Page 33 of One Chance to Stay (Bears of Firefly Valley #4)

Walter: Son, that is how you end a wedding.

Audrey: Thank you for coming. I had a lovely time.

Harvey: Asking for a friend, is Mabel single?

Walter: She’s too much woman for you.

Harvey: I like a challenge.

Audrey: This is going to end poorly.

Walter: But it’ll be fun to watch.

I turned off the car and took inventory as I got out. No boots. No ski pants. Wool socks. No hat. I remembered to put on a hoodie under my jacket. I’d give myself a C- on preparedness. Next time I visit Firefly, I’d be sure to come with survival gear.

The message had been clear: “Dress warm.” At least I tried.

To my surprise, it wasn’t Seamus standing on the porch. My cranky old man had been replaced by a… similar old man.

“Abraham, what are you doing here?” I was more surprised that somebody other than Grace appeared. Had he come of his own volition? Did he force his way into Seamus’s life? Had I opened the floodgates, and now all of Firefly would show up with baked goods and casseroles?

“Seamus invited me.”

No. I’d have believed a portal opened in time and space, bringing him here before I accepted that Seamus invited a person to his house. For a moment, I worried something horrible had happened.

“Where is he?”

“Setting up targets.”

“Targets?”

Abraham meandered down the steps and followed a shoveled path around the house. I followed, amazed by how much work would be required to shovel all this snow. I hoped Seamus had a snowblower, though knowing him, he’d say shoveling built character.

Oh. Targets . Seamus had set up a row of tin cans along the top of a wooden fence. It reminded me of sleepovers at Tommy Sickler’s when we’d take his BB gun and shoot bottles. At least, we did before his father caught us, and I got grounded for a week.

The leather strap across Seamus’s chest didn’t hold a BB gun. He traipsed through the snow, boots sinking shin-deep with each step.

“Is that a real gun?”

Abraham laughed. “We could find a toy if that makes you more comfortable.”

Great. I’d have to get grief from two men. This already went down as the weirdest date of my life. I’m sure there are plenty of guys sitting at my bar who would see this threesome as a dream come true. Guns included.

“You’re here.”

“I don’t know what I’m here for.”

“We’re going to test your marksmanship skills.” As he said it, he pulled the strap over his head, revealing the rifle attached to his back.

I wanted to tell Seamus he needed to do a little research on what constituted as a date.

Dinner. Drinks. Telling stories about our childhoods.

Though I guess as far as dates go, this was very Seamus.

I still wasn’t entirely sure about Abraham’s role.

Did he know he served as the third wheel in this “romantic” escapade?

“And you?”

“I’m a good shot,” Seamus admitted. “Abraham is an expert marksman.” I caught the hint of a smirk.

“Three-time Piscataquis County golden bullet winner.”

To anybody else, it’d be three guys hanging out, playing with their rifles.

I snickered at the thought. I wanted to ask if the surprise had been firing guns at tin cans or if it revolved around him connecting with an old friend.

As far as dates went, it ranked high on the weird scale, but also at least a little cute.

“You ever fired one of these before?”

Abraham took the rifle from Seamus, keeping the barrel pointed to the ground. When I shook my head, he held it up, cradled against his chest.

“First rule. Only point it at things you intend to shoot.” I nodded. “If you point it at me, best pull the trigger ‘cause I’ll knock some common sense in you.”

I gulped. “Yes, sir.”

“Trigger.” He pointed. “Only touch it if you want to fire. If you touch it before?—”

“You’ll knock some common sense into me.”

Abraham nodded. “Seamus told me you were smart.” He explained end-to-end.

Muzzle. Barrel. Sight. Chamber. Bolt. Trigger.

Stock. Butt. I had seen hunters before, but they always had decked-out guns.

With a quick slide of the bolt, a metal casing popped up in the air. He caught in a well-rehearsed move.

“She’s treated me good over the years,” Seamus said.

“I thought you didn’t hunt.”

“Coyotes,” he mumbled. “Or strangers at the door.”

I shot Seamus a dirty look. Abraham handed me the rifle and, for a moment, I hesitated.

Long ago, I stopped considering myself an outsider.

Maine had become my home, but this would instantly thrust me into the backwoods.

Maybe it wouldn’t be bad? If I hit one target, I’d prove myself and in no time, Seamus would be asking me to clear out the coyotes.

“Let’s do this.” I took the rifle, cocking it against my shoulder.

“Cocky,” Abraham said.

“You have no idea,” Seamus added. “Thankfully, he’s handsome.”

Did he just compliment me? I turned, and Abraham smacked me in the back of the head. “Eyes forward.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m not sure about handsome,” Abraham said, “but at least he has manners.”

“Says the man who went on a date with his son’s boyfriend.”

Wait. What? Yes, Abraham hitting on his future son-in-law deserved a raised eyebrow.

What surprised me, however, was that Seamus knew town gossip.

He joked. Did Seamus have friends? Did he sit around a table tasting whiskey, laughing about anything?

I had questions about this doppelg?nger that replaced the Seamus from a week ago.

I braced the rifle against my shoulder and pressed my cheek against the stock.

Staring down the sight, I could see a tin can sitting on the fence.

I picked the largest one, determined to show these gentlemen that I could be an outdoorsman.

If Abraham was ever going to take me seriously, I needed to make up for the axe debacle.

I slid my finger over the trigger. Guns and menacing tin cans wouldn’t have been my first choice for a date, but I wanted to impress. I exhaled, the can in my sight. Easing my finger over the trigger?—

BANG.

The world went white. No, I wasn’t dead.

When I landed on my back, snow puffed into the air, covering my face.

Even if I hit the villainous tin can, I’m not sure I’d be able to count it as a victory.

Abraham chuckled as they pulled me to my feet.

At least I wouldn’t have to worry about Abraham laughing at my axe skills.

“You’d be better off chopping wood with the cans nearby.”

My pride wounded, the only thing I could do was laugh. I might be a Mainer, but I was of the indoor variety. At this rate, Abraham would have me wrestling bears. I eyed Seamus. Okay, I had already done that.

I rubbed my shoulder. There’d be a bruise. “Okay, expert marksman, this is where you show me how it’s done.”

Abraham had to be older than Seamus. When he swung the rifle around, flipping the bolt and dropping in a bullet, he didn’t stop to stare down the sight. BANG. Repeat. BANG. Repeat. BANG.

The fence held three fewer tin cans.

“Show off,” Seamus said.

“Damn straight, son.”

He offered the rifle to Seamus, who took it.

He went through the motions with far less showmanship than Abraham.

When he brought the rifle to his shoulder, he took his time peering down the sight.

His breathing slowed and the concentration on his face…

damn, the gun made him even sexier. It reminded me of our first exchange.

BANG.

Another tin can was flipped into the air. Okay, so everybody but me could stop an army of empty cans from storming the homestead. I was about to suggest we head inside when Seamus pushed the rifle against my chest.

“I was going to say we should?—”

“When you hit your target.”

“But—”

“I said what I said.”

Should I be aroused by his bossy demeanor?

My ski pants hid the obvious answer. I grumbled under my breath, taking the rifle.

Seamus had a grin, and that only made me more determined.

Our conversation the other night had felt like a breakthrough, but I didn’t imagine this gruff man would be flashing pearly whites like this.

Abraham got behind me. “Okay, let’s do this. And don’t go getting any funny ideas. I only have eyes for my son’s boyfriend.”

Firefly redefined the term friendly . I raised the rifle to my shoulder, and Abraham rested a hand on mine. He corrected my posture and tucked in my elbow. This wasn’t his first time instructing. Had he been the one to show Seamus how to shoot?

“Ease the trigger. Don’t jerk.” He snorted. Yup, he was a dirty old man.

“Here we go,” I whispered.

BANG.

“Seventeen shots!” Abraham cried. “I can’t feel my fingertips.”

I didn’t want to confess I had been aiming for a different can.

If it got us out of the cold and put a warm coffee in my hands, I’d take the victory.

Sitting on the couch, Abraham had taken a seat in an oversized armchair.

I had to admit, it felt awkward having another person with us.

I had just begun navigating Seamus, and this presented a curveball.

“How did you two meet?” asked Abraham.

Seamus might have rekindled a friendship, but I bet it didn’t come with swapping stories about the guy he kissed behind closed doors. I opted to keep to the facts and left out the scandalous details.

“Stupidly, I went for a hike when it snowed. I got lost and found his house. Not my smartest moment.”

Abraham tried to keep his face neutral, but I spotted the slight rise of his eyebrow. I held my tongue, leaving him guessing.

“I’d never have guessed he liked ‘em young.” My eyes went wide. He pointed and laughed. “Remind me to invite you to our poker games.”

Seamus came in with two cups of coffee. He handed one to each of us before vanishing again. I looked down. Black. If I asked for cream, I’m sure he’d tell me it’d put hair on my chest. I sipped so I could avoid Abraham’s devilish smirk.

“I’ll behave,” he said. “It’s Gladys and the Quilt Guild you need to worry about. This town gets a hint of romance and… you know.”