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She blinked her eyes refocusing on the conversation. “I’m sorry. I was thinking.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. So… what’s your schedule? If we’re going to do this photo shoot, I’m available next weekend,” she answered.
Cole pulled out his own phone. “We can take photos in my studio, and I suggest the park too.”
Her eyes widened. “The park?”
“So your viewers can see you in a more relaxed environment. I think it will make you more relatable too.”
“Okay, I can see that.?
??
“How’s next Sunday? I saw you’re not open on Sundays. After church? Around 2 o’clock?”
Leah marked the date in her phone. “That will work.” She leaned forward. “Is this going to require a glamor team and—”
“If you’d rather it be us, I can do that.”
“What about makeup and hair?”
Cole’s eyes twinkled. “Personally, I think you in your own element is what will sell the photos. How you do your own hair and makeup will look that much more authentic on camera. You’ll be showing you’re a professional in fashion and beauty. Trust me?”
The corners of Leah’s mouth quirked up. “I do. Okay. I’m doing a photo shoot.”
Cole rose from his seat. “I’ll see you next Sunday.”
Leah stood up and, before she could stop herself, walked around her desk and embraced Cole. Even in her heels, she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach over his shoulder. His long arms encircled her waist for a moment, but then he broke away. Leah caught a whiff of his woodsy cologne but stepped back.
“Thank you. I appreciate it,” she said.
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you next Sunday if I don’t see you before then.” With that, he turned to leave but faced her again. “Enjoy the rest of the muffin.”
Leah laughed as he left her office. She walked back to her office chair. She sunk into her seat, her eyes widening as she pondered what she’d agree to. Could she do it?
She pressed her hand to her lips while she returned her attention to her laptop. As she scrolled through her current pictures, she drew in her bottom lip between her teeth. A chill went through her. Focus Leah. She opened a new browser and typed an email to her web designer.
****
“You’re a sweetheart,” her mother said. She reached for the grocery bag containing the buttermilk.
Leah rubbed her palms together. She sat at her mother’s kitchen island. “What’s all this, anyway?”
“Your father likes buttermilk in his waffles.”
“I thought he was slowing down with the waffles, hash browns, and sausage—”
“Except for Sundays. He’s usually good with his diet. Besides, I haven’t made buttermilk waffles in a while for him. It’ll be a treat.”
Leah rested her elbows on the countertop. She rubbed her forearms. She saw the goosebumps surface.
"Are you okay, Leah?
“Uh, huh.” She kneaded her shoulder.
“You seem tense.”
