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Catie shook her head. “Not necessarily.” She took the paper from Asher and handed it to the temp. She laid a gentle hand on the woman’s arm. “Sheila, what does the sheet actually say?”
Sheila blinked hard and held Catie’s gaze a moment before dropping her eyes to the form. She squinched her brows as she traced the words. In a shaky voice, she said, “Um, a sunset background. Maybe a little stormy.” That sounded about right. And to her credit, that’s what Catie had done. Sheila’s cheeks puffed out and she continued, “And… It does look like Viking, but oh, God, I’m so sorry. I wrote Viking, then scratched aBover theV. It should say biking, and cowboy.” She turned a pleading gaze toward me. “I’m so sorry. My momma always says my handwriting was like reading Sanskrit. But Asher told me it was a rush and to get it over to Carrie as soon as possible. So I wrote it out and faxed it over.”
Moisture filled Sheila’s eyes and she rolled her lips inward.
“Aw, fuck,” I mumbled. I sure as hell didn’t get out of bed this morning and think,hmm, maybe I can make someone cry today.
Catie touched the temp’s arm again. “I use a kind of shorthand when I’m in design meetings. And you ought to see my penmanship. Hard to believe I haven’t messed anything up too badly because of it. At least you can read your own writing. Somedays, I struggle to do that.”
I straight-up stared at Catie. Her reputation was on the line and here she was trying to comfort the woman who’d fucked this up so badly that Carrie might never hire Catie again.
“The graphic is nice. Just not really what I had in mind for this release,” I said lamely.
“But I messed this up so much, we’ll be late. Asher… Mr. Wilder, I’m so sorry. I guess I’ll be replaced. When we get back to the office, I’ll clean out the few things I brought for my desk.”
“Hang on, Sheila.” Catie tossed me a look, then pivoted her gaze to Carrie. “I have an idea of how we can fix this. I can probably have a new layout to look at tomorrow. That is, if Callan can spare a couple hours for me this evening.”
Call me intrigued. This woman could have panicked about losing the job because of someone else’s screw-up. But she was trying to placate me, comfort Sheila, and still turn in a design.
“What do you have in mind?” I asked.
“Was that motorcycle at the trailhead yours? The sleek black Triumph Tiger?”
She knew her machines. “Yeah, it’s mine.”
She grinned. “I knew it. It suits you. Can you meet me at the trailhead tonight just about sundown? This rain should clear up by then, and the sunset should be incomparable. I want to get the lighting right. We’ll do a couple candid shots there, then I’ll work my magic on the images.” She wriggled her fingers in the direction of the monitor on the wall where the god-awful image was still on display.
“You can fix this?”
Catie nodded. “Yep. You ride that bike to meet me, wear your most comfortable jeans and whatever biker gear you want. I’ll bring my camera. Impromptu photo shoot. What do you say?”
“Seems like it might work. We’ve seen Catie’s photography work before,” Carrie commented.
Catie beamed a grin at Carrie, and I damn near lost my breath at the brilliance that suddenly invaded the office. I shifted uncomfortably, wishing I had still held my hat to cover the situation going on in my jeans.
“What do you have to lose?” Asher asked.
Sheila just clasped her folded hands to her mouth, looking like she was praying for redemption.
Body almost back under control, I dug my fingers into the back of my neck. “Okay. We’ll give it a try.”
If nothing else, it was a chance to get to know Catie a little better and share a sunset with her.
Maybe this day wasn’t so bad after all.
5
CATIE
My day got better, Dad. I remember you telling me about how great it felt when you gave a kid new shoes. Like an endorphin-induced euphoria. Yeah, it’s like that. Plus, I think I’ve met someone.
Love you, Dad. Miss you.
Nerves swooped in my stomach like a flock of birds trying to evade a predator. I cataloged the contents of my camera bag, trying to ignore the sensation as I waited for Callan Wilder to arrive at the trailhead. The rain had cleared out for now, but fluffy white and dark clouds skittered across the sky. Perfect for my intended shots.
I’d brought only my digital camera because there wouldn’t be time to develop film. Besides, the images would be easier to import into my design and manipulate them to perfection by highlighting his blond hair, putting a bit of glow into those sea-glass-colored eyes, and emphasizing his cheekbones just enough. His bone structure was magazine-cover worthy, so I wouldn’t have to do much to it.
He did like the background, so I could stick with that, but in my mind, I reviewed all the spots we could use as great background from the Beaman Park Trail. There was an observation tower I wanted to try out. I eyed the trail critically. It might be wide enough for him to push his Triumph up. His motorcycle parked at the bottom of the rugged tower, him leaning on the seat, the sun setting behind him…
