More Than Protect You (More Than Words #6.5) - Shayla Black Page 0,32

she’d be into shooting. Some women I’ve taught in the past were gung-ho to start, then found it too loud after a few rounds. Others still found the paper targets that resemble people too real and objected on principle. I get that, but when I’d push back and ask them if they’d registered for my class as a means of self or home defense—most had—they would say they didn’t think they could pull the trigger if push came to shove. I disagree; the survival instinct is strong. But I always smiled and refunded their money, regardless.

“It is.”

“You said earlier that you found a place you’d like to open a range?”

“I think so, yeah,” I answer as I pull out of the parking lot.

“That’s exciting. When are you going to do it?”

I shrug. “I need the money first.”

“Is that why you agreed to bodyguard me this week?”

“No. Trace asked, and I always like to help friends. Then he mentioned they were threatening you and Oliver, and that just pissed me off. But I have to be honest. Everything changed when I saw you.”

She gets quieter. “And?”

“I wanted you. It was instant. I worry about that, Mandy. A distracted bodyguard is a bad one.”

“You’ve been great,” she insists. “And I’m convinced you would protect me if someone threatened me.”

“I would, but it seems like what you really want is to be able to take care of yourself.”

“Do you blame me?”

After all she’s been through? “No. I respect the hell out of it. And I want to help you.”

“Even though you want to take care of the women around you?”

“Yes.” But the truth is, I want to take care of Mandy more than I ever did Ellie. “I’m protective, not a pig.”

That earns me another genuine smile. Then she shocks me by reaching for my hand and tangling her fingers with mine. “Show me where you’d like to open your range?”

“Sure.” I hope her interest is a sign that she’s starting to think about what something more than a week with me and as something more than her bodyguard would be like. “It’s on our way to the grocery store.”

I head down the highway, windows down, enjoying the warm Hawaiian air. In Colorado, we’d still be wondering if Mother Nature had another snow or two for us before spring bloomed. But Maui? It’s eternal summer here. I’d never need another winter jacket or warm boots. I could live year-round in tank tops and flip-flops. That suddenly seems like paradise to me. It would be even better if I could persuade Mandy to stay with me and give us a try.

A few minutes later, I turn off the main drag and into a light industrial zone. It’s not far off the beaten path, and there’s a place to affix a sign to the building that would make it visible to the busy adjacent street. We drive around the block, and I describe what I’d do to the guest area, how I’d arrange the rentals, the gun sales, and the private lessons. Before I know it, I’m even telling her what I’d like to do with the firing lanes that differ from what we saw today.

When I finally glance at her as I ease back onto the highway, I’m grateful her eyes aren’t glazed over. In fact, she has some ideas about how to make the whole thing more female friendly—and I welcome that. I want women to feel empowered and have the confidence of knowing they can protect themselves, their loved ones, and their children if they really had to.

“Thanks for the suggestions.”

She shrugs. “Just my observations. They may seem silly, but I think they’d make a difference.”

“If a few minor visual adjustments will help women relax and learn their best when they’re with me, I’m all about it.”

I get another genuine smile. “I love that your ego isn’t the first thing you think about.”

And I’ll bet Barclay’s was. “Nope. Everyone has a different perspective, and I’m always willing to listen. I may not agree, but I’m also perfectly comfortable respecting someone else’s point of view, even if I don’t share it.”

“Me, too. Barclay…”

“Took it personally if you didn’t fall in line?”

“He took everything personally.”

“Why did you fall for him?” I can’t resist asking. “I know it’s none of my business, and you can tell me to shut the hell up, but you’re so…”

“Naive?” she supplies, rolling her eyes at herself.

She was, but that’s hardly her fault, especially if Griff’s speculation is true. “I