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Mac gave her a thumbs-up.

Jodie lowered the rifle, pulled down her hearing protection, and smiled. “That feels more like it.”

“You stopped fighting yourself.” Mac nodded toward her ankle. “You know how to shoot. Your body just changed the rules on you to protect you.”

Jodie looked down at the brace. That was exactly it. She’d been treating every awkward step and every missed shot like evidence that some capable part of herself had disappeared. But she hadn’t forgotten anything. Her ankle hurt, so her body had adapted. Poorly for marksmanship, maybe, but pretty damn efficiently for keeping weight off an injury.

“I hate that you’re making sense,” she said.

Mac just smiled and went back to his lane.

Jodie pulled her hearing protection back into place and settled in. Her next shot hit the center.

“Yes!”

Mac lifted his fist in a quiet little victory gesture beside her. Jodie watched him for half a second too long. The pleasure that went through her had almost nothing to do with the bullseye.

Oh, stop it. Just friends.

She faced downrange again. Apparently, getting her shooting straight was going to be a hell of a lot easier than getting her head straight. Jodie checked the time and groaned. She pushed her hearing protection off her ears. Mac turned his head and lowered his muffs.

“I’ve gotta get inside before Kyle hurts himself or someone else with a paper cut.”

“You’re worried about Kyle?”

“Have you ever seen that man try to do my job?”

“Fair enough. I’ve seen him try to work the printer and that got ugly fast.”

“Exactly.” Jodie cleared her rifle, then pulled off her safety glasses. “Stephanie covered for me yesterday, but she’s back at the Community Center today, which means Kyle’s probably been answering the phone himself for almost an hour. God help us all.”

Mac chuckled as Jodie zipped the rifle into its case and gathered the rest of her gear. She was trying not to limp as much now, but her ankle had started aching again, and she was definitely ready to sit down for a while. Still, the morning hadn’t been a complete disaster. Her shooting had improved. She’d figured out what her body was doing wrong.

And Mac had put his hands on her.

Professionally.

She shoved her ear protectors into the gym bag harder than necessary.

Just friends.

Right.

Speaking of which…

“Hey, I almost forgot.” Jodie swung the rifle case over her shoulder and picked up her gym bag. “Pizza tonight.”

Mac had been pulling something out of his range bag, but his hands stopped. “Pizza?”

“Yeah. I told you I was buying you dinner, remember? There’s that place in Lyons with the ridiculously good pepperoni and the thin crust that ruins all other pizza forever.”

For a second, Mac looked like a deer in headlights and Jodie’s stomach dropped.

Oh, crap. He thinks I’m asking him on a date-date. Some romantic evening instead of her paying back a friend who’d rescued her from a mountain, driven her to urgent care, retrieved her car, slept on her couch, and fed her pain medication in the morning. Smooth, Jodie.

“I mean, as a thank-you,” she added quickly. “For everything you did. Friend dinner. Totally casual. We can just go straight from work, if that’s not too early.”

“Right,” he said, stretching the word out. “Sure. Pizza sounds good.”