Stars Over Alaska (Wild River #4) - Jennifer Snow Page 0,23

Her father’s passion for photography had transferred to Leslie at a young age. He’d take photos wherever they went and she’d always been intrigued by the apparatus he always wore around his neck.

He’d bought her a Canon of her own at age six and they’d taken several photography courses together. He hadn’t needed them, but it had been an amazing bonding experience with her dad. Her first real shot, one of the sun setting over Suncrest Peak, one she’d set up and waited hours for, to get it just at the right moment when the disappearing light cast a final illumination over the valley below, her father had framed and hung on the living room wall.

“Are you any good?” Selena asked.

“I don’t know. Not really,” she said. She used her cell phone’s camera mostly to capture shots in and around LA, but now thanks to the fire, those were gone. She doubted there was any way to retrieve the memory from her phone, if it was to be found.

“Well, if you want some practice, I could use some new shots for my portfolio. Some of the backdrops around here would definitely give me something different.”

Backdrops. Selena saw all of this beauty and wilderness surrounding her as just backdrops to her own experience. “I’m more into scenery than people.” And if she were to start taking photos of people, Selena wouldn’t be her first choice. She’d seen the star on set and that was one headache she wouldn’t bring upon herself.

Selena shrugged as though that was boring and moved on to play with a laptop. No doubt hoping it was connected to the internet.

“Your phone’s ready,” the guy said, taking it from the box.

Leslie reluctantly moved away from the cameras and approached the desk as he unlocked the screen and displayed the home screen apps. “It’s good to use?”

“Yep. All set.”

“My contacts weren’t miraculously saved and transferred over to this device, were they?”

The guy laughed. “Unfortunately, I’d need your old phone for that.”

Right. The phone that held her lifelines, her photos...gone in the fiery blaze. Thanks to Selena. “Okay,” she said, signing the paperwork for the new phone.

He handed her the box with the charging cables. “Anything else?”

She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder at the Nikon Z 7. There was no way she could buy it now. “No, that’s it. Thank you.”

“I’m starving,” Selena said as they left the shop and made their way toward the bus stop where the resort shuttle was scheduled in five minutes.

Leslie was hungry too, but she wasn’t willing to spend thirty-six dollars on a room service hamburger, so she sighed as she passed the bus stop and kept walking. “I know a place we can eat. Great food and you won’t be recognized,” she said, leading the way to The Drunk Tank, the locals’ preferred bar and eatery.

“I think I prefer the restaurant at the resort,” Selena said, eyeing the wooden double doors and the neon sign.

“No doubt you would, but we are eating here. Welcome to the local Small Town, USA, hot spot,” Leslie said, opening the doors and going inside. At this point, she almost didn’t care if Selena followed.

But a second later, Selena stood beside her, her eyes widening as she noticed the man behind the bar. “Holy shit, that dude is big.”

“That would be Tank.”

Selena nodded. “Obviously.”

Leslie held her back as she flicked her long dark brown hair and straightened her shoulders, causing her chest to stick out farther in the body-hugging ski suit. “Don’t even think about it. He has a girlfriend.”

“What?” Selena’s innocent look was a testament to her acting abilities. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” Every woman in Wild River had, at some point, wanted to take the single dad off the market before his longtime best friend succeeded in doing it last year. At six-foot-five and about a thousand pounds of solid muscle, Tank would make even the Rock jealous. And despite his ominous size, he was one of the nicest guys in town. An irresistible combination for many a local.

Selena scanned the nearly empty bar. “I thought you said this was a hot spot?”

“It is,” Leslie said, heading toward the bar. The Drunk Tank was the best place in Wild River to hang out any night of the week. It was busy during tourist seasons, but that night it was filled with the usual locals—and by filled, Leslie meant with about forty people. Not exactly LA hot spot standards, but that’s why she was