Page 32 of Building Courage

Brynn drew a deep breath. “I have my own scuba gear now. But you’ll need to add the backup team. I’ll be diving in unfamiliar waters, and I’ll need someone to keep track of my bottom time while I’m busy photographing.” She’d lost track of time on the dive, and had Tucker not kept track, she would have been in trouble. “I’ll probably have to make at least four or five dives. Fish don’t just stick around to have their photos taken. So, besides having my tanks filled and any extra equipment I might need…” She blew out a breath. “I’ll have to speak to Tucker about all that.”

“It will all be in the contract.”

Was there an edge of panic in Natalie’s insistence? Or was it just determination?

Brynn glanced at her watch and hastily got to her feet. “Give me a call when you have it all written up, and I’ll come back by and sign it. I have another shoot today, and it’s going to be hot.”

Natalie smiled and rose to her feet. “I’ll call you as soon as the contract is ready.”

*

Two more photos, and she’d be done. Brynn studied the images on the computer screen critically. The shot of the marlin being strung up on the dock would be best for the deep-sea fishing charters. The sailboat image was beautiful against that orange-purple sky as it came into the dock. The marina owner would be thrilled with the shot since he was the one bringing the boat in. It would be perfect to promote him as well.

She studied the three or four shots she’d gotten of a blue cabin cruiser. At one point, she’d thought she’d seen the sun glint off of binoculars. The two men on board had obviously been watching her. Which was a little creepy, but they’d kept their distance. She wouldn’t use the shot she’d taken of the boat to promote the marina. But she might find a use for it for something else. She closed out the cabin cruiser photos and concentrated on the sailboat and marlin.

Tucker had mentioned going deep-sea fishing. She’d have to show him some of the shots. She drew in a deep breath. She had to quit thinking about him so often. It was becoming a habit.

She positioned the images of the sail boat and the marlin onto the trifold pamphlet she was designing and saved it for printing. Dave wanted a classy brochure to go in the racks in hotel lobbies in the area. The hotel check-in staff often passed them out when guests asked about local sailing or fishing services. He also wanted large prints of several photos to hang in his office. She’d print those tomorrow and take them directly to him. In the meantime, she saved the brochure to a flash drive to take to the printing company he’d requested and placed it in her purse.

Her cell phone rang, and she glanced at the number. When her heart leaped from a steady beat to a gallop, she told herself to chill. Being so attracted to someone she’d spent two afternoons with was ridiculous. She cleared her throat before answering, but her voice still sounded a little breathy when she answered the phone.

“Hey, how are you?”

His baritone southern drawl just did it for her. Who was she kidding? Everything about him did it for her, but she just couldn’t shake her distrust completely. He was too perfect. Too…everything.

“I’m good. Just finished a job, and I’m taking a break.”

“Good. I’d like to invite you to dinner if you’re available.”

She weighed the effort it would take to get cleaned up against her empty refrigerator and said, “I’d like that.”

“Do you like Thai food?”

“Yes.”

“It happens to be a specialty of mine if you don’t mind eating in.”

“No, I don’t mind.”

“I’ll have it ready by the time you get here. You’re not allergic to peanuts, are you?”

“No.”

“Good. I’ll put the chicken on the grill. It’s been marinating all day.”

Wow. She’d never marinated anything in her life. “I’ve been on a shoot at one of the marinas all day. I’ll need a few minutes to clean up, but I’ll be there ASAP.”

“No worries. This will take some time.”

She rushed to the bathroom to take inventory of how much damage her day on the docks had done. She’d slathered herself with sunscreen and worn a hat for the three hours she’d been out, so she hadn’t burned, but she needed a quick shower and a fresh change of clothes.

She gave herself fifteen minutes in the shower, another ten to blow dry her hair, and another ten to apply moisturizer to her face, slap on a little blush, mascara, and lip gloss, and change into green leggings with a muted design and a long, pale peach summer-weight sweater. She closed out everything on her laptop, gathered her purse and keys, and left the apartment.

The sound of raised voices reached her as she neared Martin’s door, and she slowed. Martin’s voice was soft, but Tate’s was deeper and more distinctive. The sound of a thump and breaking glass had her pausing. More than once, she’d seen bruises on Martin. An arm, his chin, and once his ribs had been so bruised, he’d crept around like an old man for two weeks.

It didn’t matter that he was male. He was still being abused. But being male made it more difficult, or at least as difficult as it was for a woman, to admit to the abuse.

If she knocked now, Tate would know she’d stopped because she’d heard the disturbance. She rushed back to her apartment and got the empty casserole dish Martin had transported the pasta inside more than a week before.

---