Heartbreaker

I wasn't supposed to be in town for long. Get in, get the job done, and get out.

Easy. Simple.

She was never supposed to happen, and her baby girl sure as hell wasn't part of my plans. I didn't need the complication and I certainly wasn't planning on staying.

"Mommy's scared, Ryan. Don't leave."

Five words. That was all it took for my life to change forever.

“Come on.” He grabs my hand like ours belong together and pulls me through the crowd. I link my fingers through his, pretending for a moment that we actually do belong together. It’s a dangerous game, but one I’m brave enough to play while we’re surrounded by a bunch of people.

After a quick stop at the ticket machine, where he loads up a card one handed, he continues until he reaches a shooting game. I love this one. It’s where the family is on a porch, and the objects move; the chair rocks, the milk bucket opens, the screen door slams. The one I think is rigged because every time I play it, I’m lucky to hit one target. He drops my hand to lift the gun, and as soon as the timer goes, he’s locked in.

I swear he hits the bull’s-eye before it’s even open all the way. And I also swear I’m getting turned on in the middle of the Family Fun Center watching him shoot fake targets with a fake gun surrounded by screaming kids. But who wouldn’t be? He’s wearing a tight black t-shirt and jeans that hug his ass. The black boots on his feet only add to the appeal. As he shoots, the muscles in his arms flex, and my heart picks up speed.

When the buzzer goes off, he glances at the score, and his brows draw together.

“That was really um…” I clear my throat. “Good,” I tell him.

“Nah. I usually do better than that.” He sets the gun down and turns facing me, a slight tilt on his lips. “You’re distracting.”

“I’m distracting?”

“Yeah, dollface, you are.” He stops inches away, and I angle my head up. “Everything about you messes me up.”

The noise around us does this weird thing where it fades away, and the only thing I can hear is the sound of my heart beating in my chest. His eyes glued to mine make my knees weak, and I contemplate if it’d be better to collapse on the ground or fall into him. A kid runs past me, bumping into me and making the decision on my behalf. I lurch forward, my hand landing on Ryan’s hard chest to keep my balance.

He glances down, and I pull my arm away. But he grabs my wrist and puts my hand back where it was. “I like it when you touch me.”