"What made you so good with guns?"
By now Hawthorne had turned part-way to face her, his back against a four-by-four stud that supported the overhang roof. One leg hung off the stoop, boot in the dirt. The other leg was propped up on the wood porch. Marya found she had copied his relaxed position almost identically. Less than a yard separated them. He looked as comfortable as she felt, and that helped to cool the fever inside her for the moment.
"I don"t know. Luck. Good vision. The ability to remain rock steady under pressure." She took another sip of her drink. Suddenly, Hawthorne let out with a loud belch, surprising them both. Before he could apologize, she gave one of her own, making they both laughed.
Marya tilted her head back to rest it against the post, and closed her eyes. In
