Love Resolution - By Michelle Mankin Page 0,11

but I bet you’re cold.”

She shrugged.

“Did you already get some coffee?”

“Yeah, I…” She trailed off as they both turned to look in the direction of an angry voice.

“Come on, move along,” Westfield was talking to a grizzled, shabbily dressed man leaning up against the side of the brick building. “You can’t stay here.”

“Scott, wait a minute.” Avery grabbed a can of orange juice off the buffet and hurried across the alley, squatting down next to the man.

Curious and a little concerned, Marcus strode after her.

“Hey,” she said to him with a gentle smile. “I’m Avery Jones.” She held out her hand.

The man looked at her outstretched hand, hesitating for a moment before he took it. “Dennis.”

“Nice to meet you, Dennis.”

“You getting married?” Dennis asked with wide eyes.

“No, just getting my picture taken.” Avery giggled. “You can watch us work if you’d like. It might be interesting. But it’s much warmer over in the tent and we have way too much food. Would you consider coming over and helping us eat some of it?”

“Sure.” His face lit up and he smiled back at her with a toothless grin. “That would be real nice. Thank you.”

She nodded and walked back over with him.

Heart swelling with pride, Marcus watched as she introduced the homeless man to the crew as if he was an honored guest. When she returned, he pulled her into his chest and squeezed her tight.

“You’ll mess up my makeup.” Her voice was muffled against his jacket.

“Avery Jones. That was incredibly kind. How did I get so lucky to have you in my life?”

She leaned back to look up at him. “That goes both ways, Marcus.”

“I think in our case, the scales might be a little lopsided.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s a matter of opinion.”

“I love you, Ace,” He whispered with two fingers held gently over her lips. He glanced over her shoulder at Dennis. “But you know you can’t save everyone.”

“I know.” She kissed his fingertips. “But if it weren’t for friends helping Justin and me, we could have ended up just like Dennis. We have so much, Marcus. Don’t we have to at least try to help those we can? By paying it forward we let people like Dennis know they matter. That someone cares. Maybe it won’t change the world, but it might change his world.”

Westfield cleared his throat. “The photographer’s ready for you.”

“Ok.” Avery squeezed Marcus’ hand. “Will you see about getting Dennis somewhere to stay when we’re done here? Some where he can go where he’ll be safe?”

“Absolutely.” Marcus smiled and pulled his cell out of his jean pocket. “I’ll be over in a bit. It’ll just take me a minute to make a couple of calls.”

“Thank you,” she said and kissed him on the lips.

“Makeup!” Scott groaned. “We need makeup on set!” he shouted.

Avery laughed. “I love you.”

“Ditto, Ace.”

An hour later, Marcus was seething and Avery was shivering uncontrollably. They had taken tons of pictures in front of the Granville Market graffiti mural, none of which pleased the temperamental, grumbling photographer.

His forty-something face pinching into a grimace, he drew off his knit cap and threw it on the wet pavement. “I don’t know how they expect me to work in these conditions and with this,” he said, gesturing at Avery, “neophyte.”

Marcus growled, pushing off from the wall where he’d been leaning. He advanced toward the man, his hands fisted. He was just about to straighten the guy out when Avery put her hand on his chest.

“It’s ok.”

“No it’s not Ace. The guy’s being an asshole.”

The photographer saw Marcus coming and backed up a step. “She needs to relax,” he said in a more conciliatory tone. “I can’t get a good shot until she does.”

Avery sighed and gave Marcus a defeated look. He could tell that she was at the end of her rope, just like him, only she was handling it much better.

“Hold up a minute,” he said getting an idea. “I’ll be right back.”

“Now what?” he heard the photographer comment. “These rock types are such divas.”

When Marcus returned a couple of minutes later, he was glad to see someone had draped a coat around Avery’s bare shoulders. Her emerald eyes sparkled and she smiled at him when she saw what he carried.

He placed the black Ibanez in her hands and glared at the photographer. “Why don’t you give it a try now?”

“Stop fretting about it. I saw the shots he took of you with your guitar,” Marcus said stroking his knuckle down her soft