“Wow, awesome shot,” she breathed. “Max is hot and you’ve got the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”
I started, tore my eyes from the photo and looked at Becca. “I’m sorry?”
Becca’s gaze came to my face. “Prettiest eyes, Max said it too.”
I blinked and felt my eyebrows go up just as I felt a pleasant warmth wash through me.
“I’m sorry?” I repeated.
“Max said you’ve got the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen.”
Oh my God.
“He said that?” I whispered and Becca grinned.
“Yeah, the other day, when, um…” Her gaze slid to Mindy who was listening then came back to me. “He said it the other day when we were talkin’ ‘bout you. He said you were cute when you were pissed and you’ve got the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen.”
Oh. My. God.
I looked back to the photo and examined, for the first time in my life with any great attention, my eyes. You couldn’t see it really in the photo but I knew they were deep set and hazel, more brown than green. I’d never thought much of them except wishing they were bigger, wider so I could use more flair with eye shadow and, even focusing on them, I didn’t think much of them now.
“You do have really pretty eyes,” Mindy said to me softly. “I noticed them right off the bat.”
“I… they’re… um…” I stammered.
“Really unusual, striking, eye-catching, no pun intended,” Becca said on a grin.
“Can I have a copy of that photo?” Mindy asked, still speaking softly and I looked closely at her.
She was gazing at the photo and her face was soft like her voice.
“Sure, darling,” I said softly back and her eyes skittered to me.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
I walked to the counter, handed my memory card to the clerk as well as the photo and asked for another copy.
Then I turned to Mindy and told her, “Best part about it, outside the view, is that Jimmy Cotton took it.”
“Jimmy Cotton does not take snapshots,” the clerk said to me, his voice filled with unmistakable outrage.
I turned back to him, surprised at his entry into our conversation and the tone of it, and asked, “I’m sorry?”
“Jimmy Cotton…” he waved my photo at me, “does not take snapshots.” He indicated the walls of his shop with a wave of his hand. “He’s a master.”
“Yes, I agree, but he happened onto us at the bluff yesterday and he took our photo.”
“With a digital camera?” the clerk shot back, now his tone was filled with derision as if digital cameras were the invention of the devil.
“Um…” I looked at the memory card then answered, “yes.”
“Jimmy doesn’t do digital.”
“Um…” I started but I heard Mindy whisper from beside me. “The bluff?”
I turned to her and said, “Yes.”
She snatched the photo out of the clerk’s hand and looked closely at it.