Dropping his arms, he stepped back. “On your own now.”
Harper kept her eyes on the black silhouette. When she pulled the trigger this time, the kick didn’t feel as bad. On her own, without Luke’s hands covering hers, she was holding the Glock steady.
She fired again and again. Until she heard his voice. “Stop.”
Harper lifted her finger from the trigger and looked at him questioningly. The air smelled of hot metal.
“Drop the clip, check the chamber, set down the gun,” he instructed. “Go through the steps.”
She did as he ordered. The gun was very warm now. When the empty weapon lay on the counter, he recalled the target. Removing it from the holder, he held it up to the light.
About half of her shots had missed the silhouette completely, but the rest hadn’t. A few holes were right in the middle of the chest.
“Not bad,” Luke said approvingly.
Harper stepped closer to see, her shoulder brushing his. “I can’t believe I did that.”
“Let’s do it again and see if you can get a bit more accuracy,” he said. “But this is damn good for a first try. You’re a natural.”
Warmth spread through her. She was surprised by how much his opinion mattered, and caught off guard by how much she enjoyed shooting. The skill required—keeping her hands steady and her eyes focused—was strangely relaxing.
They went through the same process for another half hour until Luke decided they’d done enough. By then her aim was better. Most of her shots hit the silhouette.
“We can come back in a few days if you want,” he told her, as they stacked the gear back in the storage locker. “Get in a bit more practice.”
She lifted her head to smile at him. “I’d like that.”
Luke’s expression grew dark and serious. “I hate that you’re going through this. I feel so helpless.”
Harper looked for the right words to say but couldn’t find them. For a second, neither of them spoke. Moving slowly, as if unable to stop himself, he reached out and caught an errant strand of her hair and let it run between his fingers.
Every part of her felt that touch.
“I’m sorry we blew it,” he said quietly, out of nowhere. “I don’t think I ever said it before. But you knew, right?”
His unexpected honesty took the air from her lungs.
“I’m sorry, too,” she said.
“I always thought we’d find a way to make it work.” His voice simmered with suppressed emotion. “It seemed like it had to work. We just fit, you and me.”
He was so beautiful, she had to clench her hands into fists to stop herself from cupping his face and pulling his lips to hers. She knew exactly where that could go: amazing sex and wishful thinking. Followed by weeks of loneliness.
She couldn’t keep making the same mistake.
“But it didn’t work,” she reminded him. “Every single time we tried, it didn’t work. And we both got hurt.”
A flash of surprise and hurt in his face. “I know. I wish it wasn’t like that.”
“It is like that, though,” Harper said. “It will always be like that as long as you’ve got your job and I’ve got mine. The second we even think about getting together everyone figures it out, you take heat at work, and it all falls apart.” Her throat tightened. “It hurts too much to go through that.”
He looked at her then, with those regretful eyes, and she had to tear her gaze away or she knew she’d ignore everything she’d just said and pull him to her.
“Besides,” she said, staring at the targets in the distance, “don’t you have a girlfriend now?”
Her words echoed in the long silence that followed before he finally responded. “Yeah.”
Hearing him confirm it caught her short. It took her a second to summon enough false enthusiasm to respond, “Well, that’s great. Is it someone I know?”
He watched her guardedly. “It’s Sarah Blake.”
“Oh.” It was the only thing she could think of to say.
Sarah was a patrol officer. Young and blond, with a heart-shaped face, a quick wit, and deep dimples. She was smaller than Harper, with the muscular build of a gymnast. All the cops had a thing for her.
Somehow that made it worse.
With effort, she asked, “Is it serious?”
He looked uncomfortable. “Maybe. I don’t know.” His jaw tightened. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk about this.” He closed the locker hard. The metallic clang echoed in the long room. “We better get out of here.”