Page 74 of Wildest Dreams

I stare up at him, horrified. “Please tell me that Caden does not have a handgun with him.”

Tanner’s mouth opens and then he pauses, no sound coming out.

“What thehell, Tanner!”I yelp.

“It’s not like that,” he says, his voice all deep and self-assured.

I mumblecocky big shotand he gives me a playful, “What’s that now?”

I turn my head away from him, and he drops both of his heavy forearms over my shoulders. I reluctantly glance up at him and see that his face is barely two inches away from mine.

“I want you safe,” he tells me, “and it’s better for you to be prepared than to wish that you were. I’m good with this stuff, baby. I’ll show you the ropes and then we never have to talk about it again, okay?”

I keep frowning up at him until he gently nudges his forehead against mine.

My heart squeezes at the contact, butterflies fluttering gently in my belly.

I nod my head and I feel his large body sigh with relief.

“Okay.”

Chapter 19

Tanner

Present day

This is simultaneously my best and worst idea of all time.

Hopefully it’s about to curb Aisling’s understandable fear of armed weaponry, but then again it could end up just freaking her out further.

I keep my breathing steady as I lead us both toward the entrance.

She’s actually letting me nestle her under one of my biceps as I stroll us casually to the front door – maybe because she’s trying to use me like armour, but still, I’ll take it.

I pull open the front door and give her waist a squeeze, encouraging her inside.

It’s a rustic ranch-style building, with a couple of cushy seats by the front door, and large wooden cupboards behind the long back-wall counter. The guy standing behind it has got to be at least seventy-five and he looks content as hell watching the sports channel on his iPhone.

“Wanna wait in one of those chairs and I’ll grab us the forms?” I ask quietly.

Aisling purses her lips and frowns at the cupboards behind the counter. I’m guessing she knows what’s behind there and is feeling a little freaked out.

She shakes her head and, to my immense guilt, clutches at my forearm, dragging it over her collarbones as if she needs the extra protection.

I clutch her as tight as possible, wishing that there was an easier way to help her face her fear. But I think that ripping the Band-Aid is better than mulling over it for months on end, so I lean down to her ear as I walk us to the counter and say, “It’s just you and me here this morning, okay? I called ahead and made sure the range would be empty. You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

She doesn’t say anything, just eyes the form in front of the ranger.

“ID?” he asks, and I slip my ID onto the counter, squeezing Aisling so that she’ll do the same.

She releases one of her hands from around my forearm and pulls her phone from the front pocket of her denim shorts.

My head cocks to one side as she pulls the case off the back of her phone, placing her ID carefully on top of mine.

As she clicks the case back into place – a clear Perspex-type thing with little love hearts all over it, holding some cheer photos and vinyl stickers in place – she senses me watching her and glances up at me over her shoulder.

“What?” she asks, lifting an eyebrow as I stare at her phone.

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