Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Haven
“You’re doing what?” Jamison asks. She and Campbell cornered me by the pallets before I could duck out the back door. Prescott’s car parked next to mine last Sunday didn’t go unnoticed. I glance at the clock on the wall for the tenth time.
It’s Wednesday, and I didn’t want to freak out Prescott, so I told her to meet me here. She’s gone back to checking on the animals when I’m out doing chores or working here. She must drive by to see if my pickup’s parked in the Foster House lot.
“Senior pictures,” I answer Jamison and brace myself for the barrage of questions.
“Like senior discount pictures?” she asks.
“No, like the ones I never got done in high school.” They’re the reason I dressed in my bluest pair of jeans, put on a crisp white dress shirt, and dug my nice cowboy hat out of the closet. I kept that in my pickup while I finished up in the distillery. I’m getting enough questions as it is.
Campbell claps her hands together and jumps up and down. “That’s so sweet.”
“No,” I say firmly. “It’s not that. She wanted to pay me back for taking her out on Biscuits and Gravy and for going fishing.”
Jamison’s expression turns greedy, like she’s in gossip overload and loving it. “What else?”
“Nothing.” I try to skirt around them, but I picked the wrong two country girls to try that with.
They grew up working cattle and catching horses, and they’ve got me flanked so well, they might as well have a lead rope in hand.
I exhale. I’m trapped. “She wants a serious relationship, to not live in a small town, and to start her career not in Huckleberry Springs. And you know how I am about women.”
Campbell frowns. “How are you?”
“Not serious.” My chest gets heavy.
Jamison’s glee turns into confusion. “Why not?” Understanding fills her eyes. “ Oh . Haven…”
I’m sure Iverson’s filled her in on life with our mom. I don’t want to talk about it. “So we’re just friends. I’m making sure Huckleberry Springs doesn’t suck for her, and she’s trying to reciprocate the best she can.”
“It’s still sweet,” Campbell says softly. “She seems really cool. Durban said he told you that you could invite her to the wedding.”
“She is cool.” I ignore the wedding comment. “Hopefully, she’s also a good photographer.” It doesn’t matter if half the photos have me blinking or my mouth hanging open. They’re not real senior pictures anyway .
Jamison digs out her phone. “One of my favorite pictures from our wedding is the one of you three.”
I know the image she’s talking about. Me, Iverson, and Durban. Those were the first family pictures taken of us since before our dad died.
She flashes it. “Look how happy and proud Iverson is.”
That day, he was the happiest man in the world.
He got married, something none of us thought would ever happen.
The old mine was being refurbished, and we were a part of that project.
For the first time since before we lost our dad, each day wasn’t about scraping together the necessities. The future was ours.
“Will we get to see the pictures?” Campbell asks.
Durban appears in the packaging room, scanning from left to right. When his gaze lands on us, he smirks. “Need a hand, Haven?”
“We aren’t bothering him,” Campbell argues.
I grasp the lifeline and use the girls’ distraction to sidle between them. If I take too much longer, I’m going to be late. “I gotta get going.”
“Durban has all the dates and times for you,” Campbell calls. “For the week before the wedding. I left your birthday free in case you want to do anything.”
“Nope.”
Jamison pouts. “You never do.”
Except for this year, but I’m keeping that to myself. They’ll see it as more than just tit for tat. I toss her a thumbs-up. I’m almost to the door, and wedding plans aren’t my priority right now.
“Let me know if you’re going to have a plus-one,” Campbell adds. It’d be better if Campbell were a bridezilla nitpicking her guest list. “A friend or someone you’re bringing?”
My gut clenches. I’ve never had a plus-one, and I’m not starting now. Besides, what if she said no? “I don’t think my friend would feel comfortable at a wedding full of people she doesn’t know.”
“We can change that.” There’s nothing but determination in her voice.
“Or…you can both stay out of it.” I look at Durban, but he’s grinning and enjoying my discomfort.
“Hookers and Booze is Monday,” Campbell adds before I escape outside. “She should come.”
If I’m at Hookers and Booze, Prescott might decide not to join.
I reach my pickup just as she pulls in. I wait by the tailgate while she parks.
When she gets out, she scrutinizes the sky. “I’m just getting a feel for the lighting.”
I stay where I am. I’m not going to make today uncomfortable for her. No whiskey will be exchanged between us. But I do steal a moment to appreciate her generous curves in her loose pants. Her pink shirt hugs her breasts and slopes down her waist.
Looking good, Red , hovers on my tongue, but that might ruin the evening before it starts.
She drapes the strap of the camera bag over her body, still avoiding my gaze. “You still okay taking some shots by the river?”
I gesture to the opening of the hiking trail with a flourish. “Ladies first.”
Her smile is as tight as the rest of her body. Her shoulders are nearly to her ears. “No, it’s fine. You know the way better.”
I drop my arm, and my hand hits my thigh. She’s jumpy, and she’s not looking at me. She doesn’t trust me, and she’s here out of obligation. I fucked everything up when I discovered how sweet she tastes. How do I make it right?
“Are you afraid of me, Red?”
She stills but continues to study the sun. “No.”
“The tip of your nose turns red when you’re lying.”
She touches her fingers to her nose. “It does?”
I laugh despite the gut punch of her unintentional confession. “I promise I won’t touch you. I don’t mess around with women who don’t want me.”
The tip of my nose should be glowing. I put my mouth on her, and I knew she didn’t want to start a thing with me. She’s been actively avoiding me over half the time I’ve known her.
A small frown ripples across her face before it’s replaced with professional aloofness. “Understood. It’s just awkward, you know?”
No, I do not. “You don’t hang around many guys after they kiss you?”
The frown is back, and I’m just happy to have cracked her shell. “It’s usually the other way around,” she mutters. Her fingers are white where she’s clinging to the strap of her camera. “The hanging around comes first and then the kissing.”
She doesn’t do casual, and that’s all I’ve done. How can I make this better? “When I was scared to go into the classroom on the first day of school, my dad told me that when someone makes me feel awkward to picture them naked.”
Her lips part, and her eyes go wide. She makes a choking sound, and I realize how I came off.
“Shit. No. Um…” Now I have the image of her nude in my head, all full curves and heavy breasts.
Heat pools in my groin. I’m going to sport an erection if I don’t distract myself.
“I know it was inappropriate, but he was a single dad, and I mean, at five, it wasn’t like…
” I blow out a breath. If I keep talking, I’ll make less sense.
I march to the trail and nearly take myself out on the “No Trespassing” sign.
Her footfalls rush behind me, but I don’t turn around. My gaze would devour her morsel by morsel.
Prescott
After an hour positioning Haven and enjoying my old career again, we return to our vehicles.
I’m sticky and sweaty, but it’s not from the temperature.
After taking pictures of the evening sun worshipping Haven and his strong body, after his shy smile and his almost timid questions about where to put his hands and his feet, my core temperature is set to nuclear.
The neediness making me restless shouldn’t be getting worse.
I didn’t touch him. As much as I wanted to move an arm and angle his body, I refused. Now I’m left with a longing inside me that won’t be ignored.
I need a shower after this anyway. I’ll make it frigid. Shock my system into forgetting a smiling Haven in golden light with glittering blue behind him.
“Thanks for the experience, Red.” Haven’s still subdued, like he doesn’t know how to act. “I’m not sure I would’ve enjoyed this back then.”
“Kids either hated it, but their parents made them, or they loved it.” We’re done. I can get in my car and call it a night. I can drive home and attempt to not dive into editing these photos while I’m all hot and bothered. Instead, I linger outside my car.
He scratches the back of his neck, holding his cowboy hat in his other hand. “How was it for you?”
“When I took your pictures? Or when I had my own senior photos taken?”
“Both.”
“Tonight was nice. No pressure.” My camera loved the subject, and that always makes a session more fun.
I lean against my car. The distillery soars on the other side of the parking lot, a beautiful piece of art that’s now a part of nature.
I dig out my phone instead of putting my camera and lens back together.
“I got frustrated during my senior shoot because I thought I knew what would look better with my body and coloring.”
“Did you?”
I smirk and frame the building in my phone’s camera. “No, they ended up being really nice. That’s when I was hooked. How could holding that pose feel so wrong, but in the pictures be so right?”
Satisfied I got some good shots, I stuff my phone away, but my gaze lingers on the lines of the metal and rock that make up the outside and how seamlessly the glass fits into it all. It suits the men who run it—rugged and pleasing to the eye.
The other guys who own this place don’t get my heart racing like Haven.
I’m still not ready to leave. “We should get some shots in the distillery.”
“Really?”
“If you want the whole senior-photo-shoot experience, yes. I usually went to sites that made good backdrops or were important to the kids.”
He crosses his arms, and I lose the battle not to peek at the muscles bulging under that white material. Now I have it immortalized in digital form.
“How many places would you go and where were the most popular?”
“Most often, it was a studio that I rented.” I flash a grin. “Gymnasiums for the sports photos. Otherwise there were not-so-secret public places most of us photographers used. A popular bridge, a certain stretch of railroad tracks, a grassy pasture, or a field of sunflowers.”
“The farmer always plants sunflowers?”
“There were some sad teens when he didn’t.”
He laughs, his Adam’s apple bobbing. That unrestrained grin is also captured on my camera. I cannot wait to edit these photos. Instead of doing only the ones I think are the best, I’m going to comb through each one.
“The distillery it is.” He ponders the restored old mine. “I don’t think it’s a service we can offer for other senior photos though.”
“It’s a shame. I’m sure there’s a dispensary that would let us in for some shots to go with the theme.”
“Nothing like drugs and alcohol to commemorate high school. Speaking of which, I was ordered by Jamison and Campbell to inform you about the Hookers and Booze club.”
“Excuse me?” I’m trying to get a handle on my life and that doesn’t sound like a club I should be a part of. But I’m intrigued.
“Our bookkeeper, Edna. She put together a monthly crochet club with Campbell. You just show up to the tasting room, crochet something—or don’t—and enjoy a drink or two. Elodie usually brings some goodies.”
“The bakery owner?”
He nods.
“I’ve never crocheted before. Or knitted.”
“Edna won’t care, and neither will anyone else. The cost is answering questions about you and your life. They’re nosy as fuck.”
It actually sounds…nice. “Sure. I’ll go.”
We start walking across the lot, slow and meandering like neither of us is ready for the evening to be over.
“Why did you leave it?” he asks almost hesitantly. “Professional photography? I know you said you moved, but why didn’t you pick it up again?”
I’ve never told anyone the real reason. I always blamed the hours, and that’s true, but there were ways around it. He knows about Papa. He knows about Buford. My cheating ex. Might as well put the cherry on top, in case I ever hoped he’d be interested.
“It got depressing.” Humiliation doesn’t swamp me as expected.
Instead, pressure falls off my chest. “Seeing other people have what I want. The family photos where the couple argued and the kids were pills were weirdly easier than the happy families. Same with the weddings. When I looked through the lens and saw nothing but two people who couldn’t wait to spend the rest of their lives together?
” I went home and cried. “It was hard, and I needed a break.”
“That’s understandable.” He leads me around the side of the distillery to another entrance for employees only. We can bypass any onlookers from the tasting room and have some privacy. I want this evening with Haven to myself .
“You really think so?” If Buford the Boss Cat hadn’t hit like he did, I would’ve had a gap in my résumé and a failed adventure, and I would’ve probably been single a lot earlier.
“Of course. I loved being a cowboy, but sometimes, you just look at everything and wonder how it’s serving your future.”
“My ex would’ve said the benefits and retirement are serving my future.”
“As he was fucking other women?” He clicks his tongue. “Doesn’t sound like a guy I’d listen to.”
Is it that easy for him to listen to me and support me? He does that for everyone around him. No wonder this guy couldn’t close the door on his mom for good when his brothers did. “Who should I listen to?”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Whoever lifts you up the most. Now. Where do you want me?”
With me.