As Love Blooms (22 page)

“Come back anytime, Tessa.” Mrs. Baxter took Tessa’s hands. “And if you come while Reese is working, I’ll tell you all of his quirks.”

“I’ll have to do that.” Tessa squeezed Mrs. Baxter’s hands. “And thank you again. The pie was especially delicious.”

“Reese, I think she’s a keeper.”

“Because she likes your pie?” He took Tessa’s elbow. “Come on before she hoodwinks you into staying for her cinnamon rolls.”

They hurried to the automobile, and Tessa hopped inside. “Where are you taking me?”

Reese shut the car door. “I’m impressed. You’ve waited half the day to ask me that.”

“So?”

“It’s a secret.” He chuckled and started the car. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“What if I guess?”

“Hmm.” He drummed his thumb on the steering wheel. “Go ahead. Give it your best shot.”

Unfamiliar streets and buildings greeted Tessa as they drove to the edge of the city. A whiff of freshly mowed grass caused her to look around, but she couldn’t find its source.

“Are we going to the Indian Mounds?” It was her tenth guess, but Reese simply shook his head no. “To Fort Snelling?”

Reese glanced at her and grinned. “We’re almost there.”

At long last, Reese parked the car in front of an attractive building
with a brick and plaster façade. He reached into the back of the motorcar and removed a shotgun. She tensed. Why would he need that? He gave her no information from the time they exited the Model T until they reached the door.

“Reese, the suspense is killing me. Please, tell me what’s going on.” She eyed the weapon in his hands. “And more specifically, why are you carrying a gun?”

“It’s part of the fun.” He grinned and held the door to the club for her. “Have you ever shot one of these before?”

She paused. “You’re going to let
me
shoot a gun with real bullets?”

“No, I thought we’d let you shoot marshmallows.” He flashed her another grin. “Shotguns use shells, or you can call it
shot
.”

“And what are we going to shoot? I don’t think I could kill a bird or a bunny, and certainly not a bear, even though I’d love to climb a mountain and see one.”

“Tessa, is life ever dull with you around?” He pressed his hand to the small of her back and nudged her inside. “This is a shooting range, and I’m going to teach you how to trap shoot.”

All eyes turned toward them as they walked through the club to the shooting range. A thrill fired through Tessa. Reese was sharing something with her that was important to him. They got along well while gardening, but what about outside Como? Today they’d find out the answer.

He directed her toward one end of the shooting range, away from everyone else. “I’ll pull for you.”

“Pull?”

“Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself.” He loaded the trap with the clay disc and explained how the trap worked. “When the shooter says ‘pull,’ you tug on this string, which flips the lever, and the disc flies across the sky.”

“And you just point and shoot?” She whipped the shotgun up as if she planned to fire it.

“Sort of.”

She let the barrel drop downward. “Reese, do you have a smaller gun? This one is heavy.”

“Yes, but the heavier the gun, the less recoil it has. I don’t want you to hurt your shoulder.”

“But you don’t care if my muscles ache?” She gave him a teasing grin, then tipped the shotgun to the side and studied the mark. “What kind of shotgun is this?”

He pushed the barrel downward, away from his chest. “Never point at anything you don’t plan to shoot. Okay?”

“I can see the merit in that.” She giggled. “But maybe I’m planning to shoot you at some point in the future.”

“Then why don’t you think of it as never point at anything you don’t plan to shoot right now.”

“That works for me.”

“And to answer your question, this is a 12 gauge Remington.” He set the box of shells on the fence rail. “And that box holds the shot we’re using.”

“Can I watch you first?”

“Sure. Step over here and pull when I give the signal.” He loaded the shotgun, took his stance, and drew in a deep breath. “Pull.”

The trap mechanism clicked and the clay disc shot out.

In a lightning-quick, fluid motion, he raised the shotgun and fired. The disc exploded in midair, and Tessa burst into applause. “You did it!”

He lowered the shotgun. “Are you ready to give it a try?”

“Absolutely.” Excitement coursed through her veins. She tugged off her gloves and tucked them into her satin belt. As soon as he moved out of the way, she stepped into his spot and held her hands out for the Remington.

Reese gave her the shotgun and watched her take her stance. “Move your feet apart a little more. Shoulder width.”

“Like this?” She moved her feet outward as much as her narrow skirt would allow. “Now what?”

“There are two tricks to mastering trap when you’re starting out. First, always, always keep your eye on the target and not on the gun.” He paused and watched her nod. “Second, you want to move in a smooth motion. Practice that, okay?”

Tessa attempted to move the shotgun into position, but her motions seemed unfamiliar and jerky. He stepped behind her and covered her hands with his own. “Here, let me help.”

She sucked in her breath. Did he think this would make it easier for her to concentrate?

“Let’s do it in slow motion, Tessa. Nice and easy.”

Her corset cinched as he helped her raise the gun from her side to her shoulder. If he didn’t step away soon, she might faint in his arms. That mental picture brought a smile to her face.

“Focus, Tessa.”

So much for romantic notions. Mr. Practical was on duty. Mr. This-is-my-friend-Tessa.

“Put your left hand here, under the fore-end.” He moved her hand to the correct place. “Press the stock into your shoulder. Lift your elbow a little to keep it where you want it.” He placed his hands on her waist. “It’s important to be balanced. Is that how you feel?”

Balanced? Was he kidding? With his hands on her waist and dizzying waves rolling in her stomach,
balanced
would be the last thing she’d use to describe how she felt.

She shifted under the weight of the gun.

“Careful. I’ve got you.”

Boy, did he.

Reese stepped back, and she immediately missed the warmth of his body against her back.

He stepped in front of her. “Now, lower the gun and then raise it. Let’s see how smoothly you can do it on your own.”

Tessa did her best to comply, but it still felt awkward.

“Try it again.” He stepped in front of her and made a rolling motion with his hand. “Good work, Tessa. You’re a natural.”

“I haven’t shot anything yet.”

“You will.” He picked up the cord on the trap. “Remember, keep your eyes on the clay pigeon, not on your gun. When you think you’re ready, take a deep breath, then yell ‘pull.’”

One, two, three deep breaths. She swung the shotgun into place. “Pull!”

The click of the trap told her the disc had released. She caught sight of the disc, swung the gun barrel to the left, and squeezed the trigger. The shotgun slammed into her shoulder, but the disc continued its arch.

A miss.

She lowered her gun and sighed. “I don’t know if this is my gift, Reese.”

“You’re doing great. Try again.”

Squaring her shoulders, she repeated the process.
Deep breath, smoothly raise the shotgun, yell “pull.”
She kept her eye on the clay disc and fired the shot. A clang sent a surge of excitement through her. “Did I hit it?”

“Yes!”

“Can I do it again?”

“As much as you want.”

Half an hour later, Tessa’s shoulder ached, but she’d found a new thrill. Every time she hit the clay pigeon, she felt it, and the effect quadrupled when Reese flashed her one of his grins, his eyes full of pride.

They went inside the club, and Reese brought over two bottles of Coke. “What did you think?”

“I loved it. Tell me, how did you get into shooting trap?”

“My best friend Erik introduced me.”

She glanced around the room. “Is he here?”

“No. He and his wife are at her mother’s this weekend. He’ll be sore he wasn’t here. He wanted to meet you.”

“He knows about me?”

“Yes.” Reese twisted his Coke bottle in his hands. “He does.”

“I’m sure you tell him about all of your friends.”

“No, not all of them.”

Her hopes dove. Reese didn’t correct her reference to the word
friend
, and he had mentioned other people to this Erik. She had to quit wanting more from their relationship. Change the subject. Do something else.

She sat up straighter in her chair. “I have to admit I would have thought you a baseball man before I would have pictured you as a trapshooter.”

He shrugged. “I like baseball. I’m a decent third baseman, but I love shooting trap.”

“And from what I saw, you’re good at it.”

“I hit 90 percent.” He slanted a smile toward her.

“You mean you hit nine out of every ten pigeons?” From her experience today, that was incredible. She’d probably hit one out of ten.

He chuckled. “There are men who shoot much better than that, Tessa.”

“And women?”

“Yes, there are those too.” He downed the rest of his Coke. “I read something recently about the world champion ladies’ trapshooter giving an exhibition in Arizona.”

“Well, if gardening doesn’t work out for me, maybe I can head to Arizona.”

Reese scowled. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re my partner.”

Partner. Friend. Yes, that was her. She steeled her heart and forced a smile. “I should probably be getting home.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Reese stood and offered her his hand.

She pretended she didn’t notice and stood on her own. Now, if she could only pretend he hadn’t captured her heart.

 19 

Somewhere between attending church services together and leaving the shooting range, something had gone amiss with Tessa, and Reese had no idea what it was. As he drove through Saint Paul with Tessa seated beside him, he replayed the conversations in his mind. They would be reaching her aunt’s home soon. This was not how he wanted their first outing to end.

Tessa sighed.

“Didn’t you like shooting? What’s wrong? You’ve sure gotten quiet.”

“Nothing.”

He placed his hand on her arm. “Why are you hiding things now? I thought we were friends.”

“Friends, sure.” Her voice sounded full of resignation.

Why? They were friends, and like Erik had said, friendship was a great place to start a relationship.

Realization hit him. How many times had he referred to her today as his friend? Five or six? No wonder her demeanor had suddenly changed direction. He’d done nothing to let her know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wanted more.

He pulled the car to the curb.

“What are you doing?”

“Making something clear that I should have a week ago.” He
came around to her side of the automobile and opened the door. Once she’d climbed out, he shut the door but didn’t give her room to step away. He moved closer until she was forced to lean against his Model T, and then he cupped her cheek. “I want you to be my friend, Tessa, but not just my friend.”