predatory way. “He’s lucky to have you fighting for him.” If River wasn’t held back by a chain of tubes, he’d plant a fist in his manager’s face. He normally put up with the guy—Slade was his fiercest advocate in Nashville—but he was crossing a line. “Don’t worry, little sister,” Slade said. “I’ll watch over River better this time.”
Chapter Two
Four months later–
The darkroom’s soft red glow played with Liv’s fingers as she slipped the photograph paper into the tray of developer solution with tongs. She agitated the chemical wash over the paper, watching the image appear.
A splash of color from the jaunty tulips in the background had somehow made their way into this extreme close-up that Liv had taken of her friend in April. Waves of long chestnut hair partially hid the curve of Blaire’s cheek as she leaned against the turned down wool collar of Jeremy’s brown corduroy jacket. Such a tender moment of love. Her eyes squeezed shut. Soft lips parted. Liv was obsessed with capturing these memories on camera. She wasn’t sure why since she didn’t believe in love anymore. At least not for herself.
These weren’t the pictures she’d been commissioned to take at the Tulip Festival with its forty acres of bright, plush tulips begging to be caught on film. An artist’s dream. Those photographs were safely uploaded to Harvest Ranch’s website page and were in no way so artistic that they ran the risk of no one being able to identify the subject of the picture. No, these extreme close ups were the ones she took with her Olympus camera on her own time.
Liv loved playing with film. It was definitely not where the money was, not like working town events for the paper or taking on wedding gigs. And with the apple orchards in full bloom, she should be concentrating all her efforts on helping the family business.
The smell of bacon and eggs invaded the darkroom from the kitchen. Her mom was cooking the typical hardy farm breakfast. Her father, Merritt Bridges was getting on in years and so it was hard to keep up with the thirty-seven acres of apple orchards on their land. Liv’s brother, Grey, was off doing sightseeing tours for celebrities in the wilds of Brazil, and her sister, Mimi, had started her own soap business called Sudz in town. Their parents hired some help, but didn’t have the funds for a big work crew, not after last year’s frost ruined more than half the crop, not to mention the surprise ice storm in March. So no, the last thing Liv should be doing was reflecting on a moment so sweet, so tender… and so heart-wrenchingly foreign to her.
A dull ache squeezed at her heart as she studied the happy little scene. She lifted the photograph with the tongs to place in the stop bath, moving the water over the image before she placed the paper into the fixer tray next. It had been more than three years since West had left her and the boys for Nashville. Pip had still been in diapers, and Charlie was a toddler. West had claimed he’d been too young to get into a relationship, that they’d grown apart, that Liv had changed.
Maybe I have.
Well… I’m glad I have!
She’d been a wild teenager when she’d first started dating West. His family owned the cattle ranch next door and she’d been thrilled to catch the eye of such a handsome and daring cowboy. He’d been the quarterback of Harvest Ranch High. She was a beauty queen in jean shorts, tank tops, and boots. Back then, she’d been a little vain, a little starry-eyed, and a lot stupid. She’d thought anything was possible, including taming West’s wandering eye. What a fool she’d been. No, no, she’d stay far away from men with red flags; she’d listen to Pop’s grumbled warnings. She’d never let her dreams of love get in the way of taking care of her two boys now.
A soft rapping sounded on the door.
“Just a minute,” Liv called. She bit back her smile as the gentle knocking continued unabated. Oh, that had to be Pip. The tiny noise was the sure giveaway that his little fist was involved. “Can you wait a second, little guy? I’m almost done.”
Dragging Blaire’s photograph from the fixer tray, she flipped on the light and washed the chemical off with water, enjoying the crisp colors that dripped with sentimentality. Those kinds of emotions belonged in her pictures, not her heart.