“She’s kinda hot,” Christian said, his eyes still trained on her, tracking her movements as she spoke with customers at her desk.
Silas cast a look in the same direction to confirm what he’d already been aware of: Raven was an attractive woman. Statuesque and thick was a winning combination, and today she wielded her assets in a pair of high-waisted relaxed jeans and a fitted T-shirt that exposed a sliver of her midriff.
“Pop your eyes back in your head, and let’s go,” Silas said, nudging the other guy the last steps out the door.
When they arrived at the far end of the field where Silas held his classes, Christian began his warmup with some arm mobility rotations as Silas set up his clipboard to take notes.
“Do you know if she’s single?” Christian asked, his arm static in a stretch across his body.
“Man, you still on that?” Silas asked.
“What? Am I walking on claimed territory? If you’re interested, I’ll back off.”
“Not even close,” Silas said, laughing.
“So, is she single?”
“I have no idea. And weren’t you just going on about someone else last week?”
“That’s casual,” Christian said with a grin. “Nothing wrong with entertaining more than one person if you’re safe about it.”
Christian worked as a forestry technician for a logging company in town, but he insisted on calling himself a lumberjack. “Ladies love it,” he once told Silas. And it was true if his healthy dating life was any indication.
“Whatever, man, but I’m not your matchmaker,” Silas said. “My only job here is to train you for that upcoming tournament.”
He wouldn’t allow Raven to disrupt yet another thing in his life. Selfishly, Silas loved coaching archers who were nerds about the intricacies of the sport, who cared about how a slight mental or physical adjustment affected their shot. It was fun imparting all the stored knowledge he’d accumulated over his career.
Once sufficiently warmed up, Christian started a set at the shooting line with his recurve bow.
“Mind your draw elbow,” Silas said after a few shots, and Christian shifted his right arm ever slightly on his next shot. When they moved on to a target further from the shooting line, Silas said, “Your front alignment is better.”
“Thanks, I feel it,” Christian said as he settled into a new set. Partway through, however, the wind picked up.
“Fuck, too many sixes,” Christian said, studying his less-than-tight arrow grouping.
“Remember to engage your lower body,” Silas said, moving his legs into an open stance. “Keep the tension until the end of your shot. It’ll reduce the lurching.” He picked up his bow to demonstrate, and when his arrow hit the bull’s eye, he said, “Make sense?”
“Have you ever thought of competing again?” Christian asked as they traded places. “You’re still good even with…” The man’s eyes darted to Silas’s right shoulder, and he resisted the impulse to rub it.
“I might be perfect on the first shot, the tenth shot, even the fiftieth shot,” Silas said, “but I can’t guarantee it on the hundredth.”
Archery was all about consistency in form and technique, and to achieve that required hours of daily training. Silas couldn’t do that anymore because sudden stiffness fucked up his draws, and pain limited the time he could spend in practice.
Pity flashed across Christian’s face, but Silas ignored it and the dull ache pressing against his chest. “Okay, let’s move this back to sixty meters and see what you got.”
ChapterEight
Raven staredat the sterling faucet, shiny and beautiful, almost scared to breathe near it. She slowly twisted her head to look under the spout—no leaking water.
Ed, the plumber, chuckled from behind. “It’s brand spanking new. Won’t give out on you for a long time.”
“Of course,” Raven said, straightening. “I’m a little paranoid, I guess.”
He’d spent less than an hour on the job, and a problem that had haunted Raven since her first day was suddenly gone. She tossed the plastic contraption that held the previous faucet together and thanked Ed.
Instead of dashing off to his next client as Raven expected, the plumber took a seat and cradled the glass of water she had offered him earlier.
“How are you getting along in Cedar?” Ed asked after a sip.
