Jackal (Heartlands Motorcycle Club #12)- Frankie Love Page 0,4
lace sun dress. She has no idea how beautiful she looks with her long blonde hair flowing free to her waist, freckles on her cheeks, the sun setting behind her. She looks like a picture worth a thousand words. More.
"What are you thinking?" she asks as we head toward the parking lot. I want to reach out and take her hand, draw her to me, kiss her hard, slow, soft; damn, every way, any way. She's like this piece of perfection I can't stop thinking about.
"I was thinking of taking your picture," I admit. "You look so beautiful with the sun setting behind you and the lake, and fuck—" I shake my head, running a hand over my forehead. "I don't know what I'm saying."
But she doesn't make fun of me or crack a joke. She's softer than that, sweeter. I've watched her over the last year. She’s always doing something kind. Bringing chew toys for River's beagle, or taking Nixie out for ice cream. The kids of the Heartlands members love her. And she’s always making sure their lives are a little bit easier. She's kind when people aren't watching.
She pulls out a camera. "Well, we could take some photos,” she says.
"I should really get you home," I tell her.
"I know, but look, the lighting is just right. And you said so yourself, it would be the perfect time for a photograph."
"I don't take pictures."
"Please, let me take a picture of you," she says. "And then you can take a picture of me."
"I don't know how to work a camera like that," I tell her. "It looks like a fancy piece of equipment."
"Ruby and Ranger got it for me for graduation," she says. "I want to be a photographer. I'm registered at the community college to take photography courses this fall.”
"That's really awesome," I tell her. "You've always liked to capture moments?"
She nods. "Yeah. I don't like to be in front of the camera so much. So when you said you wanted to take my photo, I admit my first thought was, 'No way.' But I don't know, maybe if you took the picture," she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "I wouldn't be so embarrassed."
I want to say something, but I'm scared to speak because anything I'm thinking right now I probably shouldn't say out loud. That I want her, that I want to take her picture, that I want to print out 100 copies and look at them every day, that her eyes make me feel safe in a way no one else's ever have. I want to tell her she's more than beautiful. She looks like a fairy tale princess, like Sleeping Beauty. But if she's dreaming, I don't want to wake her up because I want to stay here in this place with her forever.
"There you go thinking again," she says. She taps the side of my head. "What's with you?" she asks, but not in a threatening way; in a curious way. "I swear, I've come into the shop trying to talk to you a hundred times and you always put me off. And then tonight—" She twists her lips. "I don't know, something's different. What changed?"
I swallow. "I heard you might come out. I heard some people mentioning it at the bar and I didn't want you to be here alone, without someone keeping an eye on you."
She lifts an eyebrow. "You came to be my chaperone?"
I shrug. "Maybe. Would that be so bad?"
She smiles up at me. "It depends, Jackal, if you'll let me take your picture."
"You can take my picture," I say.
"Come on," she says, taking my hand. She does it easily, as if we've done it before. Her small hand slips inside of mine. And I know my skin is hard and calloused, just like my heart, but hers is soft and smooth. "Come on," she says again, tugging on me, and I follow.
I know I'm supposed to be taking her home. It's a promise I made to myself, but now we're walking around the lake to a quiet spot where no one else can see us. The trees cover the view and it's quiet here; we're alone and there's a big rock at the shore, the fading sunlight glittering over the lake.
In the distance we hear the raucous cries and laughter of everyone having a good time at the party. But we're in a small cove, sheltered, alone. And in this moment, I feel like I