“Good first fire, Rook,” Krista could see Evan battling to look her in the face rather than the chest. It was kind of sweet actually. Most men either talked directly to her breasts or took one gander at her solid frame and went looking somewhere else.
She’d been built to be on the football team, not the cheerleading squad. Not that the high school in Concrete, Washington had much of either one, but they tried. She’d been told to go out for shot put and she’d told them to go to hell.
And here was this guy, looking her in the eyes now, like she was something special. Absolutely no one had ever done that. Not even her father, though he was so meek he never looked anyone in the eye, and spoke only rarely. It was likely she’d inherited all the brass Pop had never found.
“First fire. Yeah,” E
