would hold my body against his longer. I knew I needed to get on with it, though.

I didn't want to look like I was scared. This was something I needed to do, regardless of my discomfort. I told myself it would just take practice and then I'd be fine. I just had to give it a try and then get used to it.

"I'm okay," I said in almost a whisper, pressing back against him a little more firmly.

I could feel a hard lump in his jeans and smirked in confidence, proud of what I'd caused. That little tidbit of knowledge gave me the extra boost of assurance I needed.

I double-checked my sights and adjusted my grip just right, Joey adjusting his hands around mine as I did. I could feel his warm exhales making my hair move slightly. His stubble rubbed against my shoulder softly. A needy heat coursed through my body. I wanted him. I wanted him badly. And there was not a damn thing I could do about it.

In the blink of an eye, I squeezed back on the trigger. I knew it was going to kick. I knew there would be a loud pop. I had heard gunfire plenty times before, but never up close. As soon as I squeezed the trigger, a loud crack sounded and the revolver jerked back a couple inches. The sound was momentarily deafening and I wondered why Joey hadn't given me earmuffs for this.

I cringed, slowly lowering the gun. Joey released me from his grasp, taking a few steps back.

I blinked a few times, immediately wanting to hand the gun back to Joey. I looked to my right to see him standing a couple feet away with his arms crossed. The way he crossed his arms caused his biceps to flex and made his sleeves appear tighter around his arms. He looked so hot. His expression was unreadable, however. I couldn't tell if he was proud of me or pissed at me.

I looked at my target but it was too far away for me to see if I'd hit it. Joey smirked with a breathy chuckle. Had I done that bad that it was laughable?

"Nice shot, Turner," he clapped slowly three times.

I watched him walk down the lane toward the target and remove it from where it had been hanging. He brought it back to where I stood. He looked pleased.

I made sure I was pointing the gun at the ground and turned my attention back to him. "Did I get it?"

"Not bad," Joey smiled, holding it up for me to see.

There was a small hole about four inches to the left of the center, almost in the silhouette's shoulder.

"You hit it. It's not bad for a first try. You're not one hundred percent on sight though. We'll work on that. I'll hang it back up and you can try it again. Just wait till I'm out of the way," he joked.

Joey rehung the target and returned to my side. I was disappointed when he didn't wrap his arms around me the way he had before, but I didn't dare say anything about it.

He helped me sight the pistol better and I let a deep breath go before giving it another try. The kickback wasn't as bad the second time since I knew what to expect, and I wasn't as shocked by the pop.

The blank hit two inches closer to the center that time. I was proud of myself and Joey seemed happy as well.

"You're doing good," he smiled. "We'll do a few more practice runs and call it a day. I don't want to wear you out too bad."

I wish you'd wear me out in bed, I thought.