Animal Prints: Sweet Small Town Contemporary Romance (Michigan Moonlight Book 1) (8 page)

Questions and answers she should have considered on the island, but she got distracted— easily distracted—by him. A situation that wasn’t going to change, she realized, when she saw him standing outside the restaurant. His khaki pants and open-collared blue shirt were crisp, new, and seemingly designed to enhance his physique. She hoped the green sun dress and kitten heels she’d chosen did the same for her, since she’d agonized more over her outfit for tonight than she had since her senior prom.

With his attention focused on a slice of bay through the buildings, he hadn’t noticed her yet. His fingers rubbed together like he was itching to have his camera in his hands to capture the brilliant blue water and the golden light. A sudden breeze caught her hair, blowing it across her face. When she’d tamed it behind her shoulders, she felt his gaze on her face. He had an intensity about him that she’d never seen in anyone else. It was as though he absorbed every detail simultaneously. ++

She smiled despite the scrutiny. Maybe she could make this a friendly conversation versus the FBI style interrogation she’d planned in her head throughout the afternoon.

“Hi,” she said, quaking a little under his gaze. “Am I late?”

“Nope. Right on time.” His eyes dropped down her figure and she held her breath. What was he thinking? He took her hand, stroking his thumb over its back. “You look beautiful,” he whispered and leaned closer, brushing his lips against her cheek.

Disappointment was her first emotion. She wanted a kiss like they’d shared on the ferry, but perhaps he was just being considerate. They were on a street in her hometown. Either way, it was a good reminder to keep a little distance between them. For now.

“Ready to eat?” he asked.

“Always. Lead on.”
 

Inside the restaurant, the hostess took them to a corner booth, isolated and romantic with a little spray of roses waiting on the table. She slid around the booth, putting her purse and shawl between them on the seat. Distance, she reminded herself. Questions needed to be answered.

“I hear the wine cellar here is very good. What do you like? A Michigan wine?”
 

“Whatever you’re having,” she responded, studying him in the dim light of the restaurant. He sure didn’t look like a man who would cause her heartache and trouble. When he ordered a local Merlot after listening to the advice of the waiter, her sister’s plan came back into her mind. She’d get him to talk about himself over the wine and learn what she needed to know. If, by the end of dinner, she decided he was a bum, she could walk away.

“You’re quiet,” he said.

“Thinking,” she admitted.

“About me, I hope.” He gave her a smile that she had a hard time not returning.

“About how little I know you,” she said, keeping her voice low and serious.

His face didn’t register any surprise, but instead a hint of nerves. “What do you want to know?”
 

“Tell me about your studio. Where will it be?”

“Haven’t decided,” he said, breaking off a chunk of the crusty bread the waiter placed on the table and offering it to her. “Everything I do is digital so I can work from anywhere and travel when I need to so the place doesn’t matter much.”

She took the bread he held out to her. When his fingers lingered on hers for an extra second, she almost lost focus with her questioning. Holding hands and pretending logistics didn’t matter had more appeal than playing cop, but she’d never relax if she didn’t ask.

“Is Michigan a possibility for your home base?”

“It works for now. I’ve got the job in Boyne and some interviews—“ He stopped speaking when the waiter returned with the wine.
 

Colette wanted to ask about these interviews, but waited until Ian sampled the wine, approved it, and their glasses were filled with the red liquid. “Are you writing an article?” she asked as soon as the waiter walked away.

“Not exactly,” he toyed with the stem of his wine glass, his eyes cast down.

She reached for his other hand that lay on the seat between them, giving it a gentle squeeze. “What is it?”

He met her gaze, a half-smile on his lips. “I’ve been traveling the country for the past few months taking pictures and doing interviews for a book project.”

“What kind of book?” Writing a book seemed a monumental task to her. Not the kind of thing bums do.

“It’s still really early…I’m not sure….”

She suddenly felt guilty for pushing him. Whatever it was, it was important to him, but he didn’t want to talk about it. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. We can drink wine and talk about movies or music. What’s your pick?”

He shook his head like he was shaking off a bad feeling, but didn’t let her withdraw her hand when she tried to. “No, I want to tell you. The book’s in raw stages right now, but I’m documenting the lives of soldiers returning from Iraq or Afghanistan as they rejoin civilian life. I was photographing and interviewing three brothers in the Upper Peninsula when I heard about the beauty of Grand Island and decided to visit.”

“So the job in Boyne?” she questioned.

“Helps pay the bills while I travel.”
 

He shifted nervously in his seat, and she felt like there was something he kept from her. No shame in writing a book, especially one about veterans; maybe it was the finances? He was pouring time, money, and apparently his soul into this project. What if he didn’t have enough of those left to start a relationship with her?

“I started taking pictures,” he began when she was just about to change the subject, “as soon as I got state-side from my second tour. I’ve traveled up and down the East Coast over the past several months interviewing and photographing veterans.”

“Are you going for a major publisher?” She asked, now that he was talking again.

“Yeah, but I’m also trying to get the support of the Veteran’s Administration. I want this to be real, to have some teeth. I want people to see how hard it is to pick up,” he stopped, taking a breath and looking away, “an interrupted life.”

She tightened her fingers around his, letting the pressure of her hand convey the sympathy she didn’t have the words to express. After a moment, he faced her, his expression relaxing slightly.
 

“It’s not what you think,” he said. “I didn’t leave behind a girl or a career. I went into the army with my eyes wide open, knowing that I’d be overseas in a year and I was. I dropped out of college to enlist because it was the right thing to do at the time.”

She calculated back to when he would have been a student and took a guess. “September 11
^th
?”

He nodded. “I waited until the semester ended at Christmas, then I took the oath and shipped off to basic in January.” A sharpness in his voice replaced the serious determination of when he spoke about his book. It wasn’t regret, but something else. Something she couldn’t identify beyond that it hurt him.

“My father,” he started, “my father didn’t support my choice. We’ve hardly spoken to each other since.”

“Oh.” She blinked back her instant tears. She couldn’t go a day without the love of her family. She couldn’t imagine living without it for years. “He’s opposed to the military?” She suggested.

“No,” Ian sighed, “he’s a veteran himself. It’s never made any sense to me.”

“My dad was in Vietnam, too. He doesn’t say much about it, but I think it bothers him,” she said gently. “Maybe your father didn’t want you to see what he saw.”

“Maybe, but wrong war. Mine served in World War II. He’s…older.”
 

Colette gasped in surprise and her hands flew to her face. Ian truly smiled for the first time in several minutes, even chuckled softly.

“My
grandfather
was in France,” she said, “I already told you about that. Where was your father during the war?”

“He was at Normandy, then across France.” He re-captured her hand, lacing their fingers together.

“I guess a lot of soldiers were deployed there, huh? What division was your father in?”

“I don’t know. He never talked about it. Said it was in the past. Anyway,” he raised her fingers to his lips, brushing a kiss across them in a playful gesture, “let’s order so I can question you about your day and my rival, Fluffy.”
 

She understood his need to move away from the seriousness of their conversation. He’d given her some insight into his life both now and in the past. Despite knowing more about him, she still felt that he concealed something, something he wanted to tell her.
 

She flicked open the menu he handed her and decided it could wait. For now, she would do what felt right and that was trusting him. After they placed an order, she launched into the tale of Pancho and Fluffy in the waiting room.
 

Chapter Five

She slurped chilled cucumber soup and told him funny stories about the animals at the clinic and her nephew Jamie. Her face lit up and became more animated as she built to the climax of a story. He could listen to the soft cadence of her voice and the tingle of her laughter all night. He’d said enough about himself, more than he’d meant to, but hiding things from her was tough. She was so open and warm.
 

Talking about his father almost made the truth come out, but he stopped short of telling her about the business deal he had with his dad and his hopes of re-building their relationship. Letting her that far into his life was dangerous. He risked her walking right out the door, a thought that, despite their short acquaintance, made him half-sick.
 

Focus on now, build the relationship, he reminded himself, and maybe she’d forgive the deceptive way he’d met her. He ignored the nagging questions in his brain about the real estate deal and the financing for his book. Problems for later. Now, he had a beautiful woman to himself for at least the next few hours.

“You haven’t mentioned how your three miniature horses are,” he commented when their main courses arrived.

“They’re doing about as well as can be expected. I don’t know if you want the details while you’re eating,” She gestured to the porterhouse steak on his place. “It’s not pretty when they first come in.”

“Give me the cleaned up version,” he said, slicing off a hunk of meat.

“Okay,” she agreed, “the good news is they’ll recover, but right now, only one of the three can stand.”

“The other’s can’t stand?”

“No, too weak from malnutrition and their hooves are overgrown.” She pushed food around on her plate before eating a thin strand of asparagus. Did she not want to talk about it? He’d let her into his world; he just wanted into hers in exchange.

“I don’t know much about horses,” he said to encourage her. “What about the hooves?”

“Hooves are like thick fingernails. Just walking around naturally helps keep them in shape, but they have to be trimmed as well. Since these three—who I have temporarily named Orsino, Viola, and Olivia—have been penned in very tight quarters, they haven’t been moving and no one has groomed them in probably six months. Their hooves were so long and thick they had given up trying to walk.”

“
Twelfth Night
, right?”

“Very good.”

“Do Orsino, Viola, and Olivia have real names?”

“I would imagine. The neighbors say the farm was always well taken care of until the owner got sick.”

“What happened to the owner?” He put down his fork to take a drink of wine.

“She’s undergoing chemo for an aggressive cancer and hasn’t left the hospital in weeks. When she first got sick, she hired a young man to look after her animals and thought he was.”

“Took her money and split?”

“No, planted himself a field of pot on the back of the property and ignored the animals. The sheriff’s office spotted the marijuana plants while doing a helicopter search and went to the farm last Saturday.”
 

“Were there any other animals?” He kept his tone gentle, fearing the worst.
 

She nodded. Her face remained impassive, but he saw the glisten of tears in her eyes. “Orsino, Viola, and Olivia were the only ones we could save.”

“I hope that young man is doing time.”
 

“He’s in jail on multiple charges at the moment. I’m documenting everything about the neglect of the horses to present to the court.”