Author: Roni Loren
That night she’d vowed to work her way off her prescription. She didn’t want or need that crutch anymore. At one time her depression had been dangerous, but she was no longer that girl, and she had no intention of living the rest of her life on deep freeze. But the change hadn’t come without consequences. Her whole system now seemed to be on the fritz.
So she was down to her last resort—the one outlet that had never let her down. Her photography. Maybe if she threw herself into her work, she’d find her way back to the stable existence she’d created before Jace’s reappearance had knocked her off balance.
“Hey, stranger.”
Evan yelped and nearly toppled off her chair. She glanced to the back of the studio where her part-time intern had stuck his shaggy head out from the storage room.
Finn grimaced. “Sorry, I thought you knew I was here. Didn’t you see my motorcycle parked out front?”
She put her hand to her chest, her heart pounding beneath her palm. How had she not even noticed his bike? She really was in a freaking daze. “No, I didn’t.”
“Classes are out this week and I’m not scheduled at the restaurant until late, so I thought I’d come in and help you get things ready to go for Monday. Plus I wanted to experiment with a technique for a still life project I have coming up. I should’ve asked first, I—”
She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry. You just startled me. I’m a bit of a space cadet today. No sleep.”
He locked the storage area behind him and gave her a mock pout. “Poor thing. Traveling the country with your totally tasty fiancé. Must be a real hardship. I could take over for you, if you’d like.”
She rolled her eyes. “Though you are prettier than me, Daniel’s too old for you. You’re what? Twenty-two?”
“Twenty-three.” He smirked and tucked his inky black hair behind his ears. “And age I can work with. But that whole him being straight thing might get in the way.”
She sniffed. If Finn only knew how wrong he was on that one. “So how’d the Allen shoot go last week?”
Even though she’d shut the studio down for the most part while she was out, she had let Finn take on a few simple jobs to get in some practice. He’d been with her six months and had proven to be more than reliable despite the fact that he was balancing community college classes and a waiter gig along with his internship. The eager desire to learn reminded her of how she’d been when she’d first discovered photography. And his talent behind the camera was so innate that she had full trust that her clients would be happy—especially with the intern discount she’d given them. She was already feeling awful that she’d have to let him go when she, Daniel, and Marcus moved to L.A. in a few months.
He shrugged. “It was cake. Just a couple of business headshots. She didn’t want anything too”—he did air quotes—“out there.”
“Oh, Lord.”
“Yeah, so nothing fun. She wouldn’t even do outdoor shots. I gave her what she wanted—boring pictures in front of a bookcase.” He shook his head sadly. “A little part of my creative genius died on the inside.”
He stepped to the file cabinet behind her desk and pulled out a folder. He tossed copies of the black-and- white proofs on her desk.
She picked them up and scanned through them. Even with the ho-hum background, Finn had captured the spark in the elderly executive’s eyes and her take-no-shit smile. “These look great—excellent lighting. You made her look a decade younger.” She handed the sheets back to him. “I appreciate you accommodating her wishes. Hopefully we can get something more fun for you to shoot next time.”
“No worries. I’m just glad you’re back so we can start booking some bigger stuff again.”
“Me, too.” She choked down the little pang of sadness that hit her at the thought of only having a few months left in this studio. Yes, she planned to get something new set up in California, but nothing would ever be like this little place.
It was located in what her real estate agent had called a “transitional neighborhood” when she’d first leased it. Evan had learned that this basically meant the little cluster of historic buildings was starting to be restored and inhabited by an eclectic blend of artists and other start-up business owners. But it also meant that if you hung around the area too late at night, your chances of getting mugged were pretty solid.
Finn shut the file cabinet and crooked a thumb at the door. “Hey, I was just about to go pick up a sandwich. You want me to grab you something?”
“Sure. Roast beef sounds good. Might as well completely negate my spinning session from this morning.”
He laughed. “Got it. Be back in a little while.”
After Finn headed out, she booted up her computer and checked the list of messages he’d stacked on her desk, grimacing a bit at the painfully low number of inquiries that had come in while she’d been out. Even with Finn covering the occasional headshot and family photo session, the workshop tour and her absence had delivered a serious blow to her business.
This kind of business was based on word of mouth and being available right when someone needed you. People planning weddings, children’s portraits, and senior high school pictures weren’t going to wait around for a photographer to call them back. They would just call the next one on the list. She’d once had a steady business building and now it was dying a slow death.
Well, no more. She refused to let her involvement with Daniel’s business hamper her own dream any further. She’d work as much as she could these next few months before closing the doors here, but she also would dedicate herself to building contacts in California. Los Angeles was going to be a nightmare to have a start-up—a place where everyone needed headshots but no one wanted to work with an unknown. She’d have to be dogged in her pursuit of business once she got a location up and running out there. Because giving up her photography was not an option no matter how successful Daniel became.
She was thrilled with everything he was accomplishing and the money it was bringing in for all of them, but that didn’t fulfill her like getting behind the camera did. There was something about capturing a person’s emotions on film that spoke to the deepest part of her. She had accepted that she probably wouldn’t get a chance to marry her soul mate or show off a new baby to the world. Hell, she hadn’t even had a high school graduation, just a GED sent in the mail. But somehow, documenting other people’s happy milestones helped fill the space inside her where she should’ve been storing her own. And it was time to start filling it again.
She picked up her phone to return the first call, but the bells on the studio’s front door jangled, halting Evan from her task. She looked up from her desk with a frustrated huff to find her friend Callie sweeping through the door, her mass of blonde curls staging a riot against the clip fastened at the back of her head. Callie pushed the offending locks from her face and beamed at Evan. “You’re here! I thought you weren’t coming back to work until Monday. I was just about to call you to wish you a happy early birthday when I saw your car parked out front.”
Evan smiled as she hung up the phone and stood. Callie dropped her overstuffed purse to the floor and rushed toward her to give her a hug. Evan laughed while the taller woman squeezed her for dear life.
“Wow, I . . . uh . . . missed you, too.”
“What are you doing here? I thought Daniel was going to keep you all to himself this week.”
“I just stopped in for a few minutes to return some calls before I reopen next week.”
Callie finally released her and put her hands on her hips. “For the record, you are not allowed to take this much time off ever again. I swear if I have to have one more lunch with Flower Shop Trisha, I’m going to keel over. She’s so prim and proper, I feel like I’m having soup with the queen or something. I know she’s probably lighting candles for me at church after some of the stuff I’ve slipped up and told her.”
“Well your immortal soul could probably use all the help it can get.”
Callie plopped into the chair in front of Evan’s desk. “Amen, sister. Though I just finished a weeklong cayenne and lemon juice detox. The way it’s been going, I think even my soul is cleansed.”
Evan snorted. “Why on earth are you doing that?”
Beyond the fact that Callie bashed diets regularly for cutting into her profits at her bakery across the street, she’d always seemed comfortable with her curves.
Her grin turned sly. “Well, a lot has happened since you went gallivanting around the country with that man of yours.”
“Oh, really? Do tell.”
“I have a new boyfriend,” she said in a singsong voice. “A new, devastatingly handsome, completely wonderful boyfriend. Even Finn gave him the thumbs-up in the looks department, and you know how picky that kid is. So I don’t want to look like a dumpling next to him when we go out.”
“Hold up. A new boyfriend? Cal, I talked to you at least once a week. You didn’t even mention you were seeing someone.”
“I didn’t want to jinx it,” Callie said, crossing her arms with a huff. “Every time I tell you about how great some guy I’m seeing is, I find out the next week that he has some catastrophic flaw—like he has an addiction to hookers or is a diabetic and can’t eat cake. You’re bad luck.”
Evan shook her head, amused. Her friend did have abysmal luck when it came to men, but somehow she doubted it had anything to do with a jinx. Cal had a tendency of falling fast and asking questions later. Evan had learned that warning her to slow down was like talking to a coffee table. And hell, who was she to give relationship advice? She was marrying her gay best friend.
She leaned forward and placed her chin on her hands. “All right, so dish. Who is he? What’s he do? And, more important, does he like baked goods?”
Callie sat up straighter, obviously bubbling over after holding back the secret so long. “His name is Brandon. He’s a nurse over at the cancer center. And he’s a total slut for chocolate cupcakes.”
“Sounds amazing.”
“Totally,” she said, her eyes getting a little starry. “He’s picking me up for my end-of-diet lunch. I texted him to meet me over here.”
“Great.”
“He loved the photos you have hanging in the shop, by the way. Said you knew how to make a piece of pie look downright seductive.”
Evan laughed. “My claim to fame—sexy cherry pie.”
“Hey,” she said, pointing at her, “don’t underestimate yourself. I sell more of the products you photographed than any others. Seriously, you have a gift of making things look irresistible on film.”
Evan’s stomach clenched a bit with that last part. A gift. Yes, once upon a time she’d made someone a whole lot of money with that innate talent. She rubbed her arms through her sleeves, trying to fight off the creeping chill that always came with those horrid memories.
“Hey now, there’s an idea,” Callie said, completely oblivious to Evan’s sudden discomfort.
She took a deep breath and tried to refocus on the conversation. “What’s that?”
“I should get you to take pictures of me.”
“Huh?” Evan’s eyebrows knitted.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Callie waved her off. “I’m serious. I’ve been trying to come up with something to get Brandon for his birthday, and I bet he would totally be into some sexy boudoir-style pics. We haven’t, ya know, done the deed yet, so maybe that would get the ball rolling. He’s that gentlemanly type and his slow approach is kind of driving me crazy.”
Evan frowned. “Maybe slow isn’t a bad thing.”
