Page 158 of Mine Again
I release the arrow before he can say anything else.
It lands just shy of center. A solid shot. But not perfect.
Behind me, Luca makes a low sound in his throat, somewhere between impressed and turned-on.
“You always finish that fast?” he asks.
I glance over my shoulder, lifting a brow. “Only when someone talks through my release.”
He grins, utterly unbothered and still close.
“I’ll be quiet, then.” His voice dips lower. “Next time.”
I don’t reply, and I don’t wait to hear what else will come out of his mouth. I nock the second arrow and shoot.
Better.
The third lands slightly wide. I frown, adjust my stance, and fire the fourth.
It thunks closer to center.
The fifth and last is solid but not quite where I want it.
Not terrible. But it won’t be enough, not with Luca as my opponent.
Grinning way too much, he steps up, adjusting his grip on his bow. The cams engage as he draws the string back.
“Remember, Isa,” he says, sighting his target, “I’ve had years to fantasize about hitting my mark.”
He releases his first arrow. It slices clean through the air and lands dead center.
Crap.
The next four follow. Tight grouping. Flawless control.
By the end of this round, it’s no contest.
“Round Two. Mine,” he says, lowering his bow, his smile even broader.
Damn, he looks beautiful. That boyish charm I was always a suckerfor breaks through all that control.
Don’t get distracted.
I mock-scowl. “If we played strip archery, your aim would be way off.” And if it weren’t so cold, I’d test that theory.
His eyes flick to my mouth. “It probably would. Distract me anytime.”
I try to hide my smile but fail.
The air between us is charged, buzzing with something more than competition.
“Final round,” Luca announces, cheeky grin still in place.
Game on.
I go first. Arrow one, close. Arrow two, closer. The third is a little off. The fourth lands strong. The fifth just misses the inner ring. Not bad. But not enough to guarantee anything.
Luca steps up for his last five.
