Something Precious (Miami Stories Book 3)

by Brooke St. James

That stab of disappointment turned into an actual pain in my chest. I hated being jealous, but I couldn't help it. Even after all these years of being in the friend zone, I hated hearing him say another woman's name. I was, however, a pro at hiding my disappointment on the subject.

  I smiled and nodded.

  "So, did Ash and Abby ask you to take photos?" he asked since I still hadn't addressed the fact that I had my camera.

  I shook my head. "No, I just take this one everywhere. I tried to make myself leave it at home, but I knew I'd end up regretting it."

  Jake reached out and took the camera out of my hands. I had no idea what he was doing… I thought for a second that he was trying to get onto me for working on my night off and wasn't going to let me have it back, but he just held it up, pointing it directly at me.

  I put my hands in the air in an excited "jazz hands" pose, wearing a huge smile. Then I made a few silly faces when I saw that he was snapping multiple pictures. Jake was laughing as he handed me back the camera.

  Just before I could take it from him, he pulled it back as if he had changed his mind. He turned the camera, pointing it at his own face, and taking a picture of himself.

  "I probably missed," he said, handing it back to me. "I couldn't see where I was aiming."

  "It's a wide-angle lens," I said. "So, I'm sure you at least got most of yourself in the frame.

  Jake ran his hand through his hair. I was just about to joke with him about how he never had a hair out of place when Clara walked up to stand beside him.

  She didn't just walk—she rushed. One second, she wasn't there, and the next, she was. The gorgeous Latin lady had materialized out of thin air, causing me to feel nauseated.

  Clara was pretty tall, but Jake was a big guy, so he was still quite a bit taller than her. He shifted to stare down at her when she cozied up by his side.

  "I looove this song," she said.

  It was an Ed Sheeran song. I wasn't sure of the name but it was the one that said, "We found love right where we are." Clara held onto Jake's side, seeming to identity with the lyrics. I was amazed by how she could somehow pull off being corny and beautiful at the same time.

  She smiled as she turned to me. "Hey Kristen," she said. I wished I could say her smile was insincere or jealous, but it wasn't. She seemed completely confident and sweet as she stared at me.

  "Hey," I said, trying to smile at her with the same measure of sincerity.

  "Jake told me Suzanne hired you to do the photoshoot for her swimsuit line."

  I nodded. "She did," I said. "We worked out a date. It's a couple of weeks from now."

  "I think we're doing it on the eighth," Jake said.

  "It is the eighth," Clara said nodding at him. "I remember because I had to find a replacement for my roll classes that morning."

  I nodded and smiled even though I didn't understand why Clara would need to take off work to be at Jake's photoshoot.

  "We went over to her house today so she could let us try on the suits we'll be wearing," Clara added. "She wanted to decide who was wearing what before the shoot. They're really nice! I told Jake I hoped she lets us take them home afterwards."

  I was usually pretty quick to catch onto things, but it took me a second to realize that all the words coming out of Clara's mouth indicated to me that she would also be modeling swimsuits in the upcoming photoshoot.

  Maybe the possibility of her doing it should have occurred to me sooner, but it hadn't. This whole conversation came as a huge freaking surprise.

  In those seconds, when realization dawned on me, I had visions of having to take pictures of the two of them half-naked, modeling swimsuits together. My brain instantly went to photos of them posed in the same frame—like Suzanne would get the idea for them to take provocative pictures since they were models who happened to be a couple.

  "Are you modeling in the shoot?" I asked. I had to pretend to be confused because the smile had uncontrollably fallen from my face.

  "Oh, yeah, I'm sorry. I thought you knew that. Did Jake not tell you? We're both doing it."

  Jake nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I think Suzanne's got four girls and four guys. We met a few of the others at her house today."

  "I hope she, at least, lets me keep that black suit," Clara said, shifting her attention to Jake.

  I wore a casual smile, but really, I felt like I could be sick. I seriously felt nauseated. I suddenly hated myself for agreeing to do the shoot. I knew I wouldn't back out of it now that I had squared everything away with Suzanne, but I already dreaded it immensely.

  "You could start your collection now, if you want," Clara said.

  Her statement had come out of nowhere, and it wasn't until she stood right next to Jake and smiled at me with that duckface women loved so much that I realized she was telling me that she wanted me to take their picture—her and Jake.

  "K.K.'s not working tonight," Jake said. "She's just got her camera for fun."

  "We're fun," Clara insisted.

  Jake shot me a somewhat apologetic look as she sided up next to him. Clara, on the other hand, shot me a huge beaming smile like she expected me to hop to it and snap the photo. Rather than tell her the truth (which was that there were about a million things I'd rather photograph than her and Jake together) I smiled and picked up my camera, snapping three quick photos of them.

  I wore a pleasant smile, thinking the whole time that I was going delete them from my camera as soon as possible. These would be deleted before I even uploaded the photos to my computer.

  Chapter 4

  There were so many distractions at Abigail and Ash's party that I soon forgot the frustrating situation that happened with Jake and Clara when I first came in. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was still slightly annoyed with learning that I would be taking pictures of Clara in my upcoming photoshoot, but even that seemed like no big deal once I started hanging out with my other friends.

  I got to catch up with people I hadn't seen in a long time. Even my lingering sickness and my headache were no match for the fun I was having. I had been there for over an hour, and I didn't feel much like leaving. I loved the atmosphere, and most of all, I loved seeing how happy Abigail was. It was inspiring. I couldn’t wait to experience that same feeling.

  I had danced some, but currently, I was sitting at a table with some of my friends. A few of them, the ones who were sitting closest to me, got up to dance. There were a few people on the other side of the table, and I could have moved closer to talk to them, but I felt content to remain where I was. "Are you resting on the job?"

  I glanced up to find a handsome young man standing behind the chair next to me. I regarded him, trying to figure out if I recognized him or not. After a few seconds of trying to place him, I realized I couldn't. I thought about what he said. He asked if I was resting on the job. He motioned to my camera as if to further explain what he was asking.

  I smiled. "More like I'm jobbing on the rest."

  He let out a little chuckle. "What's that mean?"

  "I am a photographer," I said. "But I'm supposed to have the night off."

  "Jobbing on the rest," he muttered, smiling. He pulled out the chair next to me. "Do you mind?" he asked.

  I shook my head, and he situated himself in the chair by my side.

  "I saw you dancing," he said.

  I giggled. "Oh, no."

  "No, it was good. You're good. I liked it."

  I didn't know how to take such a compliment, so I just smiled shyly and shook my head.

  "I assume you're a friend of the bride's," he said.

  "Friend, roommate, everything," I said. "Abigail's my girl."

  "Oh, maid of honor, then."

  I smiled and shrugged. "If there was one."

  He stared at me like he was trying to figure out what to say next. "I knew you were special," he said, finally. He spoke with sincerity which took me a little by surprise. I paused, trying to figure out how to respond. "Thanks," I said, since saying nothing felt w
rong.

  "I'm Preston. Preston Gentry."

  "Kristen," I said. "Hall. Kristen Hall."

  "Kristen Hall the photographer."

  I smiled. "At your service."

  "I work on my days off, too, if it makes you feel any better."

  "What do you do?" I asked. "I'm an engineer by day, but I do martial arts and personal fitness and all that. Strength and conditioning. That stuff's my first love. I’m ex-military."

  "How do you know Ash and Abigail?" I asked wondering if either of them had a trainer.

  "I play the cello," he said, surprising me. "Nothing like Ash, but I do play with the symphony. It's just part-time for people like me—a hobby."

  "That's a lot of stuff," I said, staring at him with a perplexed expression. "Engineer, martial arts, fitness, cello, and military."

  "Ex-military," he said. "But yeah, I stay busy."

  "I guess so."

  In the seconds that followed, this guy stared at me intensely. I could tell he really liked me and he was trying to figure out a way to tell me without being too forward.

  Music was blaring in the background, and he just sat there, regarding me with all the lights and sounds swirling around us. He was dressed well—clean-cut and clean-shaven with dark hair and eyes. He had the shadow of a beard even though he had just shaved, and I knew he could grow a beard in about ten seconds if he wanted to. He was a nice-looking guy, and I caught myself inspecting his face and asking myself if I was attracted to him.

  I actually thought I was.

  I certainly respected that he played music and did all sorts of other cool stuff. I had always been attracted to go-getters. That was one reason I loved Jake. He had completed law school and passed his bar exam, but he wanted a career that would allow him time to focus on other things he loved—outdoorsy things like fishing and rowing.

  Long story short, through hard work and ingenuity, he had partnered with a computer guy, and they had developed an app that was in the process of making them a fortune. It was an easy to use app for legal advice and guidance. I remembered Jake telling his uncle about it a couple of years before when he first had the idea. He was saying he couldn’t believe something like that didn't already exist. Jake had the idea and the legal knowledge (or access to the legal knowledge), and his partner had the computer know-how. It was a match made in heaven.

  Jake's goal was to work as a lawyer until the app took off, at which time, he could quit. Everything happened sooner than he thought, and he had only worked at the firm part-time on a volunteer basis while he was studying for his bar. He was now making enough with the app that he would never go to work full-time at the firm. He also tended bar at the very country club where we were for the reception.

  It seemed that Jake and Preston had a lot in common. They might not have the same interests, but they both seemed to know how to hustle. It was an attribute I admired.

  I had just been having thoughts of wanting to find happiness like Abigail, and I couldn't help but wonder if this Preston, this Jake substitute, was the sign I needed—the assurance that maybe I could one day love someone besides Jake Reynolds.

  I smiled inwardly, thinking how odd it would be if I started dating someone who played the cello like Ash. As soon as I had that thought, I told myself that I should relax a little. Sure, he was looking at me like he was interested, but maybe I was rushing things.

  "I'm not much of a dancer," Preston said, drawing me from my thoughts. "But I'd love to make an exception if you'd go out there with me."

  "Like right now?" I asked since he didn't strike me as much of a Cha Cha Slide type of guy.

  He shook his head. "No, I meant when they played something slower."

  I imagined myself slow-dancing with Preston. I had already danced a few times, once with Abigail's little brother, and again with a couple of friends. Those dances were casual and easy. This dance with Preston would be different—a little more formal, expectant.

  I got nervous just thinking about it. I almost said something to fill the silence. I almost told him that I'd been sick and had barely gotten better in time to make it to the wedding. I caught myself when I realized that maybe it wasn't the perfect thing to say to a prospective dance partner.

  "What do you do besides photography?" he asked.

  "I do a lot of stuff on the computer. Photoshop editing and a little graphic design. I mostly do newborn and children's photography, so I design birth announcements and birthday party invitations and things like that." I shrugged and gave him a self-deprecating grin. "I guess that all still falls under photography, though. I'm pretty active with volunteer work, too. I work with the youth group at my church and I volunteer at a women's shelter twice a week."

  "You're as busy as I am," he said.

  Just then, the band started playing a slow song. It was a classic wedding song—a classic song period. There was a male and female singer in the band, and the female singer began to belt At Last by Etta James.

  I knew the instant it began that Preston was going to ask me if I wanted to go out there. The song was a little bit epic for a first dance, but I went with it.

  "How about that dance?" he asked.

  I knew it was coming, so I was quick to nod and stand up. I wasn't aching to go out there with him, but at the same time, the thought didn't seem unappealing to me.

  I felt nervous as we found a spot and began to sway to the music. I knew he was into me, and I suspected I should be into him, too. I thought I could grow to like this guy, and I felt something akin to butterflies at the thought of trying.

  We danced for a minute without talking. I saw someone I knew but hadn't yet run into at the wedding, and I smiled at them when they caught my eye.

  "You're beautiful," Preston said, seeing me smile.

  I shook my head almost imperceptibly.

  "You are," he pressed.

  "Thank you," I said.

  "Why are you so shy about it?"

  "I'm not. I'm just not used to people… guys… whatever. I'm just not used to hearing that."

  "I’m surprised you don’t hear it all the time."

  I tilted my head as I tried to take in that statement. "I’m not," I said. "I mean, I don't think I'm bad looking or anything, but I don't think people go around telling people they're beautiful." I shrugged. "Even… (I almost said, 'women like Clara', but I stopped myself) the most gorgeous women in the world don't hear that from people."

  "I would say you're up there with the most gorgeous women in the world," he said.

  I let out a little chuckle, but then I saw that he was completely serious, so I controlled my expression. "Thank you," I said, sincerely. "That's really sweet of you."

  "I'm just being honest," he said. "It's not too often that you see this shade of blonde on someone who doesn't pay to have it done."

  "How do you know that I don't pay to have it done?" I asked.

  "I just do," he said. "I can tell the difference. That's your natural color."

  We danced for a few seconds without saying anything.

  "Am I right?" he asked. "About your hair? Is it natural?"

  "Yeah," I said, thinking how in the world he would know something like that?

  "You were probably really blonde when you were young," he said.

  "I was," I agreed, nodding. "I have an older sister whose hair is dark brown, almost black, and I came out toe-headed."

  "I bet she doesn't have your eyes, either," he said.

  I shook my head. My eyes were light—blueish-green, and Kayla's eyes were dark brown. "She's got dark eyes," I said.

  "Same dad?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  "It's funny how that works," he said. "I have brothers, and we all look the same."

  "Are they in Miami?"

  "My brothers? No. They're all in Georgia."

  "Is that where you grew up?"

  He nodded.

  "What brought you to Miami?"

  "I followed a woman," he said. He had a look on h
is face that made it seem like that had been a mistake, so I didn't ask any more about it. I felt the slightest tinge of jealousy at the mention of another woman in his life.

  This was a real relief.

  For years, the only man I had been jealous over didn’t know I existed. This man not only knew I existed, but he was also looking at me like I was an object of great interest and worth.

  It felt good to be looked at that way.

  Preston and I talked for another minute or two before the official wedding photographer came up to us. He held me a little closer when he realized the lady was taking a picture of us.

  I looked at her, but Preston looked at me. I knew this because the photographer reviewed the picture on the spot and then showed it to us.

  "I looove this one," she said. "Y'all are so cute."

  I knew the main photographer. He was an acquaintance of mine, and I had given Abigail his name when she asked for a referral. This was one of his assistants—a young woman I had never met before. She had no idea who I was.

  It was a good photo, actually, from a photographer's standpoint—me looking at the camera and Preston looking at me. I smiled thankfully and nodded at her after I glanced at it.

  "You'll have to ask the bride and groom for a link to our page so you can order a copy of that one," she said.

  "I will," I said, not bothering to explain that I would be the one going through all the proofs with Abigail and Ash.

  The band switched to a fast song just as the photographer was walking away, and I broke contact, taking a step away from Preston. I wasn't going to stand there and hold onto him while they were playing Uptown Funk.

  "I guess we only get one song," I said with a shrug.

  Preston shook his head, disagreeing with me. "We already got two," he said.

  "What?"

  "They played two slow songs just now," he said. "We danced to both of them."

  "Really?" I asked, feeling and looking genuinely shocked.

  He let out a laugh at my expression. "They played that Etta James song and then Stand By Me."

  "They played Stand By Me?"

  Preston smiled at my continued confusion and nodded.

  "That's crazy," I said. "I didn't even realize." I was going to add that the songs must be similar enough that they ran together, or that it must be that I wasn't feeling my best, but Preston spoke before I could.