My stomach drops. “Oh—no, that’s not necessary.”
“Actually,” Kendrick says slowly, eyes narrowing in a I-will-get-you-back-for-this look at Blond Tease Guy, “it’s not a bad idea.”
Wait. What?
I blink at him. “Really?”
He straightens, nodding once. “If you’re going to keep wandering into the woods alone, better someone who knows the terrain goes with you.”
“Wow,” I say. “Romantic.”
Abby approaches then, Danielle still on her hip, her smile warm and open. “Don’t mind them,” she says to me. “They tease because they like you.”
“They don’t even know me.”
Danielle holds out the coloring sheet toward me—a crooked firetruck surrounded by scribbles.
“For you,” she says shyly.
My heart melts a little. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”
Abby squeezes her daughter gently. “You must be Emma. The photographer.”
I nod. “That’s me.”
“Well,” she says, glancing at Kendrick in a way that’s half smirk, half approval, “you’re in good hands with him. Even if he pretends he hates that.”
Kendrick exhales through his nose like he’s considering early retirement.
“Come on,” he says to me. “If we’re doing this, let’s go before someone volunteers to chaperone.”
I follow him toward the door, nerves buzzing, camera bouncing softly against my chest.
“Just to be clear,” I say once we’re outside, “you don’t have to do this.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you?”
He opens the truck door for me. “Because you’re going to keep taking pictures.”
“That’s not a reason.”
He meets my gaze head-on.
“It is for me.”
I climb in before my heart can make a scene, and he rounds the hood, jaw set like he’s bracing for impact.
Maybe he should be.
Because whatever this is between us—it’s already starting to feel like more than bright light and beautiful danger.
***
Kendrick drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting loose on his thigh, his posture relaxed but attentive in a way I’m starting to realize is just… him. He’s not talkative—not like the guys at the station—but the quiet doesn’t feel awkward. It feels intentional, like he doesn’t waste words on things that don’t matter.
We turn onto a narrow gravel road that winds between tall pines. The late-afternoon light glows soft and golden, slipping across his profile, outlining the sharp line of his jaw.
