She believed him. “I get to go first.”
He picked up his BB gun and handed it to her.
She waited until Neville had reset the targets. Under Dylan’s watchful eyes, she shot two of the five squirrels. “That was pretty good,” she said, proud of herself.
Dylan laughed, three low “huh-huh-huhs.” Then he raised his BB gun, squinted down the barrel, and knocked out all five targets in less than five seconds. He had that smooth squeeze motion down real good, an obvious expert at handling loaded weapons.
“I think I’ve been set up,” she said.
“You never stood a chance, city girl. I got my first BB gun when I was about four years old.” He lowered the barrel. “But I’ll tell you what I’ll do. All or nothing, and in the next round, you only have to hit three, but I have to hit every shot to win.”
“You’re on.” As soon as the squirrels were once again standing, she took aim.
“Look down the sites.” Neville stepped forward to advise her.
Dylan turned a narrow gaze on the carnie, and Neville went back to his position at the side of the booth. At the end of the barrel, she noticed what Neville was talking about. She lined it up on a squirrel with a green bow tie. “Take that,” she said as the target fell. She missed the next two targets, but hit the fourth. She sited the last squirrel, wearing a pair of pink pumps. “I’m going to nail her good.”
“Now, there’s an interesting choice of words.”
She glanced over at Dylan, then back at the squirrel. “Don’t think you can distract me.”
“I’m not”-he paused to lower his voice a fraction-“but if I were trying, I’d probably just come right out and tell you I’m wondering about the color of your panties again.”
She shook her head. “Not even your juvenile attempt to distract me is going to work.” She hit the target, then blew on the end of the barrel as if there were smoke coming out. “Worried, Sheriff?”
“Honey,” he drawled as he shot and hit the first squirrel, “you’ve got me shakin‘ in my boots.”
Hope decided it was time to do a little distracting of her own. She leaned her behind against the edge of the booth and crossed her legs. Her beige skirt slid up her thighs, and she ran her gaze from his big belt buckle up his chest to his face. “Why don’t you tell me again how to handle a loaded weapon?” She licked her lips and lowered her voice to a seductive whisper. “Tell me about that smooth stroke and gentle squeeze.”
He shot and the second target fell. “It was ‘firm squeeze.’” The third squirrel went down and Hope straightened. “There’s a difference.”
“Pink,” she said, loud enough for his ears only.
He cocked the gun and looked across his shoulder at her. “Pink?”
“My panties are pink.” She raised a seductive brow. “Silky pink with little red chili peppers and the words ‘Warning: Hot Stuff ’ embroidered on the front.”
His gaze dropped to her crotch. “Really?”
No, not really. “Yeah.”
Ping. Ping. Ping. The rest of the targets fell and Dylan leaned the gun against the booth. “Well, look at that. I guess I win.”
Neville offered Dylan his choice of a rubber chicken, an assorted selection of fake vomit, a Corvette mirror, or a plastic hard hat that held a beer on each side. Dylan took the hat and placed it on her head. “For your next twofer night,” he said.
It was the first time in Hope’s life a man had given her a cheap carnival prize. The gesture touched her more than it should have, which she supposed was just one more reflection on her life. It was a pretty sad commentary when a beer helmet could make a woman feel sort of weepy.
“Time to choose,” he said, placing his hand on the small of her back. They stepped away from the light of the booth and were wrapped up in the rapidly falling darkness. “No more games, Hope,” he said as they walked away the carnival booths. “I either take you to your home or take you home with me. If I take you home with me, I’m taking you to my bed.” They moved in the opposite direction of couples heading toward the edge of the lake, where the town would shoot off fireworks. “I doubt you’ll get much sleep,” he added.
“I rode here with Paul and Shelly.”
“I know.” He stopped at the entrance to the parking lot, giving her time t
o make her decision. “I already told them I’d take you home.”
“When did you do that?”
“When I first got here.”