Leigh was out of the truck before I’d fully parked, camera already in hand.
I followed more slowly, watching as she immediately shifted into photographer mode. She moved around the space with purpose, checking angles, testing light, occasionally raising her camera to capture a shot.
She was completely focused. Professional. In her element.
And I couldn’t look away.
“This is gorgeous,” she said, turning to show me the camera display. “The light through the trees here…”
She stepped closer so I could see the screen, and suddenly we were standing close enough that I could count her freckles. Could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. Could smell that perfume that had been driving me crazy.
We both froze.
Her breath caught. Mine did too.
For a moment, the whole world narrowed to just this. Her, me, the space between us that was both too much and not enough.
Then she stepped back quickly, clearing her throat. “I think this location will work really well.”
“Yeah.” My voice came out rough. “Good.”
She spent about another half an hour taking test shots and I watched in fascination realizing how she saw the world so differently to everyone else. How she somehow had the ability to see the beauty in things that most people would dismiss.
I found myself excited to show her the next location. It was a meadow I’d found years ago, wildflowers in bloom, the kind of place that looked like something from a painting. Then an overlook that gave a sweeping view of the valley. As soon as we pulled in Leigh gasped at the sight and immediately started shooting.
I leaned against the truck tailgate, watching her work. The wind caught her hair, pulling strands loose from her ponytail.She was smiling, that genuine smile that transformed her whole face.
Something in my chest tightened.
She turned, caught me watching. “What?”
“Nothing. Just... you really love this.”
Her smile softened. “I do. Photography is the one thing that’s always made sense to me.”
“I get that.” I pushed off the tailgate. “That’s how I feel about engines.”
“Yeah?” She lowered her camera, giving me her full attention.
“Something broken comes in, I can fix it. There’s a logic to it. A solution.”
“Not everything can be fixed.”
“No.” I held her gaze. “But engines can.”
The subtext hung between us, heavy and unspoken. Not everything can be fixed. Not this situation. Not whatever was building between us despite our best efforts.
“It’s past noon,” I said finally, breaking the moment. “You hungry?”
She checked her phone, surprised. “I didn’t realize it had been that long.”
“There’s a deli in town. We could grab something.”
She looked around at the overlook, the perfect light, the view spread out before us. “Or... we could pick something up and come back here? The light’s perfect right now.”
I should say no. Should suggest we eat in town, surrounded by people and witnesses and things that would keep this professional. If that’s even what this was.
“Sure,” I said instead.
