Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Prescott
Will he remember?
I pace the few feet of space I have in front of the futon.
It’s Monday, and Haven offered to meet me at the bakery for lunch.
But that was before he drove me home. That was before he gave me the most explosive orgasm of my life.
That was before he dragged my underwear off.
Before he told me all the naughty things he was going to do with them.
I’m mortified, and I don’t know if he really did it. But I can’t wait until he returns them. Because then that means he did. Right?
Ugh. What do I do? If I go to the bakery and he’s not there, then what?
Did he get home, look at my panties, and wonder what the hell he saw in me?
How was Saturday the most romantic date of my life, and it wasn’t even a date ?
There’s a knock on my door.
I open it to Papa. “Hey. I was just leaving.”
He frowns at the beige summer dress I have on. “Michelle called.”
“Who?” Am I too dressed up? Trying too hard?
He narrows his eyes. “The agent from Saturday.”
Oh. Did I ever catch her name, or was my head in the Haven cloud it’s been lost in for weeks? “Is the studio gone?”
“Yes. You missed your chance.”
“It was a good place, but I’m not sure studio work is for me.” I have all the pictures of the cats and Meadow. Although the puppy is Haven’s now, so I can’t post her. Should I try influencing again? What would be my goal? It’s not like I can adopt the kittens and make them stars.
“You should start getting clients. I saw Jack heading out of town with Ellie.”
“Who?” Usually Papa’s throwing around friends from his rodeo years, but none of those names are familiar.
He points to a wall of the house. “Kid next door. Ellie takes their pictures.”
“Oh.” A hope I didn’t know I had sinks. There’s already a photographer people turn to. Huckleberry Springs isn’t big enough for another.
Is it?
I wasn’t planning on it, but a few jobs would help.
“I’ll think about it.” I can give Papa that. “What time do you need me in tonight?”
He shrugs. I really should be used to the lackadaisical way he runs Bootleg.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll be there when I’m done. I’ve heard so much about the bakery, I’m going there today. ”
Interest lights his face. “If she’s got cruffins, can you bring a couple home?”
After I look up what a cruffin is. “Sure.” I step around him and start down the hallway.
“Want me to book a showing in Bozeman? It’ll be overpriced,” he grumbles.
“Maybe I should look in Wyoming.” I don’t want to look in Wyoming, but Papa’s going to start to think I’m a deadbeat.
He grunts. “Gettin’ a little far away.”
I stop before the door and turn. “Do you want me close?” My face warms. On the other side of this wall, I was grinding against Haven and coming in his arms.
His expression morphs into astonishment. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“You never wanted me around when I was a kid.”
He draws back. “Pressie, I was working.” He sucks in a breath, like he knows that excuse no longer works, and lets it out in a quick exhale. “I couldn’t give your mom what she wanted.”
If I had a nickel for every guy who knew his limits when it came to relationships, and it was me…
“Wyoming is closer than Chicago,” he says.
“Just as windy.” Regardless of whether Haven remembers or not, I’ll cheer myself up with some sweets. “See ya later.”
I pull up to the bakery right at noon, and the line from the register is to the door. I creep inside. A bell dings, but the chatter doesn’t die down. People look me over. Some faces are familiar from Bootleg.
“Hey, bartender girl.” The guy who hit on me the first week I was here is in line in front of me. “I never did get your name. ”
My ex’s face overwrites the stranger’s face. He becomes Not Milo. His voice even has the same nasal quality. “But you haven’t needed it, have you?”
His smile widens. “I could’ve used it now.” He snaps his fingers. “Wait. Someone called you Red.”
He knows very well it was a man. “But do you know why?”
Frowning, he glances at my hair like it should be obvious. I just shake my head.
The door dings open, and I shuffle forward to make room for the new arrival.
A wall of heat surrounds me, and my nostrils fill with the scent of sandalwood. Warm fingers touch my hip right behind my arm, where few people, if any, can see. “Hey, Red.”
Not Milo’s gaze touches on Haven, and a rueful smile fills his face. “You’re a Hennessy, right?”
“Haven.” The touch is gone from my back, and he holds a hand out.
“Kade, I should go to Foster House more.” Kade drops his grip from Haven’s. “Lots of women like to go there.”
“There’s only one I keep trying to get through the doors,” Haven says easily.
I twist to see his expression better. Me?
Not Milo turns back around, and we shuffle forward even more.
“I wasn’t sure you remembered about today,” I say quietly.
“Red, I wasn’t about to forget a nondate with you.”
“Another nondate? Is this a regular thing?” Say yes.
He shrugs. “It has to be. I hear you don’t date guys who go to bars or own them.”
“I don’t. ”
“And you don’t date men who wear cowboy boots.” He’s only speaking loud enough for me to hear.
I smirk, still facing forward, but my body’s cocked sideways. “That’s a hard one. Some guys can really pull the look off.”
“For some guys, it’s more than a look.”
Don’t I know it. “And it makes him sexier.”
His deep chuckles rumble right into my veins, like a mainline of the most potent drug. The line shuffles forward, and so do I, breaking the link between me and Haven.
A young girl, probably in high school, is working the register, and a woman a little older is rushing behind the counter, fulfilling orders. I want one of everything in the case, but I order a soup in a bread bowl. Haven gets the same thing. There were no cruffins.
After I pay, I slide into a booth, and he sits across from me. “Now I’m going to have to pay rent. I’m cruffin-less.”
“You can always put in an order if Silas gets that grumpy.”
People are glancing at us. A few are outright staring. What are they thinking? Is it me? Haven? Does he come to the bakery with lots of girls?
Does he make them come on the front steps?
Heat infuses my face, and I trace the wood grain of the tabletop. The surface is cool. Maybe it’ll reach my cheeks.
Haven folds his hands. His legs are stretched out, and he’s crossed his boots. My bare legs brush against his jeans. “Silas getting down on you?”
I don’t reposition myself. “No, actually. He complained that Wyoming was too far away.”
A frown plays along his lips. “Wyoming? What’s there? ”
“Maybe a place to rent. A larger population that can handle more photographers.”
Awareness fills his face, but his mouth stays in a flat line.
The front door dings open. Clementine Palmer enters and waves at practically everyone in the bakery.
When she sees me, her face brightens. “Prescott. What timing!”
“Oh?” Did I do something wrong? I haven’t seen her since the crochet club.
She stops at the end of the booth, a smile on her face. “I hear you’re a legit photographer.”
Surprise flits through me. I haven’t been sure about returning to my former career, but it’s got its claws in me, trying to drag me back behind the lens. I’m not upset about it.
My skills were always in demand. I loved Buford. He was an amazing cat, but it was my photography and videography skills that captured his stubborn, impertinent personality. It’s just that people don’t usually care to go deeper. “I am, but I’m a little rusty.”
“Don’t believe her,” Haven says in a tone that no one would argue with.
“You were an easy subject.”
“I saw what you did,” Clem says excitedly. “Those distillery images? Stunning.”
He showed them off? He should’ve. If I had a studio, I’d put some of his shots front and center. But I can’t take all the credit. “With the backdrop and the model, I wouldn’t have needed more than a phone camera.”
She snorts and puts a hand up. “Trust me, I’ve seen the pictures tourists take, and while they’re amazing, they don’t match the shine and polish of yours.
The detail? I felt like I could walk right into the screen.
Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about maybe doing some pictures for me at the library. ”
“Headshots?”
Elodie comes out of the back and circles around the counter, heading for Clem. “Hey. You’re early.”
“Good thing,” Clem says, “or I wouldn’t’ve been able to interrupt their lunch.”
“There you go. Harassing my customers again.” She bends down by me. “I have some cruffins in the back. I’ll send some with you.”
Surprised, I jerk my head around, almost whacking her in the nose. “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”
“They’re ones that aren’t pretty enough to sell, but I feel like Silas won’t mind.”
No. He will not at all, but doesn’t she need to get paid? “He would understand, and I can still pay you for them.”
She waves a hand. “It’s my welcome-to-town gift.”
“It’s how she lures you here for more goodies,” Clem adds.
Elodie shrugs. “A few freebies to create a regular customer never hurt anyone.”
“Thank you.” I’ll come here every day before work to pay her back.
When Elodie disappears into the back, Clem puts her fingertips on the table. “Can I buy you a sandwich tomorrow and tell you all about my idea, and you can think I’m crazy?”
“Do you and your sister have a compulsive need to feed people?” I joke.
Clem snickers. “It’s easier to get them to do our bidding, and I need to persuade you to take some pictures for me. ”
“It might be surprisingly easy. I’ve been asked to take a lot of questionable photos.”
Haven grunts like he’s incensed about the inappropriate offers I’d get at weddings. At least I’ll tell myself that’s why. Only Mom was ever concerned about the situations I found myself in before.
“I’ll give you a hint. I really like what you did with Buford.”
“You saw that?” My excitement rises. The melancholy is still there. I miss my cat, but finding a fan in the wild immortalizes him.