the moonlight streamed down, glimmering off the surface. It was lighter out here than in the tent as the stars held vigil in the sky.
Someone else was there. Standing at the water’s edge. Of course, he was.
Lacey turned to retreat back to her tent, but her sleeping bag scraping across the ground was like a thunderclap across the still night. Victor turned toward her.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone at night. It’s not safe.” Her reprimand carried across the distance between them.
Victor grinned at her. “Then I guess it’s good that my personal bodyguard is back on duty.”
Against her will Lacey found herself approaching the lakeshore. “What are you doing?”
Victor leaned down and picked up a couple of rocks off the ground. “I used to be really good at skipping rocks when I was a kid. I’m trying to get my mojo back.”
Quite frankly, Lacey could do without thinking about Victor Carlisle and his mojo. Especially with the moonlight making him look like he existed on the other side of an Instagram filter.
Victor turned back to the river and spun the rock in his hand across the surface. It skipped once, twice, before sinking. Not bad. But she was better.
“Prove it.”
“Prove what?”
Victor shook his head at her. “You’ve got that look on your face. You can beat me. Prove it.”
It unsettled her that he could read her so easily. “I haven’t tried to skip a rock in years.” She couldn’t even remember when. Probably the summer she had left.
“So you’re conceding? I get to claim rock skipping?”
“I never said that.” Without fully realizing what she was doing, Lacey dropped her adapted cloak and leaned down, palming the slimmest, smoothest pebbles she could find.
Looking up, she saw a glimmer of victory cross Victor’s face, one he smoothly erased as soon as he saw her looking at him.
She pulled the magazine from her gun, stashed it in her pocket, and handed the gun to Victor. “Hold this.”
Turning her attention to the lake, she eyed up the distance between her and the water, then crouched down and sent her pebble sailing across the air. It skipped once … then sank.
Once! She hadn’t skipped a rock once since she was a toddler. She could do three blindfolded with a boulder.
Palming her second pebble, she gave it a rub and a kiss and sent it flying. Once … twice … then under the water. A growl of frustration purred in the back of her throat.
“Not your best night, O’Connor?” Beside her, Victor let a pebble fly, and it skipped four times. Four!
She crouched down to pick up more pebbles, as did Victor. The grip of her gun peered out from where he’d tucked it into the waistband of his shorts.
Which was fine. She had the mag tucked safely in her pocket. Her body stiffened as it registered something before her brain did.
The chamber. She hadn’t cleared the chamber before she’d given Victor the gun. And the gun would have automatically put one in there after she’d shot the raccoon.
“Victor.” The odds of the gun going off accidentally were pretty much nil, but Victor didn’t know it might be loaded. Given the casual way he had it stuffed down the back of his shorts, he’d probably be equally casual about getting it out again.
If he decided to pretend he was in some action movie and wrapped his finger around the trigger with the light pull … her stomach bottomed out just thinking about it.
“What’s up, O’Connor?”
“Don’t move. I’m getting my gun.”
His eyes widened, and his gaze darted around, trying to find the threat, not knowing it was in his pants. Lacey covered the distance, trying to ignore the heat emanating off his body as she reached around his body and grabbed the gun by its grip, careful to avoid the trigger.
Sliding it free from his waistband, she quickly cleared the chamber and tucked the bullet into her pocket.
“What the heck, O’Connor?”
Victor murmured the words, and she suddenly realized how close they were still standing. Their gazes locked, and his breath wafted across her lips.
Lacey forced herself to take a step back. “Sorry. I … may have forgotten to clear the chamber.”
Victor blinked. “Are you telling me I had a loaded gun down the back of my shorts?” His accent became even more pronounced as he said the words, his scar twitching.
“Yeah. Kind of.” Lacey held the gun firm in her hand, berating herself for her thoughtlessness. Her father had raised her to be meticulous about gun