“Now, I was hoping to have Zoe Cafferty take the photos, but she doesn’t have an official studio and she’s really busy with work. So we’re using a studio photographer who comes highly recommended.”
“Fine with me.” I had no idea who Zoe was and Amy seemed to have everything under control, so I was happy to just go along with it. When we arrived, I had to hold in my smile when we walked into the photographer’s studio. The studio was the guy’s living room with a green screen draped in one corner and an array of props—including a saddle, a pair of cowboy boots, and a kid’s stick pony. I didn’t have any idea what I was supposed to do with that last item.
Given the awkward silence for most of the drive, my game plan for the day was to keep my head down and do the photoshoot without making a fuss. That seemed like the best way to deal with being around Amy for the first time since our disagreement. She was keeping her distance while the photographer set up the first shot. Doing photoshoots was nothing new to me; doing them in front of a woman I needed to apologize to was daunting.
Getting to offer that apology was going to be tough since Amy wasavoiding eye contact and even flushing slightly when she caught me looking at her. What was that about?
“Okay,” said the photographer, who introduced himself as Joel. “I thought we’d shoot for the whole ‘cowboy chic’ with these promo photos and leave room for your autograph.”
That all made sense. While I posed with the saddle and boots, Amy sat on the couch studying her phone screen, only glancing up when a question was directed at her. I tried to keep my focus on the shoot as the photographer posed me in front of the green screen without props.
“So, what kind of backdrop are you putting behind me?” The question was more to fill the uncomfortable silence than anything else, but at the same time, I shuddered to think what Joel might add without any input from me or Amy.
“Oh, well, I’ve got some ideas about that. I thought we could have some scenic views of Poplar Springs behind you,” he said, and I nodded. That made sense to me. “And then maybe some with a wood paneled wall as a backdrop.”
Since I was planning on retiring from the circuit after this, I figured that at the end of the day, it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t as if any of these pics would be seen outside the area. I would autograph all the photos they were using as an additional fundraiser, and hope they made enough so the town could have its community center rebuilt and I could move on guilt free.
Joel changed cameras and was fussing with something that looked like a battery, or maybe an external flash. “How do you feel about taking your shirt off?” he asked without looking up.
“Like it’s a bad idea.” I wasn’t here to do any sort of beefcake photos. I hated the idea of anyone being subjugated for how they looked and I wasn’t going to participate.
That seemed to fluster Joel. “Oh, well, that’s fine.” He handed me the stick. “If you could straddle the stick pony,” the photographer suggested with a slight stammer, causing me to raise my eyebrows. My sister’s kids had stick ponies, but they were preschoolers. I looked at the toy. At least it wasn’t pink and didn’t sing “I’m a pretty pony” like my niece’s did when you squeezed the ear, but I still felt ridiculous.
“What do you want me to do with this?” I held the stick pony at arm’s length.
“Ride it,” the photographer said as if it was obvious.
I caught Amy’s eyes on me and saw a slow smile creep across her face followed by a blush that spread down her throat. She was paying attention to what was going on after all. I decided I liked the blush and wondered how far it went. I decided to have some fun.
“All right,” I said and widened my stance and stuck the stick pony between my legs. I took my hat off, waved it over my head, and pretended to gallop. Amy burst out laughing, and I couldn’t stop my own laughter since hers was so infectious.
“What?” The photographer lowered his camera and looked between the two of us. He sounded defensive and a little hurt when he spoke again. “I think the kids will like this shot. It makes Cal more relatable for them.”
“Oh, definitely,” Amy said in agreement, but her blush hadn’t gone away and I knew she was thinking of something very not G-rated. I barely kept from doing a fist bump in the air.
She cleared her throat. “I think it’s a great idea.Momsand kids are going to go nuts for it.” Her words were enough to mollify the photographer—or maybe he was just dazzled by her smile. It’d had a similar effect on me.
I spent another twenty minutes posing for pictures before we were cut loose.
“You took that well,” Amy said as soon as we got back in her car. “Thanks for your patience. This fundraiser is a big deal for the town, and every little bit helps the cause.”
“He took about two hundred shots.” I wasn’t grumbling, just stating a fact. “Some of them have to be decent.”
She shot me a sideways glance. “Should be.”
A comfortable silence fell between us, and I knew that this was my chance to apologize for what happened at the ranch. I’d been in the wrong on several things, and I knew it, which meant I had to take responsibility for my actions. But I almost hated to disrupt the better vibe between us. Amy seemed as though she was ready to move past what had happened, but I couldn’t make myself do that until I’d cleared the air.
“Hey,” I said as we pulled out of the photographer’s driveway and headed back to Poplar Springs. “I’m sorry about what happened on Sunday with Henry.”
“No biggie,” she said, keeping her eyes on the road.
“I think it was,” I persisted. “I talked to my sister and she read me the riot act about how I’d overstepped.”
“Your sister?” I got a glance from her.
“Jennifer. She has three kids of her own, the oldest is five,” I said. I had no idea how she was keeping up with them while working full time for our parents. “Anyway, she informed me that it wasn’t about whether or not it was safe for Henry to ride, it was about me making a decision for a kid that wasn’t mine. I’m truly sorry about that, and it won’t happen again. I hope you know that I’d never do anything to put your son in harm’s way.”
“I do know that,” she said, giving me a smile. “And I’m sorry I snapped at you. I shouldn’t have—but seeing Henry on King again hit me hard. He fell while trying to ride around barrels, which was bad enough, but that day…” She bit her lower lip.
