Everyone had lessons to learn in life. That’s what Anthony took from his conversation with Kira. Perhaps what they’d learned so far would help them develop a healthy relationship. There was no telling if things between them would progress as he hoped, but even if they didn’t, Anthony wanted to help Kira succeed. Everyone deserves to feel good about what they offer the world, even if it was simply great food and a comfortable place to enjoy it. There was value in that. And there would be value in what Kira did too. Who knew? Perhaps maintaining the quality Angelo offered at Studio Click would be enough to—in Kira’s mind—restore the family name.

The funny thing was, Anthony found himself wanting to hurry things along. Get to the part where they were steadily dating and thinking of marriage and … and being in a place where he felt certain Kira wasn’t going to leave.

He shook his head. What was it that had him so anxious to give away his heart? He recalled something Angelo said in response to that very question, the words coming back to him as if spoken from the angel himself: “You’ve got a whole lot of love to give, son, that’s all. Just watch that you don’t put it in the wrong place.”

Anthony grabbed a couple of forks and worked at shredding the roast he’d prepared in the slow cooker. He nodded in satisfaction as the tender, aromatic meat separated easily beneath the tines. A glance at the clock said Kira would be there any minute, which was perfect; the au jus was ready, the fresh buns were sliced, and the sweet potato wedges were roasted to perfection.

He leaned a hip against the counter, his mind drifting back to their conversation that morning. Anthony hadn’t liked seeing Kira so upset, worried over the mishap with the pictures she’d taken. But like she said, it could’ve been worse. At least they’d just been test shots.

A sharp chime from the doorbell pierced through his thoughts. Anthony’s chest filled with a mixture of anticipation and terror. He rinsed his hands off, reached for a dish towel, and dried them on his way through the front room.

The doorknob was warm to the touch as he pulled it open, but the screen door handle felt like an ice rod. He pushed it open quickly, urging Kira into the warmth and closing the door behind her. “Whew,” he said, rubbing a hand over her back. “It’s colder than I thought out there.”

Kira stood mere inches from him, her strawberry scent assuring him—in case seeing her wasn’t enough—that she was actually there, in his home. She lifted a glass bowl of something white and fluffy and grinned. “Candy bar salad,” she said. “It’s got fresh fruit in it, which means it’s a side, not dessert.”

Dang, he liked this girl. “It is now, is it?” He inspected the plastic-wrap-covered creation as he took the bowl from her and walked it to the table. When he spun back around, Kira was already removing her coat.

Anthony stepped over in time to take it from her and hang it beside the wooden bench in the entryway.

“It’s nice in here,” she said, taking in the place as she slowly walked. “Oh …” She stopped in her tracks. “Forgot to take these off.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said.

But she scurried back toward the bench just the same. “I don’t mind.” She plopped onto the bench and pried off the tall cowgirl boots she wore before adjusting a fluffy pair of pale pink socks on her feet. They matched the oversized sweatshirt that hung slightly off one delicate shoulder.

She toured the place a bit more, inspecting pictures on the mantel. There were only two. “So I can tell that this is you and your dad out front of the diner,” she said. “But who’s in this other one? The black-and-white?”

Anthony walked up behind her. “That’s my old man and his dad out front the Italian sub shop. They ran the place together before my dad moved.”

Kira nodded, bringing her face closer to the pictures as her eyes narrowed. “The men in your family are handsome.” She flashed him a grin. “You’ve got good genes.”

Heat stirred low in his belly. “Thanks.”

Kira folded her arms over her chest and stepped toward the bookshelf. “Remind me … how did your dad die? Was it an accident?”

“Lung cancer, actually.”

Kira’s face was buried in the bookshelf. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She spun around to look at him. “That must have been awful.”

“Yeah.” Anthony cleared his throat, then shifted his eyes to the dinner table before the emotion kicked in. “Well, I hope you came hungry.”

She looked at him for a moment, seeming to acknowledge the topic diversion. “I am,” she said. “Starving, actually. And it smells amazing in here.” Kira stepped closer to him, bumped him in the arm with her shoulder. “I’ve never dated a guy who can cook.”

Anthony puffed up his chest and stretched an arm behind her back. “Well, get ready for the good life, baby, because I’m the best in town.”

She giggled. “Lucky me.”

After washing up at the sink, Kira helped take care of a few last-minute details like pan-frying the cut halves of ciabatta bread and dressing the salad. Soon they were seated in the dining area, food dished out, and conversation in full force: things like childhood memories, awkward first dates, and how they managed to get through those cruel adolescent years.

As they finished up, Kira plopping a second scoop of candy bar salad onto her plate, Anthony settled the details for the diner photo shoot. “Between two to four o’clock is our least busy time of day. Will that work for you?”

Kira nodded. “Sure. And I’m mainly shooting the members of your team? Waiters, busboys, owner …” She gave him a wink.

“That’s what I imagined. You think that will be good?”

She looked hesitant for a blink, but then nodded. “Yes. I think it will be great, in fact. Oh!” she blurted, wiping a spot of cream off her upper lip. “I’ve got some exciting news for you. I almost forgot.”

Anthony lifted a brow. “All right. Let’s hear it.” Already, she looked so pleased with herself he had to smile.

“I talked to the secretary at Cobble Creek High School and found out that their next dance is in less than a month. It’s a girl’s choice dance with a fifties theme.”

“Okay,” he encouraged.

“Monica—that’s the secretary’s name—told me they didn’t have a photographer yet, and if I wanted the job, it was all mine.”

“That’s great news.”

“Yeah, and they have several dances throughout the school year, so I’ll be able to come up with new backdrops and ideas for each one.”

He smiled, absorbing Kira’s warm, brilliant energy. Allowing it to soak into his soul like a soothing remedy. In the last week, Anthony had talked with Kira over coffee at the diner a handful of times, been to her studio twice, and taken her out on a date. And each time, she managed to soften his mood with her playful nature, offering fun and interest to each interaction. He guessed life didn’t often get boring when Kira Moretti was around.

She leaned her elbows onto the table as she continued, her eyes wide with excitement. “I was thinking about what kids like now and how they—especially for the girl’s choice dances—probably want something less formal. And with it being a fifties theme and all …” She dragged out the last word, cuing Anthony to pick up where she’d left off. He was already catching the drift.

“We could do it in the diner.”

“Yes,” she cheered, jumping to her feet. “If you’re okay with it.”

“That’s a great idea.”

Her smile grew wider. “I hoped you’d think so. It’s not that I couldn’t do them in the studio or the school, but it’d be perfect to shoot them in that far booth by the back entrance. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I do.” He loved the fact that Kira was thinking differently—talking about her plans as more of a we thing than a me thing.

“And hopefully they’ll want to get some fries and shakes while they’re there. Oh, and they said I could bring out handouts for senior pictures too, since graduation’s coming up in a few months.” Kira leaned to one side of the chair, shoved a hand into her back pocket, and pulled out a folded page. “This is a list of their dances for next year, along with their themes. The student body already sat down and arranged them.”

Kira slid the paper around her plate, past the center dish where the extra meat and buns rested, and alongside the side bowl with Kira’s candy bar salad. “If the one next month goes well, we could incorporate other businesses along Main Street according to the theme.” She was talking faster now, her excitement building as she rested a finger on the page. “They have a Halloween dance at the beginning of the upcoming school year. Think of how cool it would be to shoot that in Books and Nooks, that cute little bookstore on Main. Stretch webs across one of the aisles; maybe have a live tarantula climbing up a stack of books up front. Some dry ice wafting smoke just behind the couple.”

“Wow,” Anthony said. “You’ve really got a good mind for this, don’t you? Makes me want to go back to high school so I can get something other than those lame dance pictures where we sit there posed in front of some foam pillar and fake, dusty plants.”

“Me too,” Kira admitted. “But maybe we’ll luck out and have a student from the yearbook staff shoot one of us together. We’ll dress up as students.”

“Sounds good to me.” Anthony meant that. The fact that she was thinking so far ahead told him she really did plan to stick around. Make a life for herself there. Contribute to the town in a fun and unique way. He hoped she had a talent for taking photos, like her granddad. Creativity was always appreciated, but it couldn’t replace the quality Cobble Creek had come to expect from Studio Click.

Stop worrying about it, he scolded himself. Angelo always said that Kira got her eye for photography from him. And leaving his studio to her proved that it wasn’t just talk; the last thing he’d want to do is set Kira up to fail.

“Man,” Kira said. “I totally overate. It was too good to stop. You’ve got to show me how to cook a roast like that.”

He grinned. “Or I can just have you over for dinner again the next time you’re craving it.”

“That works too.” She held his gaze, allowing that magic of hers to seep into him once more.

Already, he was dreading the goodbye. Wondering if she’d come into the diner for coffee the next morning. Fifteen minutes of Kira each day could cure the lonely in his life like a drug. But he wanted more than fifteen minutes.

“Favorite things,” Kira blurted. “Let’s list some. You start.”

Anthony looked at her for a moment while his brain played catch-up. “Favorite things?”

She grinned. “Yes. Candy bar salad. There—I started us off. Your turn.”

“Mango cheesecake,” he blurted.

“Fluffy socks.”

“Cowboy boots.”

Kira tipped her head back. “Good one. They look good on you too. Um …” She looked around the room as if it might help, but then darted her gaze back to him, her expression turning serious. “Cold. Pillows.” She put emphasis on each word.

“Ah, I like that too,” he said.

“You do?” Her eyes went wide.

Anthony grinned, a small laugh creeping up his throat. “It’s the best.”

“Well, then, today’s your lucky day. Is your freezer clean?”

“What?”

“Your freezer,” Kira said, coming to a stand. “Is it clean?”

Anthony stood as well and joined her as she walked toward his industrial-style freezer/fridge. “As someone who owns a food establishment, the answer to that is always yes. Force of habit.”

“Perfect.” She hunched down and pulled it open. “Wow. It is clean. Spotless.” She spun in place. “Go get your pillow.”

He chuckled under his breath. “It’s going in the freezer, huh?”

Kira lifted her brows and grinned.

“All right, then.” Anthony tipped his head, motioning that she should come with him. “This way.”

Kira looped an arm through his as they strode down the hallway. “This house is bigger than it looks from the outside. It’s really nice.”

“Thanks.” He flicked on the light as they stepped into his rather plain bedroom. Anthony’s version of making the bed was more of a yank-the-top-blanket-over-the-pillows deal. Luckily he’d just done laundry; there’d be no stray tee shirt or sports shorts toppling off the corner hamper and onto the floor. He snatched the pillow and handed it over. “Here you go.”

Kira brought it against her chest, hugging it as they strode back into the kitchen. “Smells like you. Do you have parchment paper?”

“Of course.” He retrieved it for her, then watched as she placed a large sheet under the pillow and slid it onto a spacious rack.

“Best. Sleep. Ever,” she promised.

He nodded, quietly entertained by it all. But the truth was, he wasn’t ready for sleep just yet. He hoped she wasn’t either. “Want to see how the Redrocks are playing?” he asked, glancing at the mounted TV.

One corner of her lip quirked.

Anthony cleared his throat. “Or we could watch a chick flick. I have enough channels in this place; I’m sure you could have your pick.”

“No,” Kira said. “I like baseball.” She strode past him and into the front room, where the big screen hung. “The chick flick can wait for next time.”

Next time. Anthony repeated those wonderful words in his head as he joined her on the couch. Hopefully they’d have a whole lot of next times to look forward to.