The Snapshot Bride Page 3

  Specks of displaced dust whirled about, the sweet, musky scent floating up to her as she pulled in an invigorated breath.

  A flash of memories poured into her mind as she took in the items. An old-fashioned toy bus made of wood. Big enough for a toddler to sit on. She and Marissa had each done that very thing. Mom had the pictures to prove it. And there were Gramps’s posing blocks. She could’ve used those on the small family she’d just photographed. Each block, roughly the size of a phone book, varied in thickness, perfect for propping dad a little taller when mom was too close to his height. Or for making the little guy kneeling in back come up just a little higher so his chin and neck would show.

  There was so much to take in, Kira could hardly get her eyes to settle on just one thing. Gramps never had been the organized sort. Always seemed to have more of that mad scientist thing going on. Or maybe Picasso was a better comparison. Artists were said to be messy, weren’t they? Gramps had a way of thriving among chaos. Kira, on the other hand, did not; her mind was already chaotic enough.

  She glanced over the deep, dark shelves filling the walls at either side of the closet. They were practically bare, which was good news. She spent the next two hours wiping down shelves and organizing props into place. Since she hadn’t brought any labels (she’d need to add those to her list), she tore up an old receipt from her purse, creating labels to organize the props.

  She hadn’t kept a close eye on the time, but when the small bell at the storefront chimed, Kira knew exactly who it was. And lucky her—she’d get to look at him from behind the lens for as long as she’d like.

  The canvas cover nearly tripped her as she hurried over it with a few quick steps. “Hi,” she burst out as she came around the corner. Holy handsomeness in jeans and a tee. “You made it.”

  “Yeah.” He shifted his posture, shoved a hand into his back pocket, and looked over his shoulder as if he were bored already. And what was this? A strap of leather, knotted at the back of his neck, dipped beneath the collar of his white tee in front. Before the shoot was through, Kira planned to see what sort of pendant hung from that strand of leather.

  “Well, you are in luck,” Kira said, folding her arms as she strode toward him. She looked him up and down with a nod. “I think I found a few props to go with this rebel-without-a-cause look you’ve got going on.” And she wasn’t kidding. He looked dangerous. To women who wanted to hold on to their hearts, anyway.

  “Rebel, huh?” He let out a low chuckle. “What makes you think I don’t have a cause for it?” His dark eyes held hers.

  “Do you have a cause for it?”

  He shot her a wink. “Guess you’ll just have to find out.”

  Heat rushed up her neck, crept steadily toward her face until she felt it flare in her cheeks. It’d been a while since she’d flirted with a man she was actually attracted to. Kira had been born knowing how to flirt with the guys. Her mom and aunts always said so. And while that statement might be true, there was rarely any intent behind her playful teasing and raised brows.

  “Let’s see … I was hoping to start yours in the window ledge over here, if that’s okay.” She motioned to the elevated space along the storefront’s massive window. A window that nearly took up the entire face of the studio.

  “You mean I don’t get to hop onto that wagon over there?” He nodded toward the setup by the backdrop.

  “How about we save that for next time.”

  Anthony turned to look out the window. “Are people going to see me when they walk by?”

  “Probably not,” she lied.

  “Oh, then what’s the point?”

  The two shared a laugh. “How about this,” Kira said. “When you ask me a question, tell me what you’d like the answer to be, and we’ll go as follows.”

  “What would be the fun in that?”

  Kira pinned her lips and stifled a grin. “You’re really going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”

  Anthony shook his head. “Nah, I won’t. Promise. Where would you like me?” He shuffled over to the two-foot ledge and climbed up, ducking as the extra height brought him close to the ceiling.

  “You’re taller than I realized,” she said.

  “Yeah, I’ve grown a little since grade school,” he said.

  Yes, he had. “Go ahead and sit on the floor with your back against the brick, and your legs stretched out before you.” She dashed over to where her tripod stood and unfastened the camera by twisting the small knob that secured it. Once it was free, Kira looped the sturdy strap around her neck and headed back toward the window.

  She walked quickly at first, anxious to get to work, but as her gaze settled over the sight in the display window, she slowed. Her breathing did, too. When one stumbles onto a wild buck in its natural habitat, the last thing they want to do is scare it away and ruin the view. She stopped in place, lifted the camera, and looked at him through the viewfinder. With the slightest turn of the ribbed lens, he came into sharp, glorious focus.

  The rustic brick wall at his back had nothing on his muscular arms and chest, the contours visible even through his tee. Head tipped back, eyes closed, chin lifted enough to reveal the outline of his well-defined jaw. He must have showered between his shift at the diner and coming here, because his black hair was damp, which—with its length and slight wave—added to his appeal all the more. And while one leg was stretched straight before him as she’d instructed, the other was bent at the knee, revealing a perfect tear in his jeans. If hallelujah choirs existed in her head, they were singing their praises in that moment. He was one of God’s creations, after all.

  She snapped a picture, zoomed in a bit more, and captured another one. Kira paused to look at the small digital screen. Dang, she’d cut off part of his leg in the full-body shot. That was a shame, seeing that he’d worn a rather good-looking pair of cowboy boots. She was rustier than she thought. Kira stepped back, widened the angle, and snapped a few more. The outdoor lighting was perfect, pouring in from the window to accent his features. Wow. Talk about magazine ready.

  She ducked behind the lens once more and zoomed in on his face as she took a few steps closer. He was one of those guys who gave five-o’clock shadow a good name. The short, dark scruff accented the masculine cut of his jaw and chin. The pendant was showing now—a small wooden cross, rough around the edges as if it’d been hand carved.

  At once, Anthony’s eyes opened. He pulled his head away from the wall and set his eyes on her. “Tell me when you’re ready, I guess,” he said, his demeanor shifting.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “I mean, am I supposed to look at you and smile like a cheese ball, or what?”

  Kira chuckled. “That wasn’t exactly the direction I planned to give you,” she said, glancing at the shots she’d taken so far. The frame on those offered a lot more wiggle room for cropping. “I was sneaking a few candid pictures in while your eyes were closed. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “You were?” He brought a hand up to his chest. “I feel violated.”

  “Shut up,” she teased, encouraged by his playful nature.

  “So is this your lucky music or are you just trying to set the mood?” He’d lowered his voice for that last part.

  “Oh,” Kira said, realizing she still had her phone going in the background. “My mind has the tendency to wander,” she explained. “I mean, really—some days it’s all over the place. This just helps keep it under control. Like reins on a wild horse.”

  He grinned. And it was a shame she hadn’t had the camera poised, because it was brilliant. “A wild horse. I like that.”

  With the slow exhale of a very deep breath, Kira forced her mind back on the task before her. A wonderful one at that. She could spend hours taking pictures of a guy like Anthony. It was safe to say that—for the next little while—keeping her mind from wandering would be a breeze.

  Chapter 5

  Anthony couldn’t remember being so self-conscious. It felt like he
was back in junior high, passing the girls’ tennis team on his way to wrestling. Overhearing giggles and whispers. Of course, all he could hear now was the occasional click of the camera when the music waned, but who knew what Kira was thinking on the other side of that lens?

  She had done a fair amount of flirting, complimenting everything from the ink on his “buff biceps” to the “loose natural wave” of his “Banderas-like hair.” Kira Moretti knew how to reel a guy in, and Anthony couldn’t help but go along for the ride. Not that he wasn’t leery in love after his bad experiences, but he hadn’t sworn off it completely. Call it hope or youth or pure foolishness, but he was starting to wonder if Kira was the reason he’d been compelled to stick it out here in Cobble Creek. After all, Mr. Moretti had been disappointed when—after Kira finally made it out there to apprentice for him—Anthony had been off chasing Elsie. “If you would’ve just stuck around, she might not have left,” he’d said. And while his voice had carried a teasing tone, Anthony got the impression that Angelo had truly hoped the two might hit it off.

  “Wow, you are off in another land, aren’t you?”

  Anthony shook his head, then ran a hand over his face before setting his gaze on Kira. “Another land?”

  She lowered the camera and grinned. “Yeah. What’s holding your thoughts?”

  “Just …” He shrugged. “Remembering the time you came out here to see about taking over for Angelo. How I was gone during that time.”

  Kira cradled the camera base in her palm as she lifted the strap up and off of her neck. She strode over to an open metal case. Black foam padding filled the bottom layer, save for a space the size of the camera carved out in the center. “Yeah.” She nestled the body of the camera into the protected spot and draped the strap over top. “Gramps was pretty upset that you were gone.”

  “He was?” Anthony had lost track of how many times Angelo had talked about Kira, but he hadn’t known if the man ever talked to Kira about him.

  She closed the case and hoisted it into a nearby cabinet. “Oh yeah. I always got the impression he was hoping to set us up.”

  Anthony felt that one in his toes; turns out it wasn’t just in his head. He shot her a wink. “Smart man.”

  “Very,” she agreed.

  Anthony couldn’t decide which he liked best—the way Kira agreed so quickly, or the smile she wore in the process.

  “Well …” she said, padding over to the studio lights and clicking them off. A shallow pop bounced off the hardwood, one after the next. “I’m starving. Want to get a bite to eat?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Sounds good to me. If you’re up for some pizza, I know of a nice place in Duckdale Hollow next to the bowling alley. We could play a few games too, if you’re up for it.” He gulped, hoping the offer wouldn’t scare her away.

  “Bowling? Man, I haven’t knocked pins since I was, like, sixteen.”

  Anthony shot her a look. “Knocked pins?”

  “I mainly had guy friends in school. That’s what we always called it.” She ran a hand along the back of her neck, nodding. “Well, if you don’t mind following me to the duplex, I can pull on a pair of jeans before we go.”

  “Not at all,” he assured. “We can take my car from there, since Duckdale’s about thirty minutes from town.” He patted at his pockets before remembering the jacket he’d removed. “Want any help closing things down in here?”

  Kira spun slowly in place before setting her eyes back on him. “Nope. Think we’re ready to rock.”

  Yep, she still had it. Kira had gotten a gorgeous guy to ask her out on her second night in town. And not just any gorgeous guy. One who might possibly be the real Italian deal. She tugged on her favorite pair of knee-torn jeans before snatching her tan cowgirl boots off the floor. At the window, she pried the metal blinds to see Anthony’s shiny black truck waiting in the driveway, the sight visible thanks to a nearby streetlamp.

  A quick shirt change allowed for an extra layer of deodorant, just in case, and soon she was out the door and wondering why she hadn’t bothered to grab her jacket. Already the sun had set, and night had already proven to bring a layer of frost with it.

  Anthony hopped down from the truck as she stepped along the narrow walk. “You look nice,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  He reached to open the passenger door for her, and the words that’s not necessary worked their way up Kira’s throat so quickly they’d almost snuck off her tongue. But she bit them back; Gramps would be furious if she stopped a guy from acting like a gentleman. Even if she could open her own door just fine.

  Climbing up was a different story. The tires were nearly as tall as she was. Kira accepted Anthony’s hand as she climbed onto the running board and grabbed the handle inside to steady herself. Once she was seated, Anthony closed her door and walked back to his side in the glow of the headlights. A longhaired James Dean with muscled arms and cross tattoos.

  “So,” she said once he was settled behind the wheel. “Couldn’t find the T. rex tires?”

  He glanced over while shifting the gear into reverse. “What was that?”

  “I mean they must have been out of the T. rex, since you got the rare giganotosaurus wheels.”

  “Ah …” He tipped his head back. “But if I had smaller tires, I wouldn’t get to help a lady into my truck, now, would I?”

  Kira rolled her eyes, secretly loving his accent; it sounded good on him. “So were you born in Brooklyn?” she asked, recalling what Gramps told her.

  “Yeah,” he said. “But we didn’t stay there for long. My mother wanted to own a small-town diner. Serve up good old-fashioned American food. My old man, who was running an Italian sub shop, wanted to make her dreams come true. So he put the place up for sale, gave up his own dream to help her accomplish hers.” He flicked on his blinker and took a right at the end of Chapel Street. “She wanted to be as far away from Brooklyn as she could get—not sure why. She had her heart set on living in the country. Own a couple horses. I don’t know, just have a different life, I guess.” He shrugged.

  “My old man was the pleasing type, you know? He wanted her to have it all. So he found the perfect place. Had everything she could’ve wanted and more. But I don’t know, I guess it wasn’t what she wanted after all.”

  Kira felt a frightened prick in her heart. It was something she’d feared about herself. Was she the type of person who would never be satisfied, or would she be able to settle down and be content with life here in Cobble Creek? Only time would tell. “So what happened?” she asked, her voice soft.

  “About two years into it, I’d just started elementary school, I believe, she suddenly wanted something else. A whole new life … again. This time she wanted to move outside of the US and live on an island. Go off-grid, as they say, without modern technology and all that.”

  “Wow,” Kira said. “And did she do that?”

  Anthony’s jaw tightened. His dark brows turned hard. “Yep. And if that didn’t stick, she didn’t bother letting us know. We lost track of her. I wasn’t even able to get hold of her for my dad’s funeral.”

  “I can’t imagine that. I’m sorry.”

  “My dad used to say she must have picked Cobble Creek for us. She may not have taken to country life, but he couldn’t picture a softer place to land.” Anthony shrugged. “When he died, I was lucky to be surrounded by good people. In addition to your granddad, I had folks from church and the diner. Gordon Graham, the pharmacy owner. Chuck and Don, couple of old guys who sneak out for a greasy morning breakfast before they golf together Saturday mornings.” He shot her a look. “I say sneak because their wives would have a conniption if they knew they were eating bacon and sausage behind their backs. And they refuse to entertain our low-calorie options. Sounds like they get enough of that at home.”

  Kira chuckled. “Guess we’ve all got our secrets.”

  “Do we, now?” Anthony lifted a brow.

  She tried to squelch the smile that spread over her lip
s at his insinuative tone. “Oh, you can just stop it right there, Sparky.”

  “Sparky?”

  “I can see right where you’re going with this, but it won’t work. I’m not dishing any dirt.”

  Anthony stretched an arm over the back of the seat, kept a light grip on the wheel. “First you tell me you’ve got a secret, and then you say you’ve got dirt to dish, and if I put those together I can only assume you’ve got a dirty secret.”

  “I don’t,” she assured. “Just a bunch of … dumb ones, really.”

  “Dumb secrets are my favorite,” he said, earning another laugh from her.

  A deep sigh followed. Anthony’s issues were different; being abandoned by a mom, losing a dad, those were hardships brought on by circumstance. Things he couldn’t have avoided. And here he was, making the best out of it. Kira, on the other hand, had made her own messes.

  “I don’t even think you could call them secrets,” she said. “My stuff’s just … out there.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I’m listening.”

  Dread washed over her like an acid bath. Why ruin her chances with the guy before he had a chance to fall for her? But then a thought came to mind. “Hey, why were you gone during that time? When I came and stayed with Angelo?”

  “Ah—I guess if I have a dark secret that would be it. Or at least, it’s a mistake I wish I hadn’t made.” He looked over and seemed to inspect her for a bit before setting his eyes back on the open road. “How about this? We put the heavy talk on hold, skip to something lighter while we eat, then put this back on the table at the bowling alley. Deal?”

  Kira nodded, relieved that she wasn’t the only one with an imperfect past. Already, it made Anthony more real than he’d appeared a moment ago. “Deal.”