“You caught me. I grew up around here, but I just moved back from California.”
“Ah,” he says while leaning his side against the bar. “What for? Work? Family?”
I let out an uncomfortable laugh. Not that I’m uncomfortable with this beautiful man but because I’m not used to talking at length with strangers. Especially ridiculously good-looking ones. “Both, I guess.”
“So, you’re a photographer, huh?”
“I am.”
“Do you have a card or something? I’d love to check out your work.”
“Not on me at the moment. Sorry.”
He tilts his head. “What kind of photography?”
Something about his curiosity and flirtatious demeanor spark something deep in my chest. Excitement, maybe. It’s been a long time since I felt open to bantering with a member of the opposite sex. I’d almost forgotten about the bubbly feeling that goes hand in hand with my racing pulse. But then I remember that he only came over because he felt guilty for his earlier behavior. That’s all it takes to talk myself out of entertaining his prolonged apology.
“You don’t have to do this, you know?”
He looks genuinely confused. “Do what?”
I gesture between me and him. “This. Make nice because you feel bad for earlier. You apologized. You bought me dinner.” I smile to let him know I mean it wholeheartedly. “You’re forgiven.”
“What if I don’t want to be forgiven so soon?”
I’m a little afraid to take the bait on that one. “Then I’d say that you’re doomed to a lifetime of disappointment.”
His smile almost blinds me, and I’m not the only one who notices it. A gaggle of girls on the other side of the bar gaze at him like he’s some sort of rock god. I tear my eyes away from them and look back at him as he runs his fingers through his thick hair. The movement shouldn’t drive me to press my thighs together from the warmth that builds between them, but it absolutely does. But that’s not all. I catch a whiff of his scent too—even that is perfection. It’s like he just showered in some rich spa filled with tropical fruits and the ocean breeze.
I’ve been around this man for less than ten minutes, and all my senses are coming alive as if for the first time, and everything about that is terrifying.
I swallow, hoping that when I speak again, I don’t sound as flustered as I feel. “Okay then, well…” I lift my glass in a toast. “Here’s to you and your guilty conscience, I guess.”
His eyebrows bend together. “That’s not fair. I didn’t bring my drink over.”
Just then, Harry sets a bag of food on the counter. I eye it then take a swig of my drink. “Hate to break it to you…” I snatch the bag while setting my drink down. “But life is anything but fair.”
With a final glance at the gorgeous specimen of a man I hope to never see again, I give him a tilted smile and a nod. “Thanks for dinner.”
CHAPTER THREE
ASHER
Not a second after the woman walks away, I realize I never even asked for her name. I twist my neck to stare at the doorway she’s walking through and have a long debate with myself about whether I should go after her. Instinct has my muscles twitching, but experience freezes me on the spot.
There’s no question she’s beautiful, with dark hair that frames her heart-shaped face and lashes so long they pull me straight into her big green eyes. To top it off, she was nice enough to accept my apology without too much grief. But my inexperience with dating has done more harm than good in the confidence department.
I turn back around to find Harry setting down a glass of whiskey I’d never ordered.
“Thought you could use that.” He winks, clearly referencing the woman I just totally blew it with.
“Thanks, Harry. You’re a mind reader.”
He nods and whips a towel from his back pocket to begin wiping down a glass.
Back at the high-top, I sit down in my stool across from Dane and hand him a new drink. I’d just met the guy tonight actually, and he fit right in with the rest of us. He seems laid back. After Lars, Beck, and Greg took off, Dane stuck around. Apparently, he’s been pretty unhappy in his job and might end up as a security guard at Bayside Regional, which would be cool.
“Thanks, dude.”
“No problem.” I hold up my whiskey, and he meets me halfway to clank glasses. “Thanks for sticking around. I saw someone I recognized at the bar and wanted to say hi.”
Dane quirks a brow. “Saw that. You get her number?”
My glass is pressed to my lips when I chuckle and shake my head. I take a quick swig and set it back down. “Didn’t even get her name.”
He widens his eyes and whistles. “That’s a shame. What if you never see her again?”
“What makes you think I want her number?”
Dane sits up straight, a sly smile tipping his cheeks. “Maybe it was the way you fucked her with your eyes. You weren’t hiding it well.”
My phone buzzes before I can give him a smart retort. “Shoot. I need to check this. One second.”
Ignoring the lingering thoughts I have for the mystery woman, I pull out my phone and tap to read a new message from Aaron.
Becca knows a photographer. She says to call her.
Okay, I type back quickly. Send me her info.
I will.
Wish me luck.
You need more than luck. The stair climb is in less than a month.
Annoyance shakes through me at yet another reminder of the ball that I dropped.
Don’t you have a dance class to skip off to?
You’re just jealous my moves will be better than those back-breaking ones of yours.
I chuckle and shake my head.
Oh, it’s on.
Call her, he types again. From what Bec says, you’ll need to talk her into working with a bunch of sweaty Tampa firefighters.
My lip tips up on one side in a half smile. Is that how you want me to word it? What if she says no?
Then I guess you have less time to find someone else. Let me know how it goes.
The next message is a contact card. Meadow Matthews is the woman’s name. There’s also a website address, so I click it and open up a gallery of photos featuring a variety of studio and outdoor shots, most of which feature families, newborns, or newly engaged couples. But when I tap on a link for fantasy, I immediately understand what makes this woman stand out from the rest. Each photo in this gallery is enhanced with some type of supernatural element, whether it’s butterfly wings on a baby or an engagement photo set on the moon. My imagination goes wild when I think about all the possibilities that having a talent like Meadow would open up for our calendar shoot.
I look up to find Dane’s eyes on the television.
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m organizing a fundraising event, and I dropped the ball recently. I’m trying to secure a photographer, and my buddy just gave me her information.”
“Oh yeah?” Dane asks, appearing interested. “What’s the event?”
I let out a laugh. “A firefighter calendar.” Before Dane can react, I launch into my brief rundown. “Our station put together a calendar as a joke last year. Super low budget because we didn’t expect much to come from it. And man, those babies sold like hotcakes all over the area. The local radio station even picked up the story. So we took all that money and donated it. This year, my buddy Aaron and I are organizing the event for real. Bigger budget, and we’re donating the proceeds to the Burn Foundation to help burn victims and their families.”