Page 85 of Hooked
“Okay. Great. Thanks.” Melissa had always struck Tayla as a force of nature. She was a widowed mom who ran her family’s ranch and orange groves nearly single-handedly. She rarely came into town, probably because she was constantly busy with her daughter, her mother, and her cows.
She was beautiful in a Western, outdoorsy way. Honestly, if Tayla imagined Jeremy with a woman, it would be someone like Melissa. Her blond hair was streaked gold from the sun, she was tan, and her body was lean and muscled from days on horseback working with cattle.
Melissa crossed the street, her commanding stride making people move out of her way without her saying a word.
“What was all that about?” Tayla asked. “I’ve never seen her upset like that. She was upset, right?”
“Yeah, she definitely was.” Jeremy frowned and walked inside the shop.
Along the far wall, Cary’s photographs stretched across the display area, framed and lit like they were hung in a professional gallery. Most were vivid landscapes of the mountains or the foothills. A few animal prints. Some really excellent shots of cowboys kicking up dust in a corral. A few portraits.
“Those are from the Oxfords’ branding day last year.” Jeremy pointed to the ranching pictures. “And— Oh shit.”
Tayla followed his gaze and saw what might have caught Melissa’s eye. It was the central picture of the ranching series, larger than the rest and centered on the wall.
The shot was taken in profile, an intense moment captured in the middle of chaos. Dust kicked up around her, her hat at an angle, a boot propped up on a split-rail fence—the portrait was a full-body shot of Melissa, her gaze intent on something in the distance and her mouth hanging open a little. Her skin was flushed, sweat beaded on her forehead and chest. Sunlight made her tan skin glow. Her body was twisted, and the wind plastered her shirt to her body so her waist and breasts were clearly outlined.
It was dynamic and beautiful, a woman in command, intent on her work. Her jeans were dirty, her boots covered in dust. It was both utterly powerful and achingly feminine at the same time. Though the setting was public, the lens had captured an expression that felt intensely intimate.
Tayla looked at the caption:Cary Nakamura.Beauty. Digital photograph.
“Oh,” she breathed out. “He issoin love with her.”
“Yeah.”
Jeremy walked to the counter where Cary was paging through a catalogue and very definitely not watching Melissa walk across the street. His expression was tense.
“Did you ask her?” Jeremy asked.
“She knew I was taking pictures at their last branding. I asked if I could exhibit some tonight. She said no problem.”
“But did she know aboutthatpicture?”
He continued to flip pages. “I told her that she and some of the other cowboys were in the pictures. She said, and I quote, ‘No problem.’”
“But she’s mad about that picture.”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. She wouldn’t talk to me. First time in the past five years the damn woman doesn’t want to give me a piece of her mind.”
Tayla and Jeremy exchanged a look. It might have been the first time Melissa was confronted by the undeniable fact that Cary Nakamura clearly had feelings for her past professional admiration.
Tayla said, “It’s a beautiful picture, Cary.”
He looked up. “Thank you. I thought so too.”
Jeremy asked, “You okay here?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
They walked back to mingle with patrons in the shop, but Tayla kept sneaking glances at Cary.
He was not fine.
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Chapter Nineteen
The following Wednesday,Tayla walked into Bombshell Tattoos only to be hit with the intense smell of stale beer combined with disinfectant. Ginger’s employee, Russ, was mopping the floor, so the stale beer smell was gradually being drowned out by the disinfectant.
