Playing for Kinley (Cruz Brothers Book 1) (2 page)

Kinley

Click.

Click.

Click.

That was the best sound in the world. The steady
click
of my Nikon D810 shutter lens in the quiet landscape as I peered through the viewfinder, perfecting the majestic shot that I wanted. The only other sounds that reached my ears were the rustling of the surrounding pine trees as the wind blew through them, the distant caw of a bird passing overhead, and my quiet breaths.

The snow-covered country before me never ceased to amaze me. I had been to many parts of the world and still the simplicity of a sight like this—the sheer white Canadian wilderness—took my breath away.

It was why I had become a photographer.

The peaceful serenity that an experience like this afforded you.

Capturing beauty such as this was not only a gift to me, but had been my sole outlet since I was a kid.

I leaned back in my crouched position behind a large rock to stretch my back and adjust the camera strap that was wound around my neck. The hand warmers in each of my coat pockets were life savers, bringing circulation back to my fingers that were only half protected in my fingerless gloves. It couldn’t be helped, though. Full gloves made holding my camera too complicated a task.

When I had set out for my afternoon shoot in three layers of clothing in single digit degree weather, I’d had to remind myself why I agreed to a photo shoot in the middle of northern Canada in December. I hated the cold weather. But being a landscape photographer, I couldn’t avoid it. Not when jobs like these paid so well and the scenery truly was magnificent.

Why everything in life couldn’t be as unassuming as nature, I had no idea.

Out here there was no need for games or agendas. There were no lies to be told or plotting to be made. And when you re-entered the real world after seeing this, you had to wonder when mankind decided to make life so complex.

I sighed and rubbed away the crease in my forehead. Sometimes my philosophical questions during shoots gave even me headaches.

But really, though. Sometimes I didn’t know whether to be proud or worried that all I needed in life were the 50 megapixels wrapped around my neck. I mean, I needed my relationships with my friends and family, sure. But this camera had become my life.

I was starting to wonder if that was a good thing or not.

After all, the person who I’d once thought was my life…well, he left me.

He was gone.

And I had moved on.

Sort of. Mostly.

Either way, he hadn’t wanted me so I concentrated on other things.

Movement in my peripheral vision caused my head to whip to the side, my vision zoning in on the dark figure leaning against a tree, holding a big rifle. No worries, though. It was just my guide that the nature magazine had hired to take me out here. Never could be too careful in the wilderness. I carried a knife just in case I happened to encounter any unseemly characters…like bobcats.

Or bears.

Not that a measly hunting knife would do anything to protect me against a bear. But carrying a gun was too difficult with all the positions I had to get in for some of my shots. Which was why I often had guides. I got so into my work that I often forgot they were there most of the time, anyway, so it wasn’t as if they disturbed me.

Plus, I would ask for triple my fee if I got attacked by a bear.

Needless to say, seeing the movie
The Revenant
had brought about a whole new level of alertness for me with my job.

I scoped out the area around me and decided to climb up the last small ridge to my left before I called it a day. From that height, I would be able to get a better shot of the frozen pond that was nestled at the mouth of the valley about a half a mile to the north.

Angles and lighting were critical with my shoots and having a wide frame camera with the high-resolution capabilities I required was by far the most essential factor.

But I was just damn good at what I did.

It was why I was in such high demand in my field. Why my work was featured in magazines and art galleries all over the country, and even different parts of the world. If Kinley Masterson took photos for you, you could bet they were the best damn photos money could buy.

I took pride in that.

Fifteen bone-chilling minutes later and I was heading back over to my guide. My fur-insulated snow boots were keeping my feet nice and toasty, but my face was wind-chapped to oblivion and frozen stiff, to the point that it made speaking difficult.

That claw-foot bathtub in my room back at the lodge was calling my name.

So was that complimentary bottle of wine.

Another deep sigh left me. Such a romantic setting. A gorgeous winter landscape outside a frosted cabin window, a crackling fire, a heavenly bubble bath, and a chilled bottle of red wine.

If only I had someone to share it with.

This job was my favorite thing in the world…but it could also be the loneliest.

Apparently, the melancholy of spending yet another holiday season without anyone special was taking over. The feeling-sorry-for-myself part of the evening was starting early.

I guess it made sense. Christmas was only two days away, after all.

Ho, ho, ho.

##

“You need to put some more meat on those bones, child, or you’re likely to blow away in this weather,” Rita commented as she set my dinner down on the old oak table in front of me.

The fifty-something-year-old woman owned the lodge-style bed-and-breakfast with her husband, Mitch. I had been here only three days and was leaving tomorrow, but I had a feeling that I would be receiving a Christmas card from this woman next year. She reminded me of Mrs. Butterworth, sweet and intent on fattening me up. And I mean that in the best possible way.

I smiled up at her. “Well, keep feeding me like this and I won’t be able to fit through the door.”

I shoved my laptop to the side to make room for my dinner. I had spent the last four hours sitting at the dining room table going through the images I took, editing the best ones and eliminating the worst.

My brain needed a break.

Rita came back from the kitchen with a gravy boat in her hands and sat down, at which point Mitch grabbed the gravy from her hands, slathered his food in it, and started shoveling away his dinner without a word.

This was one of the best parts about this job: meeting so many different people. I had made friends and connections all over the place, but it was people like Rita and Mitch who were my favorite.

“Men like a little something to hold onto, you know,” she continued with a devious glint in her eyes. “Don’t forget that.”

“Well, you definitely have plenty to hold onto,” Mitch cracked as he reached over and squeezed his wife’s side.

Three days ago I would have been surprised at that, fully expecting the woman to be offended. But I just grinned when Rita squealed at his touch, laughing out loud as she slapped his hand away.

“Enough out of you,” she said to him, the love in her eyes making them sparkle. “Eat your dinner and don’t embarrass our guest here.” He just smiled to himself as he crammed more mashed potatoes into his mouth.

I wasn’t really embarrassed. They were one of the most adorable couples I had ever seen, and I admired them for their thirty-nine-year marriage. Even more, I admired that they could still be playful and tease each other at their ages. You just didn’t see that very often these days.

It made me envious.

They were living proof that love still existed. It just didn’t happen for everyone like it had with them.

I
was living proof of
that
.

“So, you have someplace to go for the holidays, eh dear?” Rita asked.

If you ever wondered if Canadians really did use the word “eh” as much as the jokes claimed…well, they do.

“Assuming this weather cooperates, yes.”

The wind had picked up in the last hour, blowing the trees outside the windows back and forth. I was watching the weather channel closely to make sure I could still get out of here and make my flight on time tomorrow.

She waved me off. “Oh, this is nothing. You’ll be fine. You have family to visit?”

I swallowed the bite of stuffing in my mouth before replying. “My parents live in Washington, D.C., so that’s where I’m headed tomorrow. I’ll spend Christmas with them, along with my brother and his girlfriend.”

“How nice,” she said, smiling. “Our son and his wife should get here with our grandchildren tomorrow. It’s been too long since I’ve been able to spoil those little rascals.”

“You saw them last weekend,” Mitch mumbled.

“Yes, but I didn’t get to cook for them.”

Mitch just rolled his eyes and continued to eat.

An hour later, I was in my room packing when my cell phone rang. I picked it up, smiling at the screen, and answered. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hi, hon,” her soft voice came over the line. “How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you? Keeping Dad in line?”

My father was notorious for thinking he was a Jack-of-all-trades. He always had some project around the house that he was working on and even more now that he was a retired State Representative. He’d had more self-inflicted injuries over the years than any person I’d ever met. My mom had to start taking blood pressure medication just to deal with all of his trips to the doctor.

She laughed. “He thinks he’s going to re-tile both showers before Christmas. I just kept my mouth shut. It’s only when I tell him
not
to do something that he puts in the extra effort to get it done.”

“And it’s only taken you thirty-four years to figure that out,” I replied as I cleaned up the bathroom counter, packing away all of my toiletries.

“Yes, well. I’m using it to my advantage now.” I heard water running in the background and figured she was doing dishes at the kitchen sink. “How’s the weather up there? You still going to be able to make your flight tomorrow?”

I looked out the window, though I couldn’t see much with it being dark. “No problems yet. I’ll let you know when my flight lands and keep you posted if something changes.”

She sighed. “I wish you would let your father come pick you up at the airport. There’s no need to pay for a rental car.”

“With my car being in New York, it would just be a lot more convenient if I had my own, Mom. I might have some things I need to do.”

I traveled a ton for my job and primarily lived out of hotel rooms or, in this case, bed-and-breakfasts. But I had made a home base for myself in New York City years ago after moving there to establish my photography career. I grew up in D.C., where my parents and brother—who was now the new Mayor of D.C. as of November 4
th
—lived, and then I moved to Boston at eighteen where I attended Boston College.

I’d learned years ago to never get too used to any place or any situation because things could always change at the drop of a hat.

For better or for worse.

“Alright,” she said. “Just let me know when you’re on your way over. We can’t wait to see you.”

Guilt swam over me and I had to clear my throat so I could speak around the lump forming there. “I know. Me too.”

We said goodbye and hung up. I knew that I had distanced myself a little from my family ever since I left for college years ago. It wasn’t intentional. It just sort of happened without me even realizing it. I wasn’t avoiding them so much as the memories that being in my parents’ house and in D.C. in general brought to my mind. Those painful memories were what I was trying to protect myself from.

Truth be told, I left a big part of myself in D.C. a long time ago. A part of my soul had just broken off back then and I hadn’t been able to feel whole again since.

It was all due to one person.

I had been gone for that man, absolutely lost in my feelings for him. We had talked about the future. I had told him everything that I wanted out of life, thinking that he would be the one that I would eventually share all of that with. He had owned my heart completely.

And then he’d shattered it.

He left me high and dry and acted like I’d never meant anything to him.

The only man I’ve ever loved.

Parker Cruz.

And the worst part of it—the reason that I avoided home like the Plague—was because I couldn’t escape him, not entirely. Because he was my brother’s best friend. He and Clay had been inseparable growing up and continued to be in their adult years as much as both of their careers would allow.

But I had been doing my best to stay far, far away from Parker Cruz.

And that wasn’t about to change.