Beard Up(86)

By: Lani Lynn Vale


I held my grin in check. If she saw it, she’d narrow those fucking eyes and then my dick would start to fill with blood.

There was just something about the woman’s anger that really got my crank turning.

“I was here to ask if you wanted to go to a concealed carry class,” I said by way of explanation.

Her mouth pursed. “Why would I want to do that?”

I didn’t answer with the obvious, ‘you are a scared rabbit who won’t even leave your brother’s house’, but chose to say, “You need to learn to protect yourself,” instead. “And I’m holding the class.”

She grunted. “How much does it cost?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s free.”

It wasn’t free. I’d already paid for her, in a way. Technically, as an instructor, I wasn’t allowed to hold ‘free’ classes. Favoritism or some shit like that.

But she didn’t need to know that I shelled out a hundred and fifty bucks to hold her spot. That was my next argument I would try if she said no. But she surprised me by nodding. “Okay.”

Too easy.

Way too easy.

But I’d take it.

“Do you have a gun?” I asked.

She tilted her head like I’d just asked her a question in a foreign language.

Sure, I knew other languages, but I didn’t ask her anything too crazy.

“You’re serious?” she asked me.

I nodded once.

She grinned. “No, I don’t have one.”

I faltered. “Have you ever shot a gun?”

She shrugged.

I started to get a bad feeling about this.

“Come on,” I gestured. “Make sure you bring your ID.”

She did, picking up a purse that looked like it was five sizes too big for her body.

“You got a jacket?”

She stopped, turned around, and grabbed a large, pink, puffy monstrosity.

I held my tongue.

“Where is this at?” she asked.

I gestured to my truck. “My place.”

Her brows rose. “You have people at your house that shoot stuff?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

She pursed her lips.

“Who are you?”

I grinned.

“Let’s go,” I said, conveniently not answering her.

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