Page 45 of Slapshot Bride

I shake my head and rise to my feet.

“I love a good challenge. Dinner will be ready by six. Come down when you’re hungry?”

“Sure.”

I walk towards the door.

“And Easton?” I’m looking at her before I can think twice. “Thank you.”

A nod is all I can manage before I close the door behind me.

***

I'm pulling the chicken off the heat when I hear her on the stairs.

I plate the food.

“This looks edible.”

“Think I could impress Gordon Ramsey?”

“Man, don’t get ahead of yourself.” She lightly taps my shoulder and brushes past me.

She takes her plate, and I watch the first taste with bated breath. A smile consumes her face.

“Ouu… you did good. Freaking surprised me!”

She goes for another taste, beaming. I take the seat across from her and dig into my plate, but I can’t keep my eyes off her.

“If we’re going to be indoors for the week, we need to find something to keep you occupied, don’t you think?” I say, and she lifts her head.

“Well, I’m open to exploring. But you’re right.” She tilts her head looking around.

“What are your interests? We can start from that.”

She sets her fork down. “I don’t…” She licks her lips. “I don’t have any…”

I see it in her eyes. She’s still letting him control her mind. So I rephrase it.

“Before Preston. What did you do that was yours?”

“Photography.” The response is fast and so is the instant switch. A fond smile spreads across her face. “I had this camera in college that my brother had gifted me. I shot everything. I was even going to do it for real at one point.”

Now, that’s what I’m talking about. Riley Brooks in her element. I’m intrigued by her excitement over the topic.

“What happened?”

Just like that, we’re back to the part of her still trying to escape the mental captivity he held over her for so long.

“Preston called it cute.” She picks up the fork and stabs a piece of chicken on her plate but never raises it to her lips. “I don’t even remember the exact conversation. I just remember that one day I was working on a portfolio and a few months later I was not.”

I don't say anything for a second. When I speak again, it’s with the conviction of a man who has seen this woman and has utmost trust in her abilities and what she can build for herself.

“You should pick it back up.”

She looks at me, and slowly shakes her head. “It’s been… years, and I’m rusty. Can’t handle a camera anymore. It’s…” she smiles faintly. “It’s too late.”

“It’s never too late, Riley. And who says you have to be professional about it? Explore it as a hobby. You have the whole week indoors. You have your phone. If you ask me, I’ll say that’s enough to begin.”