Ally Hughes Has Sex Sometimes Read Online Free PDF

matter if she was talentless. With her looks, she’d work, as long she knew her limitations, and as long as she fixed that nose.
    â€”
    Inside the range, she raised the Glock, bent her knees, and stretched her right arm perfectly straight. Four years of yoga had prepared her for this, plus endless games of KGB and CIA, of cops and robbers, and archery lessons Saturday mornings at the Ace Archers range in Foxboro.
    She steadied her breath, and as she exhaled, she grew still and pulled the trigger.
    â€œBull’s-eye again!” Jones cried. She reminded him of his granddaughter. “What a follow-through! What an eye!”
    Noah smiled and wiped the palms of his hands on his jeans. He was nervous. “I’m meeting her mom for the first time tonight. What should I bring?”
    â€œFor the mom?” Jones said.
    â€œLike, a hostess gift.”
    â€œYou want to impress her? She’s cooking? The mom?”
    â€œDinner.”
    Jones took a moment and thought about it. “Here’s what you bring. All three things: A vintage red. Flowers. Chocolates.”
    â€œDark or milk?”
    â€œMixed. Imported.”
    â€œWhat kind of flowers? Roses?”
    â€œNo. Too cliché. Call a florist. Something in season.”
    Noah nodded. That’s what he’d do.
    He turned to see Lizzie click the safety back to its place. She lifted her goggles, turned, and waved to them through the window.
    Sammy, a range clerk, sidled up to them and whistled through his teeth. “Which of you ducks is plugging that bitch?”
    â€œExcuse me?” said Jones indignantly and turned to face Sammy.
    â€œYou get to tap that bitch or what?”
    â€œOut of my face,” Jones said and took a step toward him.
    Sammy backed off with his hands in the air. “Got you, chief.” Then he did a double take, recognizing Noah. “Hey! You’re that guy!”
    Noah didn’t confirm his suspicions.
    â€œâ€˜Hurry up, woman! There’s no time to waste!’ Right? Am I right? That’s your line? ‘Hurry up, woman! There’s no time to waste!’” He yelled the line in a lousy British accent, imitating Noah. “That was you?”
    â€œThat was me . . . playing a part.” Noah smiled politely.
    â€œYou’re Lancelot?”
    â€œNo, not really. Just in the movie.”
    â€œYes, you are. You ride a horse. You use a sword. You’re a knight. Are you a knight? Like, for real?”
    â€œNo. I’m an actor.”
    â€œAre you Brad Pitt? No, no, I got it! You’re Marky Mark!”
    â€œNope.”
    â€œHis brother?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œBut I’m right. You’re famous, right?”
    Jones intervened. “Yeah, he’s famous. Now, move on out.”
    Sammy did, happily. “My bitch will freak!”
    The week before, at Balthazar, Noah had complained about his schedule and the hardships of his movie-star life: five-star hotels, three-star restaurants. He hadn’t been home in months. He longed for his bed, for a homemade meal. He missed his mom.
    That’s what he said.
    â€œYou can have mine!” Right there, between courses, she called Ally and asked her to cook up a dinner for them, at home, in the brownstone, in Brooklyn. Nothing fancy. Ally would cook a meal for Noah, soup to nuts, and he’d have a night of normal for once. Ally was cool, Lizzie explained. So down-to-earth. Too down-to-earth. Ally was real. Noah would like her, and she would like him. Lizzie was sure.
    â€”
    â€œLizzie,” said Jones as they later took a break, “I know a guy, runs tactical recruiting down in Virginia—”
    â€œAgent
Jones.
” Lizzie smiled and slipped off her goggles. “I am an
actress.
”
    â€œHow do you know? At twenty years old? Maybe you are, maybe you’re not.”
    â€œI’m flattered. Thanks.” She headed to the door that led outside.
    â€œWhere are you