Chapter 18

eighteen

ANDREW

On Sunday afternoon, I placed another photo in Jonathon and Shane’s wedding album. I’d spent most of the day going through each shot, choosing the images that worked the best, then enhancing, cropping, and printing the photos.

Usually, it’d take a couple of days to make the album, but I hadn’t been able to sleep after I’d arrived home after seeing Paul.

I picked up another photo and frowned. Dylan must have snapped the image when I was dancing with Jacob. With his arms holding me close, and a smile softening his face, Jacob looked…content. For someone who’d spent most of his life in high-pressure situations, I didn’t know whether that was a good thing.

With a weary sigh, I slipped the photo into the album. I must have been more tired than I thought to kiss Jacob. Just because he was the most attractive man I’d ever met was no excuse. And it didn’t matter if I was a little in love with him, either. He lived and worked on the other side of the world, had a job that must be incredibly stressful, and had only hinted at the possibility of staying in Sunrise Bay for longer.

Commitment and trust meant everything to me. I’d been let down too many times to stand on a ledge and throw myself into the arms of someone I barely knew. Even if he was one of the kindest and most honest people I’d met.

After placing the last four photos in the album, I slid it into a box and tied a bright red bow around the outside.

If Jonathon and Shane’s family wanted reprints, they’d have to wait until next week. I still had to get the last canvas ready for my exhibition.

But that could wait until I’d had a cup of coffee and something to eat.

As I walked into the kitchen, I turned on the coffeepot, then opened the pantry doors. On Friday, I’d visited Candy Lane and bought a yummy carrot cake with vanilla buttercream frosting. The only way I’d made it last more than a couple of days was to cut it into slices and freeze it. Otherwise, I would have found any excuse to nibble my way through the entire cake.

With my taste buds already drooling, I picked up the last fresh piece of cake and sighed.

A knock on the front door startled me. Whoever was standing on my veranda definitely wouldn’t be Paul or Liam. Jacob had told me he was working on his home, so that left only a handful of people who might be visiting me.

With more caution than usual, I walked down the hallway. I looked through the glass panel and frowned. Jacob stood outside, holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

Worried for a completely different reason, I opened the door. “Hi.”

“I hope I’ve come at a good time.”

“Of course, you have. Is everything all right?”

Jacob hesitated before thrusting the flowers at me. “These are for you. I want to apologize. For kissing you. We only met a few days ago and I don’t usually?—”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize.” I felt my face flame hotter than the glue gun in my studio. “I kissed you, too. We were both tired and Paul was in the hospital. We were probably?—”

“Tired?”

“Something like that,” I murmured. I could think of a lot of other words that better described how I’d felt but, for now, I’d go along with Jacob’s explanation. “Would you like a cup of coffee? I was just about to have a break.”

“You’ve been working?”

I led him down the hallway. “I wanted to finish Jonathon and Shane’s wedding album. If I don’t do it today, I won’t be able to look at it until next week.”

“What else are you working on?”

“I’m finishing some canvases for an exhibition in Boulder. After that, a client wants me to take photos of a property she’s turning into a retirement village.”

Jacob’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know you shot commercial photographs.”

I took a slice of cake out of the freezer and popped it into the microwave. “The chairperson of a retirement trust in San Francisco saw the photos I took of the tiny home village. She asked me to do the same for her new development. It’s not what I normally do, but I’m happy to help.”

Jacob walked toward a five-foot-wide canvas hanging on the wall above the kitchen table.

I’d spent a lot of time creating the scene of an urban city. With its clear blue sky, multi-colored low-rise apartments, and large, open spaces, it made me smile each time I saw it.

“If the photos are anything like this one, they’ll be more than happy with the end result.”

“They’ll be similar. But I’ll have to layer the architect’s impression of the buildings on the land the trust has chosen.”

“This photo’s amazing. Where is it?”

“It doesn’t exist.”

Jacob looked at me.

I could tell by his frown that he was confused. “I created the image for a workshop I ran at Pastor Adam’s church. The theme was Imagination for the Soul. This was my representation of the perfect city.”

I checked the coffeepot before standing beside Jacob. “I wanted to create a city where people could easily move between different locations without feeling stressed or unsafe. Cycle and walking tracks outnumber the other roads. None of the buildings are more than four stories high and everyone, regardless of their circumstances, has somewhere safe and warm to live.”

“You’re an idealist.”

“I am, but it has a downside.”

“It does?”

I nodded. “It’s easy for people to take advantage of you.”

“Like your manager did when you were singing?”

“I was too trusting.” The air in the kitchen crackled with emotion. My manager had told me I needed a thick skin to survive in the music industry. When I discovered what he’d done, the only thing I was thankful for was that I hadn’t listened to him.

Jacob lifted his hand and pushed a strand of hair away from my face. “You should have been able to trust him. He was supposed to help you, not steal the rights to your songs.”

I could have stood here all day, gazing into Jacob’s eyes. But that wouldn’t get my work done or protect my heart from breaking when he left.

So instead of enjoying being close to him, I stepped away and forced a smile. “I’d better make the coffee. Would you like cream and sugar?”

“That would be great. And Andrew?”

“Yes?”

“You can trust me.”

Jacob’s softly spoken words made my heart pound. I might be able to trust him, but could I trust myself?