He could only pick one.
It was such a hard choice.
He could go for the woman in the pretty yellow sundress sitting on a bench by the lake reading a book. Or the woman in the short shorts and red halter top eating ice cream and watching a group of guys play soccer. Or the woman in the ankle length blue skirt trying to juggle a picnic basket, a stroller, and three little kids. Or the woman in black who had the most unusual jogging stride he had ever seen.
How could he choose?
He could choose because he had to. Only one. That was the rule. And it was a good rule. A safe rule.
Making his choice, he aimed the rifle at his intended target, lined them up in the scope, and fired.
“Good choice,” she whispered in his ear, then nibbled on his earlobe. “Exactly who I would have chosen.”
Adrenalin buzzing through his system, he felt on top of the world. Setting his rifle down, he wrapped his arms around the most gorgeous woman he had ever met and kissed her.
A kill and his girl, could life get any better than this?