“Thanks again for letting me take some pictures of you,” Kira said as she walked a small family toward the front of the studio. Kate and Cam, both schoolteachers at the elementary, had been heading into the diner right as Kira left. With two young children in tow, they’d looked like the perfect candidates to freshen up her group sitting techniques.

“Thank you,” Kate said, shooting her husband a look. “I’ve been trying to get a family picture taken for years. We’ll have to come back for a full sitting soon. I’m just waiting for Cam to shave his beard,” the woman mumbled.

After seeing them out, Kira strode over the hardwood floors along the window front, peering into the windows of the diner across the street. A rash of goose bumps spread over her arms as she recalled the way Anthony had winked at her. Talk about gorgeous. She had often wondered about the cute kid from the diner. The one she used to sneak off with.

He sure had filled out. The muscled contours of his chest had been obvious, even through the kitchen whites he wore. As far as she could tell, he was still single—flirtatious, no ring. Slow down, Kira. Sheesh, she’d spent all of twenty minutes with the guy and already she wanted to date him.

This was the kind of thing that had been her downfall in life. Being distracted by the shiny new idea in her head. She could kick herself for letting Monty break her the way he had. Stupid Monty. She should’ve known better than to trust that snake. He’d taken the one thing she was good at and ruined it so thoroughly she’d almost abandoned the craft altogether. In reality, she had abandoned it, until now. Which was why she was so rusty.

She wondered if Anthony had taken over the diner or if he and his father ran the place together. A band of pain tightened around her heart at the thought; Gramps had wanted that very thing. He’d put her up in the duplex, even. Offered to mentor her. Teach her everything he knew so she could take over one day. Kira could’ve spent the last three years by his side. Years that ended up being the very last of his life, and now he was gone.

She’d missed out on that knowledge, but more importantly, she’d missed out on time with him. So why had Gramps given her a second chance? People usually didn’t do things like that. Take a gift they’d given someone and—after the recipient tossed it aside—pick it up, dust it off, and place it right back into hands.

Of course, she was older now. And she hoped—as the saying went—wiser, too. She checked the time on the antique grandfather clock with wheels on it, a prop Gramps incorporated in his old-time, sepia-toned photographs. In just two hours, Anthony would walk through the studio door all confident with his man bun, muscles, and tatts. While Harper had been a wonderful listener, and quite natural in front of the lens, the family following had been more challenging. Two kids who—bless them—smiled like someone was asking to count all their teeth. Jaws locked, faces stiff. She’d had to break out the jokes to pull out those real smiles. But at least it had worked. Still, it would be a nice change, wouldn’t it? Shooting a man with model good looks. One whose smile still had her heart chasing its own beat.

Kira still hadn’t picked up groceries for the day, but that would have to wait. For now, she was dying to explore some of the other props and supplies Gramps had stashed away. She pried off her shoes, snatched a pair of white, fluffy socks from her bag, and tugged them over her feet. Ah. Boy, did that feel good. With Beethoven blasting from her portable speaker, she padded over to the storage closet and creaked open the door. It took her moment to realize the light had a pull chain, which wasn’t easy to reach considering the massive mound of who knew what in the center of the space.

With a grip on the doorframe and a steep lean over the pile at her feet, Kira snatched the pull chain between her fingers and gave it a sharp, quick tug. The bulb let out a hollow-sounding pop as it flicked on. Kira tilted her head, looking over the large, charcoal-colored canvas covering the heap. She hunched down, secured a handful of fabric in each fist, and yanked it into the hallway at her back.

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.