Seventeen-year-old Chloe Matthews is done with guys, done with her ex, and done with the cowboys of the Grand Teton Mountains. She refuses to get hurt again.
All that matters now are the horses. Every horse Chloe helps is another piece of herself pu...
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Jack strode into the barn just as I started mucking the stalls the next day. He held a pistol pointed at the ground and shoved a magazine into the bottom. More loaded magazines stuck out of a duffel bag hanging on his arm. "Come on. I'll help you with that when we get back," he said. "I want to show you something."
It was what I'd wanted, begged my mom to let me learn how to shoot. But with the deadly thing right in front of me, I wasn't so sure. "Um, I don't know."
"You have a sick dude after you. You need to know how to handle a gun."
"But my hand." I held up my left arm. "Don't you need two hands to shoot?"
Jack grabbed my left hand. I flinched and jerked it out of his grip. He grinned. "Plenty of strength. Any more excuses, chicken?"
I squinted at my left hand. "It didn't used to be able to do that."
"That's your support arm. It's strong enough to do what it needs to."
I smiled like an idiot. My hand had been healing when I wasn't looking. Probably from all the mucking.
"Okay, then?" Jack said.
I shook my head. "I don't want to kill anyone. Not even him."
"I'm not giving you a pistol to carry around. This is just the beginning of your training."
"Do you even know what you're doing?"
He puffed up his chest. "Sportsman Club Champion two years running."
"Of course."
"Just give it a try." Jack slid the pistol into the holster on his hip, looking every bit capable of taking care of himself. He motioned for me to follow him down the drive. "If you hate it, you don't have to do it again."
"Promise?"
"Yeah. But something tells me you're going to like it."
The heaviness in my legs and the rock in my stomach told me otherwise. What if the gun flew out of my hand? What if it blew up in my face? What if I shot myself? Or Jack?
We walked farther than I knew the ranch extended. Jack finally stopped at the base of a hill and set the duffel back down in front of a bunch of hay bales with paper targets stapled to them.
"Now listen carefully, Chloe. There are four basic safety rules." Jack stared at me to make sure he had my full attention. "If you always follow them, you won't get hurt and you won't hurt anyone else. Ready?"
"Yes."
"Number one - Always treat every gun as if it's loaded.
"Number two - Never point the gun at anything you don't want to destroy. Ever.
"Number three - Always keep your finger off the trigger until the gun is pointed at the target you intend to destroy.
"Number four - Always know your target and what is behind it."
