She closed her eyes as a deep feeling of satisfaction washed over her. Kira wasn’t meant to be some world-renowned photographer who traveled the world with Finny Shea. She simply needed to be herself.
And if she could do that and have Anthony Marino by her side, she’d be one lucky girl—woman. Anthony was proving to be everything she could want in a man. More so, considering she never realized a man could make her feel the way he did. Complete. Accomplished. Good enough just the way she was.
Of course, life wouldn’t be life if there weren’t a few gremlins clinging to her subconscious. If Kira had to identify the one that threatened her now, it would be concern over the duplex and the sedan her old tenant left behind. Sure, they’d told her the duplex was paid up through April, but she needed to divide her focus each day. Photography was her passion. What a beautiful, happy, and wonderful thing that was to say with such surety. She loved coming up with new ways to earn money, bring in business, and serve the charming town of Cobble Creek.
Less appealing, and by that Kira meant way less appealing, were things like land-lording and car-selling (she hadn’t even signed up for that one), and making sure everything was paid up on time. And something she was really dreading, the reason she hadn’t done more than post a small “for rent” sign in the front yard, was going through the other dwelling. She had to make sure the tenant hadn’t left anything else behind. And she couldn’t just wait for someone to call and want to see the place. That wasn’t the time to dash over and play twenty-one pickup, as her mom used to call it. (Hey, who can pick up twenty-one pieces of trash the fastest?)
And while Kira knew all of these things, doing something about them was an entirely different story. It was the reason she often set herself up to fail. Well, not this time. First thing tomorrow, she would get started on that duplex. She had until eleven o’clock to open the studio. She’d be taking baby pictures for the sheriff and his adorable wife, Jessie. Her first hired job (besides Anthony) in Cobble Creek. And just like that, she had her mojo back.
She’d made mistakes in the past—who hadn’t?
She wasn’t perfect—who was?
But one thing she had was determination. And with that acknowledgment in full force, Kira drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 13
Anthony eyed the wall of clocks in the diner, guessing he had another hour before Kira showed up for her morning coffee. Heat stirred low in his belly at the mere thought of her. He was falling fast, but it was hard not to; Kira was fascinating. And she’d really blown him away yesterday. Shown him exactly why Angelo had willed Studio Click to her.
Anthony hated to admit it, even to himself, but it had been a relief. The woman really did have a natural gift. And beyond that, she had a great business sense. He hadn’t expected her to put on a presentation of the images she’d shot. Heck, she even had framing bids from three different companies, each complete with special non-glare glass so the bright lights wouldn’t obstruct the view of each portrait. Talk about going the extra mile.
He glanced over the old photos along the diner walls. He liked the posters of vintage cars, drive-in theaters, and the old-fashioned couple sharing a milkshake, but it was time for a facelift. Anthony could hardly wait for the frames to come in so he could get Kira’s photographs in place.
The door chime rang, drawing Anthony’s eyes to the front of the store. He expected to see Chuck and Don shuffling in, arguing over whose joints and back pain were worse. Instead, a brown-eyed angel stepped inside. Slender, yet curvy in her fitted jeans and a sweater, hair pulled into a bun that put his to shame. He watched as she scanned the place before her eyes fixed on him. She smiled, but something was off.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as she rushed over.
Kira clutched a barstool and dragged it back a few inches. She climbed onto the stool, plopped an elbow on the counter, and sank her face into her hand, eyes closed. A strand of wayward hair bouncing as the vents kicked on overhead. “I knew I would mess this up.”
The wall of clocks ticked behind her. A noise Anthony almost never heard during business hours. Yet it seemed her statement had caused everything else to stop in its tracks. The Tanners’ baby went from pouting to mute. Connie and the staff from CC’s Salon had been chuckling seconds ago, laughter loud enough to fill the room. But all of it stopped as Anthony took in Kira’s comment. The kind of thing he’d expect to hear from someone who could walk away with their hands in the air, declaring that things never went their way. They gave it a go, the old college try, failed, and now they were packing up and hitting the road.
Kira pulled her hand from her face. Her eyes flicked open. Wide at first, but then they narrowed. “Is everything okay?” she asked. The concern he saw in her expression said he’d left his poker face at home.
He shook his head. “No. I mean, I’m the one who should be asking that question.” Anthony had always been able to detect a lie with ease. There were things that changed in the person’s face after they’d spoken it. An odd tightness in the brow. The shift in their posture. Even the feigned sincerity on their face moments before as they plotted the structure of their words. He figured that’s why he was such a terrible liar himself. He could sense every tendency to do those very things as something less than true worked its way toward his lips.
He gulped as Kira searched his face, hoping she couldn’t see hints of the upset happening within him. If what he and Kira had was the meager starts of a promising fortress, it was already crumbling in his mind.
“What …” He shook his head, gulped, and dropped his gaze to a row of spotless glasses beneath the bar’s ledge. “You said you messed things up. How?” His heartbeat moved to his face in hot, frantic thumps as he waited.
“I got a call from my mom this morning, who said Gramps’s lawyer called her and asked for my email address. He’d sent me a few things and, when he didn’t get a response, feared maybe he had the wrong one.”
Anthony glanced up at her. “Okay,” he encouraged.
She tilted her head. “Mind if I get a cup of coffee?”
He straightened up, working to pull out of the premature meltdown. “Of course.” Anthony snatched a clean mug and filled it with the dark, aromatic brew. Perhaps he should’ve stuck with decaf that morning; his heart was still racing hard. He set the steaming mug down before her and slid the cream and sugar packets her way, already knowing exactly what she’d use: two packets of raw sugar and one small cup of plain cream.
Kira tore open the first packet of sugar and poured.
“So did he have the wrong email address? His lawyer?”
The next packet of sugar went in before she peeled back the foil lid of the cream. “No, I just … had no idea he’d be trying to communicate with me by email. I hate email. It’s just not something I’m used to having on my radar, you know?”
Anthony shook his head in irritation. “Would you just tell me what’s going on?”
Kira looked up from her coffee, eyes wide.
A tap came to his shoulder. “Just checked the inventory,” Howie said. “The only thing that didn’t come in with this morning’s order were pickle chips. I already called and let them know.”
Anthony glanced back. “Thanks, Howie.”
Kira caught his gaze. She didn’t have to ask; her eyes said it all. What in the world is wrong with you this morning?
“Sorry,” Anthony mumbled. “I just … if something’s wrong, I want to help you. And if I’m going to help you, I might need to shift some things around with my crew for the day.”
True, but that wasn’t the reason he was acting crazy. He was acting crazy because he was terrified that—as promising as things between them were—it was all about to end. It felt like she was taking her first steps toward that ominous white flag. The one every woman in his life seemed destined to wave.
“Well, it turns out that the duplex wasn’t paid off through April; it was only paid off to April, meaning the payment was due a few days ago. There�
��s a grace period, so I don’t technically have a late penalty yet, but the concern was that I hadn’t even registered an online account, which is how I’m supposed to pay, so …” She shrugged, seeming to relax slightly, and brought the mug to her lips.
“We need to get your place rented out.”
She nodded behind the mug.
“And that car sold.”
Another nod.
This was something Anthony could work with. His shoulders lifted. “What have you done to advertise the rental?”
“Just stuck a yard sign in the grass. But I was thinking that I could post a few flyers on the telephone poles along the street.”
Anthony shook his head, containing a chuckle in his throat. “Don’t do that. We had a big issue come up with Trent when he came into town—the sheriff. We can’t staple anything to those poles.”
“Oh, that reminds me! I’m supposed to shoot baby pictures of the sheriff’s daughter today at eleven. I can’t forget that.”
“No, you won’t.” He wouldn’t let her. “Is the rental ready for someone to move in?”
Kira shrugged. “I haven’t been inside yet.”
Anthony felt his eyes widen.
“Don’t judge me,” she said with a laugh. “I’ve had a million things going on. And in my defense, I thought I had until May to worry about payments. I’ve been focusing on the studio.”
Anthony wiped the judgment off his face in a flash and glanced at the clocks once more. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We have a little less than five hours before your sitting. I’ll let Howie take over for me. I’ll grab a few supplies from the shed and meet you at your place. We’ll make a list of what needs to be done. You can tell Jessie and Trent—when they show up at the studio—about the availability; they have great connections and can help spread the word. And by that point, we should know how close we are to having it ready.” There. He felt a thousand pounds lighter suddenly.
“Really?” Kira asked through a teary-eyed grin.
“Of course,” he assured. “We’ve got this.” Lingering false-alarm chemicals streamed through his system, attempting to further disrupt the peace that was already seeping into him; it would work. Catastrophe avoided. There’d been nothing to panic about after all. What he feared most was Kira having a change of heart. But late payments, finding tenants, and fixing up rentals? Those things Anthony could fix just fine.
He hated that he’d been so quick to crumble. Perhaps he would get better at this having-a-little-faith thing as time went on. He could only hope. After all, if he and Kira were going to make things work, they’d likely face a few bumps in the road.
Chapter 14
Kira stepped back to eye the wide arch between the entryway and the front room. Anthony had been right; buying this type of paint was worth the cost. One coat, and the walls in the duplex looked good as new.
With the paint roller still in hand, Kira tugged her phone from the front pocket of her baggy overalls. Nearly seven-thirty and the sun was barely starting to set; they were seeing an end to the dark days of winter at last.
She could hardly believe how much she and Anthony had accomplished since the frightening wake-up call last week. Yet disturbing as it was, that call had sparked a chain of much-needed progress. Thanks to Anthony, who quickly assessed the needs of the rental, they were able to come up with an approximate date that the duplex would be available. A timeframe Kira relayed to Trent and Jessie while taking sweet baby Abby’s pictures. Anthony had been right: the Lockhearts were happy to spread the word about the car and the duplex, saying the place should be rented in no time. In fact, she already had a showing scheduled for Saturday morning. Even more, a guy from the station put an offer on the car, which—as the tenant suggested—covered the missing rent.
Kira shuffled over the drop-cloth-covered floor, rested the roller at the edge of the paint pan, and climbed onto the window seat. It offered a perfect view of the quiet trail. One that, Kira found, led to the opposite side of the pond she’d dragged Anthony to so many years ago. Country life was beginning to show its draws, and Kira couldn’t be more pleased. Still, her attention was drawn to an even more spectacular view. One right there inside the duplex: Anthony.
He stood in the dining area, biceps bulging as he twisted a screwdriver with one hand and supported a chandelier with the other. Kira’s heart swelled like the rows of rising rolls she’d seen in the diner. Something that happened only when the recipe was right. The perfect balance of flour and salt, water, and yeast. Even the temperature mattered. And it seemed the more she learned about Anthony, the more he fit that bill of perfection.
She’d often heard the expression “it’s in the little things,” but Kira hadn’t been able to agree. Probably because she hadn’t found a guy who had the big things down. But now she understood. Things that were little to him were huge to her. Going out to start her car before she went home. Not casting judgment when she shared the broken parts of herself. And being there for her when she needed help.
Her mind drifted to the bigger parts that made Anthony who he was. The man she was quickly falling in love with. He was honest. Hardworking. And cared about the town he lived in. He sought to make it a better place.
Kira couldn’t get enough of the pictures she’d taken of him at the diner. It was safe to say she had a dozen favorites, but at the top of that list was the one she’d placed as her laptop screensaver. In it, Anthony stood at the bar, dressed in his kitchen whites, his muscular arms casually spread at either side of the counter. She’d caught him admiring a young family. New parents who fed their young babe his first taste of chocolate shake.
Anthony’s expression had said it all. He really did want that one day, like he said. And that—that fit into one of the big things. Because Kira wanted that, too. And while Cobble Creek was beginning to look like the perfect place to fulfill that life, Anthony was starting to look like the perfect man for it. He was definitely an ideal boyfriend.
The thought took her by surprise. Was he her boyfriend?
“Penny for your thoughts, Kira, Kira.”
She grinned. Not many people called her that. Mainly her grandparents, in fact. But she liked how it sounded in Anthony’s deep, raspy tone. “Um, you really want to know what I’m thinking?” she asked. “It might scare you away.”
Anthony, who’d finished hanging the light, had been walking toward her, but at her words he paused and looked up to meet her gaze. There was the look he’d worn the other morning in the diner.
Before she could dissect it further, his expression changed. He dragged a slow step across the drop cloth, a challenge sparking up in his eye. “Try me.”
“I know it’s only been, like, a month or so, but I was wondering what we should call this. Like if we’re officially dating or …”
Anthony’s brow lifted in what looked like genuine surprise.
Her heart thumped out one beat of regret. “We don’t have to call it anything if you don’t want to. Like I said, it’s early. It’s just that since we started dating each other, I haven’t felt like dating anyone else.” She recalled an incident she had in the store the other day. One she’d purposely not told him about, for fear he’d think she was trying to make him jealous. But now seemed like a good time to share it.
“On Tuesday, while I was at the market, some guy … what was his name—Seth. Yeah. Anyway, he asked me how to tell if a mango is ripe. I showed him, of course, but he kept the conversation going for a while. Asked if I was new here or just passing through.”
“Seth Steger,” Anthony said through clenched teeth.
Kira felt her eyes widen. “So … I take it you don’t like him?”
“No, I like him. We’re friends, actually. And if I hadn’t skipped poker night the last few weeks, he’d have known better than to hit on you.”
“Hmm,” Kira mumbled, biting back a laugh.
“So did he ask you out or what?”
“I think he sensed that I wasn’t in
to the idea, so he left off after saying he’d have to stop by the studio sometime. He wants me to take a look at this old camera he has. Tell him if it’s worth anything. Not that I’ll know …”
Anthony hadn’t moved so much as a muscle. She surveyed him for a breath; he looked like he’d stepped onto the runway for Italian Hunk Magazine. Face fixed in a distant glare. A tight black tee shirt streaked with ashy gray paint, ripped jeans that hung low on his hips, and skin that could force the sunset’s glow into a runner-up slot.
“Anyway, this leads back to where we started. If Seth does come into the studio, I could always tell him, or anyone else who happens to ask, that I’m dating someone. What do you think?”
Anthony blinked the dryness from his eyes. What did he think? This was possibly the most encouraging thing Kira could have said. The idea that she wanted to make something official—before Seth tried to sledgehammer his way into the picture—said she really was the commitment type.
He lifted his arms toward her, motioned with his hands for her to come closer.
Kira hung her feet over the ledge of the window seat before sliding off and onto the floor. Her bun had gotten messier throughout the day, and he’d be danged if it didn’t add to her beauty. A pair of large overalls hung loosely around her small frame and over a snug tee shirt. She wore fluffy socks again. Today’s were gray, which was good, since he’d seen her mop up a few fresh drops of paint from the hardwood floors with them, mainly against the baseboards where the cloth pulled away from the wall.
Mischief danced in those big brown eyes as she stepped over the bunched-up canvas, that pouty lip caught between her teeth. If his heart had settings like a blender, Kira could hit those buttons with a look alone. The particular one she gave him now triggered a setting he hadn’t encountered often: whipped.
“Well,” he said, lifting a hand to her face as she neared. Her cheek, smooth and cool against his palm, flushed pink. “I’m not interested in dating anyone else, Kira. And if you aren’t either, then I guess we can make it official.” He grinned, let his posture droop like a lazy teen’s, and channeled his old high school bravado voice, which sounded a whole lot like Sylvester Stallone’s in Rocky. “I don’t have a ring or nothin’ like that, but uh … will you be my girl? I can bring my letterman’s jacket to school if you want to wear it.”
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