Chapter Fourteen

“Ow.” Oakley jerked as a hard splat landed across her backside. Frowning, she glared over her shoulder.

Tanner grinned wickedly at her through the clear visor on his helmet. “Sorry. Misfire.”

Uh-huh, likely story. Neanderthal.

No one had mentioned that those paintballs hurt as they hit. She resisted the urge to rub the sting away, focusing ahead, peeking above the barrier, trying to locate Spoon. Tanner had taken her under his wing and on as his sidekick in their match against Spoon. Spectators lined both sides of the course in anticipation of seeing the guys go against one another. Rumors flew about the two men and their inherent prowess and skills, leaving others in wonder and green with envy.

Minutes earlier, Tanner had given her a brief introduction to the game and the gun. He’d shown her how to aim and shoot, how to use the obstacles in the course for cover, and how to peer around them, keeping as much of her body behind the cover to avoid being struck and marked. In a true game, once a minute splash of the opponent’s color appears anywhere on her body, she’d have been eliminated. That’s how Spoon and Tanner played, being at the top of their game. They generously gave her an unlimited number of hits, as this was her first time out.

She considered that generous of them, until Tanner shot her in the butt. Maybe unlimited hits weren’t such a good thing after all, considering how hard those things landed on her softer body parts.

A rat-a-tat-tat pulled her attention to the right. Tanner was stationed somewhere behind her, sneaking up closer, trying to catch Spoon in a vulnerable position. Taking a cue from him, she darted from her beginning post to the large middle block.

Whap! She heard the impact as much as felt it. Sure enough, as she glanced down she found a bright red stain across her stomach. Grumbling about the injustice of being a staked goat dueling with professional marksmen, she marched forward, ducking and sprinting to areas of marginal protection.

By the time she closed the gap enough to see Spoon glancing over a small, circular obstacle, she carried the marks of several rounds from his paint gun. Tanner disappeared from the start, hiding and slinking so well that she couldn’t even detect him. Not that she met their caliber, but he was her teammate.

As she sighted for a shot, Spoon jerked. Seeing no better opportunity, she pulled the trigger hard, over and over again, sending dozens of paintballs across the area.

Spoon held his hands up, walking out from behind his barricade.

Oakley glanced at him and felt the immediate rush of enthusiastic victory. “I got him! I got him!” Oakley bounced up and down, holding her paintball rifle with her left hand, fist pumping the right. She let out a whoop.

Spoon rolled his eyes. “You’re such a nut.”

“But I got you!” She jumped a few more times hearing the bystanders chuckling. “See!” She pointed at the bright blue spot in the middle of Spoon’s chest.

“Um, Oakley?” Tanner came up behind her. “That’s where I got him.”

She turned to glance at Tanner then back to Spoon, who nodded in agreement. “Oh. But I know I hit him. Didn’t I hit him?”

Tanner shook his head. “Technically, yes.”

“Really? Where?” She beamed.

Spoon held up his hand, showing a tiny blip of blue on his pinky finger. “There.”

“That counts!”

Both men laughed. “This coming from the walking peppermint stick.”

Oakley glanced down at her white outfit, abundantly dotted with red splotches from Spoon’s gun.

She compared her coloring to Tanner’s perfectly flawless clothes and Spoon’s single blue spot on his shirt. Her excitement lessened. Oh, well. Maybe after a decade of practice, she could remain just as clean.

Tanner’s words replayed in her head. A peppermint stick? “Hmm. That means I’m sweet to suck on?”

Spoon choked while Tanner broke out into a sensual smile full of promise. A Chinook wind blasted across her face when she realized how naughty the sexual innuendo sounded. Not used to flirting and teasing in such a manner, she found the hobby entertaining, although somewhat embarrassing.

“I’m so not touching that.” Spoon held up his free arm in surrender.

Tanner’s smile grew and his brown eyes sparkled. “I think once we get her home and she cleans up, she’ll be cussing you like an ornery mule in the morning.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” Tanner stepped forward, ushering her before him.

Spoon snorted and leaned close to whisper in Oakley’s ear. “Loco has medic training.”

Confused, Oakley paused to stare up at Spoon. What did that have to do with the price of beans? “I don’t get it.”

He latched onto her elbow, giving a tug. “You will. Later.” In a louder voice, he spoke to Tanner. “Good thing you thought to bring those trash bags. As much paint as she’s carrying, you’d be left with polka-dotted seats.”

“I’m smart like that.” Tanner grinned over his shoulder, slowing his pace until they moved abreast.

“Smartass is more like it.”

“Yeah, shut up and color,” Tanner tossed back.

Oakley turned her head this way and that, like watching a dang tennis match as they threw volleys at one another. It didn’t matter—she couldn’t understand half of what they said anyway. It was as if they had their own language. Come to think of it, they probably did, as the military was famous for all their idioms and slang.

Minutes later, they stuffed her in the back seat and loaded the equipment. The guys piled in and Tanner pulled out, heading home.

Spoon twisted in his passenger seat, shooting her a look. “I got you! I got you!” He mimicked her victory expression from earlier.

She snorted. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll remember that next time I bake muffins when you’re around.”

“You’d spike them?” His mouth opened in blatant surprise.

“Nah. I’ll just feed yours to the dog.” She grinned wickedly.

Tanner burst out laughing. “She’ll do it too.”

“Whose side are you on?” Spoon glared at Tanner.

“Whoever has the food.”