Something Precious Read online

  "What's he play?" Jake asked, opening the box I brought over. I watched as he took a cookie out of it, folding it in half like a taco as if he was about to eat it.

  Jana slapped his hand playfully. "Your uncle's just about to bring in whole trays of food—barbeque chicken and those bacon poppers everybody loves."

  "Oh, I've got room for all that, don't worry." Jake tilted his head back and put a whole cookie into his mouth. He made that same approving sound his uncle did. "Oh my gosh, I love those things," he said.

  It gave me a bad case of butterflies to think of him eating food I had prepared. What in the world was wrong with me?

  "You better watch out," Jana said. "Don't you have a big modeling session coming up?"

  "It's in three days," Jake said, chewing. "I'm not worried about it, though. I've been killing myself at the gym. I just left there. I burned about two thousand calories. Today was core day." He lifted his shirt, exposing a section of his torso. I watched in awe as he breathed out, flexing the muscles of his stomach. There was only a small section showing, but it was enough for all of us to see the ridges of muscles that lined the front of his body.

  His aunt let out a disbelieving whistle, staring at him. "Goodness, Jacob, I guess you do deserve a cookie."

  He laughed and dropped the hem of his shirt. "I'm trying to get jacked for my big moment in the spotlight."

  I swallowed hard, trying to focus on anything but the conversation at hand. I was speechless, breathless, shaken. It simply wasn't fair that Jake Reynolds had the ability to affect me this way. I distracted myself by beginning to flip through Abigail's wedding album. "These are so good," I said, after looking at only one page.

  "K.K. brought her camera to the wedding, too," Jake said.

  I glanced at him.

  "Did you get any good ones?" he asked.

  "I always get good ones," I said confidently, causing him to smile.

  "She got one of me and your uncle dancing," Jana said. "She already put it in a frame and gave it to me."

  "I think I saw that one on your mantle the last time I was here," Jake said.

  Jana nodded. "I took a picture of it with my phone and put it on my Facebook. I got a lot of likes on that one."

  "You took a picture of the photograph?" Jake asked.

  Jana nodded. "Frame and all. Because I needed it on my phone so I could add it to my Facebook."

  "You could have just had K.K. text you the actual photo instead of taking a picture of it with your phone," Jake said.

  "She told me that, but it came out just as good with me taking a picture. That way, I got to show the frame and everything."

  Jake smiled and shook his head at his aunt, and I couldn't help but grin at them.

  "I thought y'all were coming back outside—" Bill came in the back door talking before he could even see us. "Oh, hey, Jake, when'd you get here?" he added, noticing his nephew once he made it inside.

  "Just a second ago."

  "Are you by yourself?"

  "Yes sir. Do you need some help out there?"

  "No, I was just coming in to grab the key to my truck. I just took the meat off the grill. It's resting."

  "What do you need out of your truck?" Jana asked.

  "My pistol," Bill said. "Preston was gonna show me something on it. He's a firearms expert."

  Jake and Abigail both looked at me like this news surprised them. I just shrugged, feeling as taken-off-guard as they were. I knew Preston was ex-military, but none of the conversations we had were about firearms.

  "You're not gonna shoot it or anything, are you?" Jana asked.

  "No, honey, we're not gonna shoot it," Bill said patiently.

  "I'll come out with you," Jake said, following his uncle as he went back outside.

  "The meat's done," Bill called from over his shoulder. "We'll be ready to eat in a minute or two—five tops."

  "All right," Jana said. "The salad's in the fridge, ready to go, and I'll put the buns in the oven." Jana went to work taking the buns out of their packaging and getting them lined up on a cookie sheet to go into the oven. Abigail and I asked if she needed help, but she assured us she didn't, so we continued going through the wedding album.

  "You okay?" Abigail whispered, looking at me with a concerned expression.

  "Yeah, why?" I whispered back, focusing half on her and half on the photos. She shrugged when I glanced at her.

  "You know. Jake."

  I glanced at Jana just to make sure she hadn't heard. "What about him?" I asked.

  Abigail squinted at me as if to say I wasn't fooling her. "I know you didn't expect him to be here," she said with a sweet, supportive smile.

  I hated that she could see right through me.

  I hated that she knew how I felt.

  And, most of all, I hated that I felt that way in the first place.

  "Oh, no. It's totally fine. I'm so over that."

  Another smile.

  "Good," she said. "Because I like to see men bringing you flowers."

  "I know. It was sweet, huh?"

  She nodded, and we went back to looking at the album. I knew I had done a good job of making it seem like I was fine with everything, and I breathed a little easier because of it.

  "Preston really is a firearms expert," Bill said a few minutes later when the guys came into the house. "He taught me things I didn't know about my own pistol."

  Margo began barking at all the noise the guys were making, so it was pretty chaotic for a minute. Ash came to stand next to Abigail, looking over her shoulder. Jake and Bill went into the kitchen with the food and instantly started talking to Jana. As all this was going on, Preston came to stand beside me—similar to the way Ash was doing with Abigail.

  I looked up at him and smiled.

  I liked that Bill was impressed by his knowledge, I liked that he brought me roses, and I really liked that I wasn't the unfortunate single girl pining over taken-Jake.

  It was because of all these things that I reached out and touched the side of his leg, pulling on it just slightly and encouraging him to stand closer to me. It was the first time I had done something so forward, but I couldn't help myself—everything just lined up where I felt like it was the right thing to do.

  "Also, he wants me to take him fishing," Bill announced from the kitchen once Margo got quiet.

  "I'm sure that was all his idea," Jana said, winking at Preston from behind Bill's back.

  Preston moved, pulling out the chair next to mine, and I had no other choice but to take my hand from his leg. "I'm excited about it," he said, talking to Bill and Jana as he sat beside me.

  We made eye contact, and our gazes held as he reached out for my hand. He put it on his leg as if replacing it in the spot where it was before he moved to sit down. My heart sped up a little. I wasn't sure why I was nervous—if it was the butterflies from touching him, or if I was thinking about what everyone else would think about it.

  "I can't believe you play the cello," Abigail said.

  "Not like your husband," Preston said. "I enjoy it, but it's not my passion."

  "What is your passion?" she asked.

  He shrugged and shook his head, considering. "I do a lot of things," he admitted. "I'm not sure I would call any of them a passion, though."

  "I'm the same way," Abigail said. "I love my job, but I can't say I feel the same way about it that Ash feels about playing the cello. Not even close, really."

  "I don't think I have a passion either," Jana added, overhearing our conversation from the kitchen.

  "Right now, I'm pretty passionate about getting this chicken onto a plate," Bill said.

  "I hear that," Ash agreed. He helped Abigail to her feet, and they headed to the kitchen to meet the others.

  Preston looked at me. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

  I nodded. "Are you?"

  "Yeah. But I hate to move."

  My hand was still resting on his leg. It was in a somewhat awkward position where it was partially cl
osed, but it was there, and he put his hand over mine, giving me a little squeeze before pulling me to my feet.

  Chapter 7

  We did the photo shoot on a Tuesday morning.

  The blazing Miami heat was always a factor with outdoor shoots, and I told Suzanne the earlier the better. We scheduled half of the models at 7am and the other half at 9. The stylist was running late, but they had to get hair and makeup done, so I didn't start taking pictures of the first group until after 8.

  Suzanne Fredrick was a control freak. She wasn't trying to be rude or anything, but she had a vision for the project, and she walked around, asking tons of questions giving her two-cents constantly. I had an assistant with me, and we had to laugh at how many times the stylist looked at us and rolled his eyes behind Suzanne's back.

  We did the shoot at a local marina. It was a place I recommended because it was close to a strip of beach and there was also a nice swimming pool. I knew we would have a few diverse swimsuit-suitable background options within walking distance. Aside from Suzanne's enthusiasm with making everything perfect, it was a pleasant enough experience.

  The models were mostly amateurs. This meant they were somewhat nervous and clumsy, but they were eager to please and happy to take instruction.

  It was a busy, hectic morning right from the get-go, which was why I didn't notice when Jake and Clara arrived. I was off at the beach, taking a few final photos of the first group when I saw them approaching with the other members of the second group.

  "Y'all can stay over by the pool," I yelled, waving them off. Suzanne was walking with them, and they continued coming my way despite what I had just said.

  I looked at Maddie, my assistant. "Please go tell them we'll meet them up at the marina in just a minute," I said. "I want to upload these photos before we start the second group."

  Maddie took off, jogging toward the approaching group. I could have gone without uploading the photos. I could have rolled with the punches and started the second group at the beach since they were already on their way, but Suzanne had been so in my face all morning that I decided to be stubborn and call the shots for a minute. Plus, Jake was with that group, and I wasn't quite prepared to see him.

  I had been photographing perfect-bodied, swimsuit-wearing people all morning, so I should have been immune to it, but it was different with Jake. My heart had felt like it wanted to rattle out of my chest just from glancing at him walking my way. I was relieved when Maddie caught up to them and they turned and headed back the other way.

  I finished up with the first group, taking my time with the last few frames even though I was sure I already had the shots I needed.

  The next twenty minutes passed in a blur.

  We went back to the marina and I uploaded photos. This was a good decision because looking at them gave Suzanne something to do. I assured her that I had a lot of editing work to do on them and told her she should just look at the general feel of the photograph and choose her favorites.

  Just as I had done with the first group, I started the shoot for the second group at the marina, then we moved to the pool before finally making our way to the beach.

  I was busy and occupied enough that I managed to ignore my gut-wrenching feelings for Jake. I was scared that I would have a hard time working with him—especially since Clara was there, but I tuned out who they were and just stared at them objectively through the lens. Jake was breathtakingly perfect, but it was in my best interest to build an emotional wall and keep things strictly professional.

  Something was amiss with Jake, anyway.

  He faked it, smiling for the camera and even goofing off with the other models, but something was wrong with him—I could just tell. I knew him well enough to know that he wasn't acting like his old self.

  I sent Maddie back to the marina with Suzanne and the models once we were done taking pictures at the beach. I needed a minute or two alone. I told them I got all the shots I was looking for and assured Suzanne we'd have plenty of good proofs for her to choose from. I pretended to turn things off and tear down my equipment, but really, there was nothing to do, and I only hung back to gather my wits and because I wanted Jake and Clara to be gone by the time I got there.

  My plan backfired.

  Everyone walked to the marina in a group, except for Jake and Clara. They lagged behind, staying with me. I stole glances at them as I pretended to wrap things up, and I could tell that they were having an intense conversation—a fight.

  This was exactly what had been wrong with Jake. It made perfect sense. Part of me loved seeing them disagree, but I hated drama, and it annoyed me that she was arguing with him in public.

  I had to remind myself that it was none of my business. Also, it was nothing that hadn't happened before. I had seen them argue a time or two in the past. Clara had a fiery personality.

  I stood there for several minutes, thinking they would finish what they were doing and move on, but that never happened—they were close enough to me that I could almost hear some of what they were saying—something about "I told you that wasn't the issue," and, "You're making it out to be more than it is."

  I was completely uncomfortable, and I didn't know how to get back to the marina without walking awkwardly close to them. After a minute more of fake-fumbling with my camera, I decided I had no other choice but to move. I certainly wouldn't be able stand there all day, waiting for them to finish their argument.

  I was hot. It had been a long morning, and I felt flustered seeing this girl argue with Jake. I didn't know what they were fighting about, but I knew it was all her fault, and I was instinctually mad at her for whatever she had done to make this morning strained for him.

  He should have been able to relax and fully enjoy his chance to model. He should have never even asked Clara to do it with him. How was I to know he had been the one to ask her? Maybe that had been Suzanne's idea.

  I reminded myself that none of this was my business. I took a deep breath and started walking toward the marina, leaving about 20 feet of space between myself and the fighting couple as I walked in a large, unnecessary half-circle around them.

  "Just take my truck," Jake said loud enough for me to hear. "Leave the keys in it when you get to my house."

  "How are you supposed to get home?"

  "I'll get a ride home with K.K.," he said. It was exactly what I wanted him to say, but I cringed inwardly when I heard him say my name. I kept walking, not even looking at them.

  "K.K."

  I heard Jake yell my name, and I turned to face them with a curious smile.

  "I'm gonna get a ride home with you if you don't mind."

  I shook my head, trying to look vaguely surprised. "Sure," I said. "But I'm gonna be a few minutes."

  Jake wore a serious expression, giving me a nod before focusing on Clara again.

  She was not happy.

  Her arms were crossed, and I could feel the anger radiating off of her even though I didn't look directly at her.

  "That's fine," he said to me. "I appreciate it. I'll meet you over by the pool."

  I nodded and kept walking.

  Suzanne had already let the models go by the time I got back to the marina. She and Maddie were waiting for me. She wanted to see the pictures from the second group so that she could write down her favorites. I started to tell her we could go through them later, but I knew it would be best to get that done while we were there, otherwise she'd be hounding me until we met up and her curiosity was satisfied.

  I thanked Maddie for the help and paid her in cash while the photos were uploading. We had a short exchange about her enjoying the job and wanting to help me again whenever I needed it. She left after that.

  Jake and Clara continued their heated conversation. I could see them from a distance, but couldn’t even begin to hear what they were saying. I turned my back to them, trying to put them out of my head.

  The photos were finished uploading and Suzanne had already begun looking at them when Jake fin
ally approached.

  "Your boyfriend's here," he said when I turned to glance at him.

  He was looking straight at me and wearing a completely serious expression, and I cocked my head at him assuming I had misheard. He motioned behind him to the parking lot without taking his eyes off me.

  "What'd you say?" I asked.

  "Your boyfriend's here," he repeated.

  The phrase was so foreign to me that I continued to look at him with a dumbfounded expression.

  "The guy, Preston, from the other night. He's here."

  I glanced into the parking lot, still looking and feeling confused. "You didn't even go to the parking lot."

  "Yeah, I walked that way when Clara was leaving."

  "You know it was Preston?"

  "Yes. Why?"

  "Preston should be at work," I said. I almost added that he wasn't my boyfriend, but I kept that part to myself.

  "Well, he's not. He's here. I saw him from where I was standing. White car, windows down. I could see right in."

  "What's he doing here?"

  Jake shrugged. "How am I supposed to know that?"

  "Did he talk to you?" I asked.

  Jake shook his head. "I didn't get close enough. I just walked Clara to the edge of the parking lot. I didn't get close enough to talk to him."

  "I would have given Clara a ride," I said. "If you didn’t want to let her take your truck."

  "I'm not gonna make you do that," he said. "She's ticked off right now."

  "Could you take this one and put the beach background behind it?" Suzanne asked, yelling a little since we were standing several feet from her.

  "Just write down the picture number and make a note, and I'll let you know once I have the chance to look at it," I said.

  I didn't mean to be abrupt with her, I tried to be nice and patient, I really did, but she had been asking questions all morning. Plus, I was completely preoccupied with the fact that Preston was apparently in the parking lot.

  "I'll be right back," I said to Jake. "Where was he?"

  "Right over there. He was parked close to my truck."

  I nodded and started to head that way.