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“Hmm, I don’t have any birdseed.”
“I do,” he rumbled.
He didn’t say anything after that, but I guessed rightly that we were headed for the birds.
He turned out to be an excellent photographer's assistant, and I had a blast setting up photos with his input. My favorite shot was a close-up of his massive hand, seeds scattered in his palm, a tiny nuthatch perched like a thimble on his thumb. As soon as I snapped it, I swung the camera up and caught his face, amazed to see a softness, a wonder, that seemed out of place on his craggy, severe face.
He caught my eye as I lowered my camera and he grinned, flashing white teeth surrounded by that wild beard. I sucked in an involuntary breath, lifted the camera back up to his face but he had already turned his face to the side and dipped his chin. Obviously not a poser. I took the shot anyway and it was almost as good as the smile.
Almost.
Barrett
He could see it, he could feel it, he could almost smell the pheromones coming off her, and he saw just as clearly that she had decided to hold back. This was fine with him, he agreed that this was the right course of action, for now.
His first instinct about her, and what she would be to him, had been correct, he was sure of it. He was completely in tune with her, hyper-aware of her in a way that he’d never experienced with anyone else, ever. She, herself, reminded him of a bird, cheerful, busy, and always monitoring her environment. She’d been wounded at some point, and it had made her wary. That was okay, she was not the first wounded bird he’d been drawn to, just the first human one.
She laughed, a lot, and he found himself smiling more than usual in response. They decided to hit Turtle Jack’s for dinner, sliding into an available booth at the back and quickly placed their order.
She was nervous again. Her eyes, dark blue with white-blue striations, like lightning in a midnight sky, were skittering all over the restaurant. Being forced to sit face to face with no distractions brought its own pressures.
“How did your pictures turn out?”
She brightened. “Great! Do you want to see?”
“Absolutely.”
She pulled her camera from its carry bag and flipped the screen around, leaning across the table so they could both see. She slowly scrolled through. Her hair brushed his forearm, and he had the urge to wrap her curls around his fist, but he’d settle for even one curl around his finger.
He turned his attention to her camera. He was featured in many of the pictures, and he had taken the camera several times as well so she could have some pictures of herself feeding the birds. There was even one of them together that a vivacious group of middle-aged ladies had insisted on taking. He had his arm around her waist, his fingers resting lightly at the front of her hip.
Some of the scenes she had captured were stunning.
She reached the last of the pictures she’d taken on their hike and the next picture that came up was also the first one stored on the USB card. A young girl, with wild, light brown, curly hair just like hers, but with big brown eyes instead of lightning blue ones, regarded the camera seriously.
He looked up at her in surprise. “You have a child?”
A flare of pain flashed across her face so quickly he would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking into her eyes at that very moment.
“No, this is my niece, Olivia. I love her like she’s my own, though.”
“She looks like you. She’s beautiful. Is she your sister’s or your brother’s child?”
“Sister. I have one sibling. Her name is Mara. She’s thirteen years older than me and she loves me like I’m her own child. I guess we’ve established a pattern.” She laughed but it sounded forced. “She’s actually best friend’s with Bex. You’ll probably meet her at some point.”
“And where do you fit in?”
“We’re all three of us awfully close, but they have a whole history together since the time they were in university together. Bex and I have only become close in the last few years.”
“Tell me about your work.”
She told him about her business, about Junie and Minty, and about working part-time at the animal shelter.
“I enjoy having my own business, I love art, although it’s more of a hobby, and I adore animals. If I had been better at science and math, I would have gone into animal care. I think how it turned out in the end is better for me, because I get to play with the animals, nurse them when they’re sick, and help with some of the rehab. I wouldn’t get to do that if I were a vet, and I probably wouldn’t have my art.” She shrugged. “Now, I have both.”
He told her about rescuing wounded birds and bunnies as well as other, less desirable, housemates, even the occasional feral cat, when he was a kid, knowing to his bones since he was about ten years old that he was meant to be an animal doctor.
They ate nachos, garlic bread and downed chicken wings like a couple of buddies out for a beer, and that’s exactly how she treated him. However, when she thought he wasn’t looking, she stared at him like he was dessert.
