Shit. Reed’s heart sank when he saw her reaction to the noise of the guns. What the fuck was I thinking? Bringing her here. I should’ve predicted this. Maybe this isn’t the best idea. I thought she’d be okay.

He was on the other side of the table with the guns, but he quickly placed them on the table and moved around to her side. Sitting beside her, he put his arms around her and said, “Christie, hey, it’s me, Reed. You’re okay. We’re just at the range. Nobody is going to hurt you. It’s safe here. I got you.”

He kept his voice calm, knowing he needed to help her realize where she was and that she was safe, before this got worse.

Then he heard her small whisper. “Reed?”

“Yes, baby. I’m here. You’re safe. We’re sitting on the picnic table at the range.”

“I know.”

Good. She hasn’t drifted. She knows where she is.

“You know you’re safe, right? I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

She nodded.

Affirmative. Good.

“I was going to take these guns apart and show you how they work, remember?”

“Yes.”

He waited to see what she’d do next. He stayed quiet, not asking her yet if she wanted to continue.

Finally, she raised her head, and he pulled back a little, still holding her in his arms.

She looked up at him and blinked twice. He saw tears starting to form.

“I’m sorry I’m such a big baby. I’m ruining our date.”

“Naw. You’re not a baby. And you’re not ruining anything.”

She sat up a little taller and sniffled. “Okay, if you say so.” She shrugged. “I’ll watch, if you still want to show me.”

“Of course, I do.” His tone brushed it off in a ‘don’t be silly’ kind of way, and he stood again to refocus on the guns. “Okay, so we’ll go over the rifle first, then the shotgun, and then the hand guns. We’ll start with the kinds of guns your daddy used.”

She smiled at him, probably remembering her daddy. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” she said. “You brought a memory back to me that I’d long forgotten, and I’ve learned a lot about guns.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Now, I’ll let you shoot them,” he said. “First, we’ll start with the rifle. I’ll have you try each gun at least once and then we’ll figure out what you like to shoot.”

“Okay.”

“When we go onto the range, we’ll wear ear protection and eye protection,” Reed said. “You can tell from here how loud it gets in there.”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “It is loud, even through the glass.”

He unzipped one of the cases and took out a shotgun. “We’ll start with this one. Have a seat.”

She sat at the table and watched as he took the shotgun apart. Once apart, he put it back together, naming the parts and showing her how the gun worked.

He repeated this process with the rifle, the revolver and the nine-millimeter. By the time he was done, she was no longer afraid of the guns. As she watched him pick them up to carry them into the range where they would shoot, thoughts ran through her head.

Guns are nothing without bullets. With them, they’re lethal. Without, they’re like a car without gas. Nice to look at, but useless without what it takes to make them go.

And with that, her fear of guns was gone.

“Okay, you carry the targets and the ammo,” he said. “I’ve got the rest.”

She picked up the paper targets and boxes of ammo and followed him.

Before they entered the range, he made sure she donned eye and ear protection, and then motioned for her to follow him inside.

He spoke to the range master, and then headed toward number four lane, where he placed the handguns on a small table and then the long guns. He raised his voice, so she could hear and said, “Put the ammo here and give me the targets.”

She put the ammo down and handed over the targets. He pushed a button, and a metal piece connected to a track in the ceiling sped the metal piece toward them, until it stopped right in front of him. He attached the paper target with the picture of a man pointing a gun at them. Then he pushed the button again, and it sped back to twenty yards where he stopped it.

He showed her how to shoot the shotgun, and then it was her turn. Placing it high against her right shoulder, she put her cheek next to the gun like he’d told her to and then lined up the target and squeezed the trigger. The gun pulled up as she shot, and her shot went wide up and to the right. “I missed him,” she said. “The gun jumped.”

“You jumped,” he said. “That’s typical with new shooters. They jump. It’s not the gun.”

“I don’t like this one,” she said, rubbing her shoulder. “It’s too much.”

He eyed her small shoulders and nodded. “You don’t have to shoot that one, if you don’t want to. Or you can finish out the bullets. Then we’ll move on to the next one.”

“I don’t want to shoot that one anymore,” she said. “It hurts me.”

“Okay, I’ll finish with it.” He reached for the gun, and she gladly gave it to him. She watched as he fired off the rest of the shots, each one making a bull’s-eye, all shots right through the hole the first shot had made.

“Wow,” she said. “Do you ever miss?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m not perfect. So, I do miss. But not with a shotgun and not at twenty yards. If I miss, this close, someone might die.”

She scrunched her nose. “This probably seems like nothing to you. Easy as child’s play.”

“It’s not nothing. I enjoy shooting. And I’m enjoying teaching you. Next up, the rifle.”

She eyed it. “Is that one going to hurt my shoulder too?”

“No, this one doesn’t have the recoil that shotguns have.”

“On to handguns,” Reed said. Which do you want to shoot first?”

“The revolver. It’s like those guns in the wild west.”

“It is. These are fun guns to shoot. First though, do you remember how to load it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Go ahead and load.”

She loaded six shots into the revolver, and then looked at him expectantly.

“Now, go ahead and shoot. Just like I showed you.”

“Okay.” She stepped up and aimed. Then she fired. This time this gun only jumped a little. She glanced at Reed.

“Hold on,” he said. She waited while he corrected her position just a little, moving her fingers. “Try to relax. You’ve got a death grip going on here. And remember to breathe. You’re stressing.”

“Yeah, a little.”

Reed pushed the button and the metal thing holding the target came sliding back to him. He unclipped the paper, and then handed it to her so she could see her shots close up.

“Good job for your first time shooting,” Reed said, encouraging approval in his voice.

“I did okay?” She wasn’t so sure. Some shots had gone wide of the target, not even hitting it, while others had hit the target. She was showing her insecurities, but she didn’t care. She was just being herself, which seemed to be so easy with him.

“For your first time shooting a gun? More than okay. Did you enjoy yourself?”

She thought for a minute, trying to decide if she’d enjoyed herself. He’d made it easy. “Yes,” she said, surprised the answer was true.

“Good. I’m hungry. You ready to eat?”

“Yes.” That, she had an answer for right away. She was hungrier than she’d thought she’d be.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.” He picked up the guns, and she held the targets and picked up the remaining ammo.

Once outside the range, they removed their eye and ear protection and then he put the guns in their cases.

“Okay, before we go eat, you’ll want to wash your hands.” He glanced down hers. “Gunpowder.”

“Oh! Right. Yes, I’d like to freshen up.”

“We passed the restrooms on the way in. You’ll see them as we go out. I’m going to put these back in the trunk, and then I’ll meet you in the waiting area.”

“Okay.” The waiting area she’d seen had leather couches, and that must be where he meant. “I’ll wait for you there.”

She entered the ladies’ room, washed her hands, then used the facilities and washed her hands again. It didn’t hurt to be too clean. She wasn’t sure if she smelled like gunpowder or if the scent was just in her nose, but the soap in the ladies’ room had a nice scent, so that helped.

How does one remain pretty and sweet-smelling when on a date at the gun range? The soap, I guess. Or maybe that isn’t as important to men as I thought it was.

She thought about the primping she’d done after work to get ready for her informal jeans and T-shirt date and laughed to herself.

He probably didn’t even notice. His mind is on guns.

Coming out of the ladies’ room and around the corner to where the waiting area was, she saw Reed already standing and waiting for her.

Had she taken that long? Or was he just fast.

He gave her a wide smile, and then placing his hand at the small of her back, escorted her into the restaurant and to a table. It was an informal, ‘seat yourselves’ restaurant, and it was getting busy. He sat them at one of two tables left.

“Does the special sound good to you, or would you like to see the menu?” he asked, pointing at the blackboard.

“Oh, I’m fine with the special. I like good old-fashioned foods, like meatloaf and mashed potatoes.”

“Great!” He signaled for the waitress, who came over with pen and pad.

“Ready to order?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am. We’ll both have the special,” he said.

“And to drink?”

“What do you have?” Christie asked. Maybe she’d needed that menu after all.

The waitress rattled off a list of soft drinks, until she hit one that sounded good to Christie. “Root beer,” she said. “I haven’t had that in a long time.”

“Good choice. It’s from a local bottling company,” the waitress said. “Everyone likes it.”

“I’ll have tea, unsweetened, and bring sugar,” Reed said.

“You’re a sweet tea drinker,” Christie said.

“Texas, born and raised. We drank it like water down there, with nearly every meal,” he said.

“Oh, that makes sense,” Christie said.

“So, Christie,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “How did you like shooting those four guns for the first time?”

“I didn’t like the shotgun,” she shook her head hard, “because it hurt my shoulder, but I do like the twenty-two.”

“Those are fun guns to shoot. Lots of kids start out shooting twenty-twos with their dads when they’re young.”

“So, it’s more of a child’s gun. Not really a useful gun?”

“No, it’s just an easy gun to learn. And if you’re good with it, you could shoot rabbits and other small game. So, it can be useful. For an intruder though, reach for a shotgun over a twenty-two. More stopping power.”

“I don’t think I want a shotgun.”

“For home protection I’d suggest a hand gun over a shotgun, for you. And you can carry a handgun, but you can’t go walking down the street with a shotgun. A handgun is the first gun you should buy.”

“I’m not ready to buy a gun,” she said, shaking her head.

“Of course not. It’s too soon,” he said. “No one here is going to pressure you to buy a gun. But what did you think of the handguns? Do you have a preference?”

“I liked the revolver, at first,” she said. “But I didn’t like the hot bullet part landing on my head!”

“I can understand that. Bullet casings can be hot. That was not the good first experience I’d hoped for you.”

“Do you have a lot of guns?”

“Heh.” He grinned sheepishly. “To a civilian, the answer would be yes.”

“And to your Navy buddies?”

“Not as many as some. More than others. Though I have a knife collection some of them drool over.”

“Wow. So, you collect guns and knives.”

“Guns, knives, tactical flashlights.”

“Flashlights?”

“Yeah. And that’s a thing we can get you now, whether you decide to buy a gun or not. A good tactical flashlight is a thing everyone should carry.” He reached and pulled a black, heavy-looking flashlight off his belt. “I can show you once it’s dark, but this is what I carry.”

She looked at it but made no move toward it.

“It won’t hurt you,” he laughed. “You’re not in a James Bond movie. It does what it does, no Hollywood spy stuff added. Though it’s very versatile, if you know what to do with it.”

She picked it up. “It’s heavy.”

“Yep.” He watched her wrap her hand around it and grinned.

She looked down, wondering what he was grinning about and if his mind was on something dirty. She blushed now that she was thinking of wrapping her hand around him; sure now, that was what had entered his mind.

“Do you know what you’ve got there?” he asked.

She started to let loose, but his hand wrapped around hers, holding her fingers closed around the flashlight as he leaned in to speak quietly to her. “Like brass knuckles, you hit a guy while holding that flashlight like this, it’s gonna hurt. Far more than your soft hand would.”

“Oh!” His warm, strong hand holding hers, and her thoughts moving into a naughtier range now, had her flustered.

His mind isn’t on that; it’s on me, fighting to defend myself! Get your mind out of the gutter, Christie. He’s trying to help you!

She blushed an even deeper red, which moved heat through her body.

Thankfully, her root beer came.

She put down the flashlight and reached for her drink.

Their food came next. She looked at the large helping of meatloaf and mashed potatoes with the little bowl of green beans on the side.

“Hearty country food. What did I tell you?” Reed said.

“Yes, it sure is,” she said. “Looks good.”

“But save room for pie. They have apple and pecan tonight.”

“I’ll be wanting apple. Of the two, I like it best.”

“That’s my favorite, too,” he said.

“My favorite is blueberry, but apple runs a close second.”

“That’s a good one, too,” he said.

As they ate, she asked about SEAL training, and he explained the things he’d had to do to reach his current rank and skills. Mostly, she listened, fascinated by it all.

She was on a date with an honest to God SEAL and he was talking to her as if he were just another guy, describing his day at work. And maybe, to him, it was. But it left her a bit in awe. She couldn’t help it. She’d never met a SEAL before Reed.

Reed didn’t miss how rapt she was over every word he spoke about his SEAL training and anything to do with the SEALs. He was used to that but hoped she wouldn’t go into a state of hero worship where she didn’t see him as Reed the man. He hoped that, with time, she’d reach that point as they continued dating.

Over pie, Reed brought up the question he’d been deciding all night whether to ask her. He liked Christie, a lot. But he’d wanted to get to know her better and see how she did on the range, before he asked her out again.

She was the first girly-girl he’d dated. He hadn’t expected her to take to the guns, wanting to shoot everything, and be excited about all of them, like other girlfriends had. She didn’t have enough tomboy in her to do that. But he hoped she’d at least enjoyed shooting something, so they could go to the range occasionally, and she could learn how to protect herself. It seemed like she had.

Maybe this could work, the two of them. Opposites did attract. And they were opposites. But beyond attraction, could they stick? He needed a woman who could be a team player, who could be a partner, not just a pretty face who was good in bed. And it wasn’t easy being with a SEAL. SEALs could be called away any minute with no notice and might not be able to tell their women where they were going, or even after they got back, where they went. It took a special kind of woman to be with a SEAL, long-term. He’d thought he’d found that once. But she couldn’t keep her pants on when he was out of town and had run off with some other dude. Breaking it off with no explanation.

Christie, though, was like no woman he’d ever known. She intrigued him, and he enjoyed her company. Not to mention the chemistry between them, which he’d had to completely ignore tonight, so that he could focus on the guns and on teaching her. Maybe it wasn’t the most romantic date, but he could also make that up to her. He had a plan.

They’d been thrown together, might never have met otherwise, and maybe there was a little bit of good luck and a little bit of fate in that. Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to examine it too closely. He’d just enjoy her company, keep getting to know her, and see where it went. Now, it was time to plunge in and ask her out again. This time, there’d be romance.

“My best friend is getting married, and I’m in the wedding party. I don’t have a date yet. It’s in two weeks. Would you like to go?”

Christie watched his face, stunned.

Reed held his breath. Was this date too much for her? Am I too much for her? Maybe she can’t handle dating a SEAL. Will she say no?