Free Fearless by Brigid Kemmerer Page A

he could get some distance. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . . Are you okay?”
    â€œI just wanted to talk to you.” She made another face. “I didn’t realize I’d be risking my life.”
    It would figure that the first time a girl wanted to talk to him, he’d knock her flat.
    â€œI’m really sorry,” he said again. He rolled up to one knee and held out a hand. “Are you all right?”
    She took his hand. Hers was slight and soft, and it practically disappeared inside his. He pushed to his feet and pulled her along with him.
    She wavered and he caught her elbows. It put them very close, probably closer than he’d ever been to a girl. “You sure you’re okay to stand?”
    She pulled an arm free to rub at the back of her head again. “I probably should have just passed you a note in class.”
    A note? No one had ever passed him a note. What kind of note? He had no idea how to play this. He had no idea what she wanted. Had she followed him?
    â€œCould you let me go?” she said. “I need to get my papers.”
    â€œCrap. Yeah. Sorry.” He’d been staring at her. He let her go and started grabbing for wayward papers, straightening them into a pile. “Do you want my phone? You could call your parents—”
    â€œI’m not sure I really want to explain this to my parents.”
    â€œLook . . .” Hunter couldn’t meet her eyes. He focused on getting the last of the papers together. “I didn’t think it was you.”
    â€œI sure hope not.” She rubbed at the back of her head again and winced. “Holy crow, just who were you expecting?”
    â€œIt’s not important.” Despite the fact that he could kick Jeremy’s ass blindfolded—not to mention most of his friends—being a target always left Hunter feeling less than dignified. He shrugged a little and looked at her sideways. “Seriously. You all right?”
    â€œI think so.”
    He picked up her bag and slid the papers inside, then yanked the zipper closed. “How far do you have to walk?”
    â€œI don’t know. How far do you live?” She held out a hand for her bag.
    â€œYou want to come home with me?” God, he should tackle girls more often. He hoisted his backpack onto one shoulder and slung her bag over the other. “I can carry it.”
    â€œI live just on the other side of the dairy farm. But I wanted to ask you about the presentation you made in class yesterday.”
    â€œOh. Sure.” Talk about slamming the brake pedal. He should have figured she wouldn’t be interested in him. But he couldn’t really figure why she’d be interested in his presentation, either. Their government final had consisted of preparing a speech on Constitutional amendments. Two kids in class had actually fallen asleep while he was talking.
    He sighed inwardly and pointed west. “I live on the other side of these woods. What did you want to know?”
    She kept pace beside him, carefully picking her way through the underbrush. “Do you really believe what you said?”
    He glanced over. There was a leaf stuck in her hair, but he didn’t have the courage to pick it free. “Which part?”
    â€œThe part about guns being harmless?”
    â€œI’m not sure I said that.”
    â€œYou said people shouldn’t be afraid of guns.”
    â€œThey shouldn’t. They should be afraid of people who don’t know how to use guns.”
    â€œDo you?”
    He grabbed her arm and hauled her to a stop. “Careful. You’re about to step in poison oak. Do I what?”
    She stepped around the leaves. “Do you know how to use a gun?”
    â€œYeah.”
    She gasped a little and stopped short. “Really?”
    He shrugged. “My dad was in the military. He still works defense jobs. I’ve known how to handle a gun practically since I could