Chapter 55

Nakos's two-story rustic cabin had been built by Olivia's parents a few years before they'd died, and was intended to be living quarters for the active foreman. It was set on Cattenach Ranch, deep in the southern pasture, with a clear view of the Laramie Mountains on one side, sprawling prairie on the back end, and a copse of cottonwoods to the north.

Amy hadn't been inside since they were children. Yet here she was, standing in the second floor guestroom, just a sheet of drywall separating her from where Nakos slept. He'd...taken her home with him. Had arranged for all her things to be brought over. It was just like him to pull a move like this.

And it didn't feel right. He was no more responsible for her wellbeing than Kyle. The sheer loss of independence since her divorce had been jarring, but being utterly displaced was worse. Like dandelion fluff caught in a stiff wind. Rootless. Helpless. She hated not being able to stand on her own two feet.

She had no options, though. Olivia needed privacy with Nate, not Amy lurking around to disrupt their wedded bliss. Kyle's room in the staff quarters barely had space for him. Her parents sure wouldn't be of assistance. Though she was earning a salary helping Aunt Mae cook for Olivia's ranch hands at the main house, Amy was barely making a dent in the credit card bills Chris had wracked up. Last month, she'd consolidated them into one loan, which had helped, but there wasn't enough left over to pay rent elsewhere. And there were very few accommodations in Meadowlark. Their small town was mostly a ranching community. Plus, her credit rating was in the crapper.

Stuck between wanting to scream at the top of her lungs or cry herself into dehydration, she'd been standing in the center of the bedroom, unmoving, since they'd arrived. Still wearing her bridesmaid dress.

Two duffel bags containing the few articles of clothing she owned were on the center of the full-size bed atop a yellow and green quilt. A box of her cosmetics sat on a long dresser along the opposite wall. And her photography equipment had been carefully piled beside a trunk under the window facing south. Yellow curtains billowed in the breeze off the mountains.

She curled her toes against the hardwood floor and glanced from the prints on the white walls to her equipment. Two weeks after she'd gone to live with Olivia, a package had arrived for Amy. Inside had been a brand new camera, printer, and laptop. What had to be thousands of dollars in replacements for what Chris had destroyed. There had been no note and she had no clue who'd sent the gift. Until a few days later when Nakos had confessed.

Why? Not that the gesture wasn't exactly like his compassionate personality, but he'd never given her the impression he'd liked her pictures. Because he'd said very little when she'd shown him new images before, she'd quit altogether, not wanting to make him feel like he had to offer false praise.

Except...three of her originals were hung in the guestroom - a beam of sunlight streaking through a hole in an old piece of wood, a shot of a cowboy boot next to a horse hoof, and a large gloved hand holding reins. Downstairs, over the mantle, was another of her prints. Bones - Olivia's sheepdog - running a herd of steer.

Thing was, Nakos had no other art donning the walls. Not that she'd seen. They hadn't lingered downstairs due to the hour but, best she could tell, only her photos graced his home. She just...didn't know what to make of it.

Her gaze landed near the trunk again. She hadn't taken the stuff he'd gifted her out of their boxes. Accepting the present had felt wrong, just like being here now sent a sliver of guilt through her bloodstream.

This was not how she'd envisioned her life turning out.

Footsteps shuffled in the hallway, but she kept her profile to the open door, unable to glance away from the entities that encompassed what used to be her only joy. The weight of a camera in her hands. Playing with the focus to get a shot just right. Waiting for the perfect light or angle to capture a fragment of time forever.

Everything was prettier through a lens. No rejection or hurtful words or disappointment. Most people thought photography was a brutally honest portrayal of something - whether it be a person or an object or event. Not to her. Taking pictures was the only time she was free from harsh reality.

"Hey, you're still awake." Nakos leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, but she remained unmoving, catching his form in the corner of her eye.

"Yep."

"And still dressed."

"Yep."

"And in the exact same spot I left you two hours ago."

"Yep." That was her in a nutshell. Stagnant. Going nowhere. She would've laughed at the irony if her sinuses weren't prickling with the threat of tears.

Silence.

His hesitation was either a Nakos-ism to get her to talk first or he was gathering his wits on how to proceed. Always cautious, her friend. He typically didn't say much, and when he did, it was usually not without thought first. If only other people were as considerate as him.

A rustle of clothing, and he stepped into the room. Barefoot, wearing a loose pair of sweats and a white tee, he strode to the window. He'd taken his ponytail out and his raven strands brushed his wide shoulders. He was so darn beautifully built. Lean grace and subtle muscular tone. Olive skin. He looked...yummy.

Something about the intimacy of the situation had her breath short. It was...casual in a way they hadn't been in a long time. The same bedroom. Only a dim lamp and moonlight to chase away the shadows. His every exhalation and shift was a shout to his presence. Although he was across the room, he took up all the available space. Even his unspoken thoughts were an entity.

He bent and lifted the camera box from the trunk's surface, staring intently at the packaging in his huge hands. "Why haven't you opened these? It's been months."

She was undeserving, that's why. "Why did you do it? Buy them for me?"

"I asked you first."

"Answer my question and I'll answer yours."

Contemplative, he ran his thumb across the box. "I didn't buy them. Nate did." When she frowned, he shrugged. "He went with Olivia to your old house, helped her pack your things after Chris was put away. Nate had seen some of your work at Olivia's place and was impressed. He told me he had a lot of savings built up and no idea what to do with it."

"Why lie, then? Why say they were from you?" That was very unlike him. He didn't have a distrustful bone in his body, was always honest.

"He was a virtual stranger to you at the time. He figured you'd be more likely to accept them if they were from me." Lips pursed, he returned the camera to where it had been. "I guess he was mistaken since you haven't opened the stuff." With a solemn expression, he studied her. "I thought about doing the same thing, but he beat me to it."

"Why?" Dang, she sounded like a parrot, but her heart was thumping and she didn't know what to glean from his admission.

An air of frustration wrinkled his brows. "Because it makes you happy." His tone was matter of fact and indicative of a no-brainer response.

Yet... "So it had nothing to do with whether you thought I had talent." And they say women were hard to understand. Why spend - or think about spending - thousands of dollars on a gift like that if...

"It doesn't matter to me your level of talent. For all I care, you could take pictures of steaming piles of manure that are half out of focus." His hands fell to his hips as he cocked a foot to the side, clearly getting impatient. "All that concerns me is whether you enjoy what you're doing. And that," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder to the trunk, "brings you joy."

"How would you know?" Her body didn't understand how to react to him any more than her mind. On one hand, that was the sweetest darn thing she'd heard in a long time. But on the other, his opinion mattered to her. And he hadn't exactly claimed to love her photos.

Expelling a hearty sigh, he glanced at the ceiling as if praying for guidance from On High. "Because I know you, Ames." Those sinful midnight eyes leveled on her. His biceps bulged and knotted against the sleeves of his tee.

And scratch that. Her mind knew just what to do. It derailed straight to the gutter. Thoughts of being wrapped in those arms, her breasts crushed against his wall of a chest, her fingers trailing over the dips and grooves of his abs...

"Let's forget for a second that you have the ability to stop time and bring a tear to the eye with every click of the lens." He took a step forward, but stopped. "That each picture tells a unique story and I have a hard time looking away. What I give a shit about is what it does to you."

She yelped a flabbergasted laugh. If she hadn't, she might've wound up fetal and sobbing. He...he...loved her work. In all her years playing with the hobby, no one had ever used such pretty words to describe the result. Unbidden, her eyes began to water.

He pressed a hand to his chest. "You are a walking, talking natural disaster."

Another sharp laugh. "You mean like, if someone pisses me off, naturally there will be a disaster? You say the sweetest things."