Page 115 of Perfectly Grumpy

She watches closely as I bandage her wound. “You know, if this is what getting shot earns me, I might just volunteer again.”

“Careful, Sunny. I’m starting to think you like being rescued.”

“Only if it’s you doing the rescuing,” she replies.

That’s when I hear it—avoice outside the cabin. “Tate Foster, I know you’re in there.”

I peek out a window. Bart is crouched behind a tree, gun cocked, aiming toward the door.

Lauren looks at me. “You can’t go out there. He’ll shoot as soon as you step outside.”

“I left my gun on the porch, so I really don’t have an option.”

“Why don’t you just give up?” she pleads. “Let him have first place.”

I frown. “You think I’m going to give up now? Let him win the Williamson Family Olympics after everything we’ve been through?” I shake my head. “It’s not about first place anymore. It’s about him thinking he can hurt you and walk away.” I stride toward her. “I’m your partner until the end, Sunny. We’re like Mr. and Mrs. Smith. You know, the part during the shootout where they’ve got each other’s backs? That’s us. Just a man and a woman standing together against whatever the world throws at them.”

She pushes herself off the sofa bed, wincing as she limps toward me. “Then I’m going with you.”

“No,” I say firmly. “You’re staying here.”

“I can still shoot,” she argues.

I shake my head, placing both hands on her shoulders. “Lauren, I’m not letting you out of this house. I can’t focus on fighting if I’m worried about you.”

She scoffs. “Even though you would do the same for me?”

My lips press together because she already knows my answer. I wouldalwaysfight for her.

When I open the door, I expect Bart to takea cheap shot at me.

“There are rules about unarmed competitors,” I remind him. The second I take my first step, a paintball smacks into the doorframe next to me. “If you want to win by cheating, go ahead. I’ll be happy to tell everyone how you took pot shots at Lauren while she was on the ground and unarmed.” I pause. “But if you want to win fair and square, let me at least grab my gun.”

I take my time securing my mask before I kneel behind the porch railing, positioning my gun. A shot whizzes past, barely missing me.

I hurry across the porch, staying low as he shoots again, tracking my movement.

I need to put a bigger barrier between me and him, but getting to safety is another problem. I take my chances and sprint toward the nearest tree.

I’m halfway there when another shot rings out—this time from a completely different direction. Bart yelps in pain and spins around, searching for this new threat.

When I make it behind the tree, I peek around the trunk, trying to locate the mystery shooter. Bart is exposed now, his attention divided as he swivels between my position and wherever that other shot came from.

I take advantage of his distraction and nail him twice—once in the back, once on the shoulder. He stumbles forward, then lurches into a desperate run toward the lodge.

I fire off a few last shots at his retreating figure, watching as he trips face-first, then scrambles to his feet and keeps running like the coward he is.

I wait for a few seconds, scanning the tree line for another person to step out. Someone just saved me from Bart, but from where?

I run back inside and find Lauren standing at the open window, paintball gun raised, a triumphant smile on her face. “Wait…” I stare at her, pieces clicking together. “You were the one shooting Bart—from the window?”

“You told me you weren’t letting me out of this house, butyou never said I couldn’t shoot from inside.” She holds up her paintball gun. “Good thing I kept mine with me. Because you were right. We do make a good team.”

I drop my gun and rush toward her, pulling her into my arms. “After a battle like that, doesn’t the hero get to kiss his partner?”

Her lips quirk. “Probably not safe for my heart, Sheriff.”

I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sunny, I will always keep your heart safe.”

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