an eyebrow as she shut the door. “You disappoint me. I’ll go as far as providing knives and forks, but that’s it.”
He laughed and stared at her denim-clad ass as she threw the lock in place and checked the sign was turned to Closed. Anticipation churned with the rumbling in his stomach. Her wanting to be alone—and undisturbed—with him could only be a good thing.
He inwardly berated himself as he carried their food over to her workstation. She pushed aside some papers and then walked over to the corner of the room, where she plucked a plaid blanket from the floor. “I used this for a shoot earlier, so it needs washing anyway. It can be our makeshift tablecloth.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She lifted the blanket and covered half of the enormous worktop before pulling two stools to either side. He slid onto one as she walked to the kitchen at the back of the studio. As sounds of a drawer opening, cutlery clattering and then the drawer slamming shut filtered through the open door, Trent tried to figure out the best way to play out the next minutes, or maybe hours, he’d spend with her.
His friends’ warnings about his distraction on the job poked at his conscience, along with the way everyone but Izzy believed they were meant for one another. He couldn’t keep pushing her. For his own self-preservation, he had to back off and be the friend she needed.
The soft scent of her perfume floated across the room as she emerged from the kitchen. Awareness lifted the hairs on his arms as Trent concentrated on unwrapping their meal. The aroma of fresh, battered fish and fried chips filled the studio and they both gave an appreciative, unified sigh.
They laughed and Trent’s gut wrenched at the fleeting sight of undisguised joy in her eyes. She plucked up a chip. “So, how was your day?” She popped the chip into her mouth. “Anything interesting happen?”
“Nope. It was one of the quiet days firefighters are grateful for.”
“Really?” Her bright blue eyes scrutinized him as though she suspected him of lying. “Do you really mean that? You’re grateful for the quiet days?”
His appetite wavered as the feeling he was being tested pressed down on him. “Of course. We don’t relish the idea of running into a burning building or rescuing people trapped inside a mangled car. It comes with the job...and I hope you understand now why I took the job.”
The skin at her neck moved as she swallowed. “Your sister.”
“Yes. Aimee.” Trent cut into his fish and lifted a chunk into his mouth, trying to act normal despite the sudden and oppressive silence.
She coughed. “It’s kind of sad the biggest thing we have in common is that we’ve both lost a sibling.” Her gaze shadowed. “Aren’t you angry? Don’t you want to lash out at anyone and everyone all the time?”
He picked up his soda can and drank, carefully watching her over the top as he considered his next words. He lowered the can. “The anger is normal and I promise it will pass.”
“I find that hard to believe. I’m always angry. Really, really angry.”
“I know you are.”
Her eyes glazed with unshed tears. “I don’t want to be this way, but I have no idea what to do if I’m not angry. Does that make me crazy?”
“No, it makes you human. Anger is a normal stage of grief, Iz. Don’t give yourself a hard time about it, but at the same time, don’t choose to stay in the anger either. You have to fight it or the grief will win.”
“And you fought back by signing up to be a firefighter?”
“In a way, yes. I wanted to do something to vent my frustration. What better way than fighting the thing that killed Aimee?”
She stared at him, her eyes sad, before she nodded and looked back to her food.
When it seemed she wasn’t going to say anything else, Trent shifted his gaze to the studio walls. The difference in the images on display was as devastating as Izzy’s grief. Cowden Beach, the sea dark, waves crashing, its sands empty of people. He continued to scan the walls, disappointment and helplessness twisting inside. Where were her previous images? The ones full of light, color, romance and fun.
It was clear to see that the images Izzy saw through the lens lately were heartbreakingly different than when Robbie had been alive.
“You need to change your focus.” He ate another bit of fish and purposely continued to stare around the room. “You’ve decided to show Templeton in a completely different light than you ever have before.” He looked at her bowed head as she pushed her food around on the paper. She’d barely eaten any chips, her battered fish untouched. “Is this how you feel?”
She lifted her head, her cold gaze showing she was once again trying to shut him out. “I look through my lens and photograph what I see. I can’t help what’s there.”
“That’s not true and you know it.” He put down his fork. “Your work has never been about what’s in front of you. You can make anything look beautiful. No, mesmerizing, heart-wrenching, yet hopeful. Do you know why? Because that’s who you are. Inside.”
Color tinged her cheeks. “Who I was. Not who am I anymore.”
“It’s a choice, Iz. You can be happy again if that’s what you want to be. Believe me, you might have to force it sometimes, but happiness is out there. You just have to be willing to open up to it.”
“And I guess you’re going to say my happiness could be you? It’s you who will make me happy?”
He swallowed. Apparently, she thought he was that arrogant. “No, not necessarily.”
“I want to be happy, but it’s going to take time.” Her voice softened. “I know you understand...now I know about Aimee.”
“But?”
“But what?” She focused on her food and put another chip into her mouth.
“There’s a but in there somewhere. You aren’t just avoiding me. You’re avoiding life or having fun, and that has nothing to do with me being a firefighter. You need to force yourself to get out there. Eventually, it won’t feel as hard as it does right now.”
“I’m trying.” She gave a wry smile. “I even ventured out of the Cove last week and met with the celebrity Kate wants to front the calendar. He arrives tomorrow.” She ate another chip, took a drink of her soda. “I just hope he doesn’t arrive with an entourage, expecting me to wait on him and them hand and foot.”
The change in subject was obvious, but he wouldn’t push her. “Who is he?”
“Richard Crawley.”
Trent stopped, a chip midway to his mouth. “The game show host? Wow, Kate’s outdone herself once again. I always got the impression the guy was too far up his own ass to give a crap about anyone else. Kid or no kid.”
She smiled softly. “Well, whether or not that’s true, only time will tell. All I know is he seems okay as far as celebrities go. Whether he’ll go for Kate’s idea of stripping off for the calendar remains to be seen.”
“If
