Behind them came Marie. I watched her move with her usual composed efficiency, handbag over one arm, folder tucked against her side, offering polite smiles as she said her goodbyes.
Just then, a light bulb moment hit me, and I reached for my phone before I could second-guess it.
Ian answered on the second ring.
“Everything all right?” he asked immediately.
“All good,” I said, hurrying my words. “But I’ve got an idea.”
And in a few minutes the plan was set.
Marie was just turning toward her car when I called out, “Marie.”
She turned, looking around and I waved to get her attention as I walked toward her. Naturally, her eyes went straight to my bruises.
“I saw the video,” she said with a warm laugh. “You are lucky to have such a handsome, loving—” she waved a hand vaguely, amused—“gunslinger.”
She gave me the opening I needed if my plan was to work. “How would you like to see the gunslinger in action?”
Marie blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“The photo shoot,” I clarified. “Ian’s at the Lodge finishing the gunslinger shoots. He’s quite impressive to see firsthand.”
Marie hesitated, then checked her watch. “I’m not expected back at the bank for another hour. I suppose I could spare a few minutes. But are you sure Ian wouldn’t mind?”
“I’ll give him a call.”
Marie nodded eagerly.
Our exchange was quick and my smile wide when I got off the phone with Ian. “He said to come on over.”
Marie hurried to her car, calling out, “I’ll meet you there.”
After parking in the Lodge parking lot, I walked Marie to the shoot.
I waved when I spotted Ian.
He waved back and stepped away from the photographer. He was still dressed in black—fitted shirt, dark jeans, cowboy boots and spurs. No duster this time, no long coat sweeping behind him, but the twin six-shooters rested low at his waist, leather holsters worn just enough to look authentic. Without the coat, the lines of him were sharper, making him one hot gunslinger.
He tipped his hat back just slightly and greeted Marie with a hero-worthy smile. “Good to see you, Marie.
“And you,” she replied, her cheeks heating just a bit. “I must admit, you really do look the part of a gunslinger.”
“Would you like a few photos with the infamous gunslinger before he has to get back to work?” Ian offered.
Marie grinned. “How can I resist. Besides, the women at the bank will never believe that I spent time with a gunslinger if I don’t have proof.”
“Come on then, let’s get that proof,” Ian said, holding his hand out to her. “Then you can observe the shoot from a safe distance.”
Roy, the photographer, who I assumed Ian made aware of our plan, waved them over without complaint.
I stepped aside, watching as Marie joined Ian for a handful of quick shots, nothing elaborate, more playful variations that was sure to have Marie the talk of the bank and beyond.
After a few minutes, Ian thanked her and motioned toward where I stood waiting under the shade of an oak tree.
Marie’s attention remained on Ian as he adjusted his stance at the directing photographer’s suggestion, one hand resting near the butt of a six-gun, chin slightly lowered beneath the brim of his hat.
“He does that very well,” Marie said.
