Her pictures were incredible. They all belonged in a magazine. The colors were vibrant. Each photograph had a completely different feel. Like they were each telling a story. There was one picture of the lodge lit up in the evening. I had ridden over there for a game night with the guests, and Jimmy was tied up outside. The moon was just overhead, and stars were out. The picture was dark and moody, but the yellow glow streaming out of the windows gave it a warm and inviting feel. It was hard to look away from it. And considering the great beauty of the woman right next to me, that was impressive.
I swallowed, realizing now just what I was up against.
“When are you sending these in?” I asked.
“They’re due next week.”
I nodded. “These are good, Tuck. Really good. Your basketball skills are going to stink in comparison. But maybe that’s not saying much.”
I was expecting her to say something back. My body was bracing itself for her comeback, but she only stared at me. I was perfectly content to stare at her, even as a melancholy feeling overtook the space between us.
She was too good. This job was too good. I didn’t have it in me to mess that up for her.
“Me and Soph are going fishing and wanted you to come,” I finally said, just because if we stayed any longer like this, I’d probably confess more than I meant to.
“I’ve got to wash my hair.”
I blinked. “Huh?”
She grinned. “I actually do have to wash my hair, but I can come catch more fish than you real quick before I do that.”
And just like that, we were better than enough.
27
SHELBY
After sendingmy photos to Boise a few days later, I opened an email from one of the managers ofWild Horizon, stating that they’d received the images and would be in touch soon for an interview. Earlier this summer, I would have pinched myself, knowing that I was in the running for a photography position at a magazine. But now, my emotions were being completely overshadowed by something else.
Orsomeoneelse.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was in limbo, even though on paper it shouldn’t have felt like that. I knew where I was headed. I had come to the ranch to do a job, and I had done it. I’d even uploaded the rest of my pictures to the dude ranch website last night. It had been a satisfying project, changing out the impersonal stock photos that had lined the website when I first arrived to pictures full of life, familiar faces, and ranch activities. Photography was fueling a creative passion inside of me that gave me a place and a purpose beyond basketball.
And now, I was in the running for a photography job people would kill for. I had an apartment lined up, all ready for me to move into. Three months ago, that was the dream.
On paper, it should have been enough.
But paper was so black and white. Paper couldn’t see the sweetness in Jake’s eyes when he told me my pictures were good. Paper couldn’t tell the difference in Jake’s smiles. It couldn’t see the tiniest inflection of sadness woven inside when he asked when I was leaving. Paper couldn’t feel the heat passing from Jake’s arm to mine when we sat by each other watching a movie with Sophie the other night. When he could have sat anywhere on the couch, and he sat right next to me.
Right up until Sophie dive-bombed herself in between us.
My heart could have burst.
Paper doesn’t see those things. Which leads me to wonder how a woman is supposed to be satisfied with enough?
I hadn’t shown Jake my favorite picture. One I wouldn’t be sending to Boise. This picture I’d be keeping for myself. To console me during the days in Boise when I found myself missing him and Sophie. Jake had been riding in from checking the cattle on the mountain. I’d watched him ride in like this all summer long. I'd been waiting patiently for a sunset that would set the brush and trees aflame.
Patience must really be a virtue, because only a few days ago, I’d finally gotten my moment.
Streaks of golden light lit up the field and the cowboy slashing through a moody, dark sky that had recently poured rain. I had meant to frame him on the lower left side of the image, scaling back my viewpoint so Jake, in comparison to the mountains, looked small.
But as he rode toward me, he became my only focus. He slowly took in too much of the viewpoint for it to be a picture the magazine would want. But to me, it showcased a story unlike any other.
This was a cowboy, in his element, coming back home after some time away. The flow of the movement, the slight blur ofthe shutter, the cowboy hat. It felt different than all the others I’d snuck of Jake over the past few months. This time, the dark sky was behind him. This time, he spotted me and smiled.
And this time, that cowboy was riding toward me.
A week later,from the couch in my living room, I heard Jake’s door slam shut. I had spent the evening with Jake and Sophie, eating one of Jake’s specialty dinners, cowboy chili. Which was a can of chili heated on the stove with slices of hot dog added in, and topped with cheese. Sophie had been her usual self, excited and chattering to me about everything. We had bonded over the past couple of weeks, and I was happy to be one of the few she was comfortable around.