Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I shrugged. “I liked reading adventure novels when I was a kid. Fantasy stuff, where a band of misfits fight their way through a magical land. You know, the classic hero’s journey. Then in high school, I got a chance to try out archery, and I never stopped.” Though I didn’t get a chance to practice much anymore.
She nodded and inched closer, looking at my bow.
I held it out for her to see. “I’ve had this one for at least ten years. And by the way, the ones used for hunting are much different. I don’t own a compound bow.”
Her face flushed. She knew she’d misjudged me.
“Want to try it?”
“Yes.” She moved closer, but she still reminded me of prey that was prepared to bolt at any moment.
“Have you ever used a bow before?”
“Yes. Well, no.” She tried once more. “Sort of.”
“That answers that question.”
To my surprise, she gave me a sheepish grin. “It was for a straight-to-television movie when I was a kid. A bunch of us were stranded on a desert island, and we had to fight off very inept and accident-prone pirates.”
“Sounds like a Peter Pan knock-off.”
“Yes, with a healthy dose of Home Alone. I used a bow for that, but it was like a toy compared to yours.”
She’d complimented my bow… maybe someday she’d find something good to say about me.
Maybe.
“Here, stand like this.”
She copied my stance exactly, her back to me. She was an actress, so I supposed she was used to taking direction.
I put my hand on her waist—at least, I thought it was her waist. Drew’s coat was ridiculously big on her. I adjusted her stance, but then her foot slid out from under her and we had to start all over.
“When we get down from the mountain, I’m buying you a pair of real boots.”
“I’ll get a dozen. The ones down at my cabin are fur-lined and sturdy,” she said with a sign of longing. “They probably house a bird’s nest now.”
“Well, for now, let’s get you shooting in case any inept pirates show up.”
Her shoulders shook, and I wondered if she’d actually laughed at that. Probably not.
I moved to her side and helped her notch an arrow. I placed my hands on top of her, our gloves making it hard to tell exactly how her fingers were positioned. “Pull back the string.”
She did, her eyes on the target.
“Slowly,” I corrected. “Keep the arrow level.”
Usually, with beginners, the arrow fell a few times, or the tip bounced all over the place. She really had done this before.
She loosed the arrow, and it traveled about three-fourths of the way to the target. “Not a bad start. Just put a little more force in it next time.”
She tried again. Her fourth arrow hit the bottom of the thick blanket that served as a target.
“Good job.”
Her smile was radiant.
She shot the rest and hit the cloth a few more times.
“Can I try again?”
“How about tomorrow? There’s something else we have to do before we go back.”
“What?”
“Well, first we have to gather the arrows, which isn’t easy.”
Sierra frowned, looking over the expanse of snow in front of us. “Because they get lost in the snow?”
“No, because Zeus will think we’re playing fetch.”
This time she laughed, a light musical sound. “Where is he, anyway?”
“Out exploring. But trust me, if you look like you’re about to throw a stick for him, he’ll be here in a flash.”
“I’ll just pretend I’m out for a stroll.” She grinned. “I’m an actress, you know.”
“So I’ve heard.”
We gathered up the arrows in a casual, I’m-not-holding-a-wooden-stick-suitable-for-throwing kind of way. And when Zeus reappeared, he seemed happy just to sit in the snow and look up at her. He was as taken by her as Drew was.
I dried the arrows before putting them in the quiver, while Sierra kept Zeus occupied. She seemed surprised when I walked over to a snow shovel leaning against a nearby tree.
“What’s that for?”
“You’ll see.”
We walked back toward the cabin in silence, but Sierra grew visibly uneasy when we approached the area she’d claimed as her own.
When it was just ahead, she stepped in front of me and turned to face me. “Thank you for letting me shoot your bow, but I’m getting hungry. Should we go back and get some lunch?”
I planted the blade of the shovel in the ground as I listened to her. “Is there some reason you don’t want me to see your snow fort?”
Her cheeks flushed red. “I just… whenever I needed some fresh air, it was something to do, you know? Just a silly thing.”
Her rush of words puzzled me. Did she think I’d judge her for making it? Then again, she was an actress. Millions of people watched her every move on screen. Maybe she was used to people—agents, directors, costars—having opinions on what she did.