Capturing Peace by Molly McAdams

anyway.”
    My blood heated, and I swear my jeans shrunk. “Are you in need of a distract—shit.”
    “What?”
    “I’m on my way to a shoot, and the guy already paid me.” The second I’d seen her name on my phone, I’d forgotten I was even driving.
    “Okay, well, have fun.” Her voice had the same sweet softness it always did, but I could hear the disappointment in her words.
    This was bad, and it wasn’t me. I was getting ready to call off a shoot—something I never did—all because of a girl. “Come with me,” I said suddenly.
    “What? No, it’s fine.”
    “I’m serious, Reagan, come with me. It’s just going to be at my studio.”
    “Coen”—she laughed softly—“go to your shoot. I’ll talk to you later.”
    “You’re going to make me late if you don’t get in your car and get your ass over here.”
    “Oh yeah? And how do you figure that?”
    I pulled into the back lot at my studio, but didn’t put my car in park as I said, “Because I’m about to turn my car around and come pick you up.”
    “Do you always get your way?”
    “Yeah,” I said without hesitation.
    After a few moments of silence, she sighed and gave in. “Fine. Fine, I’m on my way.”
    “See you soon.”
    I pressed the END button, put the car in park and turned it off before climbing out of it. Knowing Reagan was about to see what I’d given up my career to do, I couldn’t stop smiling as I got everything ready for the shoot. My client arrived a handful of minutes later, and after talking more about what he wanted and throwing around some ideas, we started. I tried not to think about the fact that Reagan should have been there ten minutes before. Turning music on as loud as it would go and putting my phone on vibrate so I would know if she called, I tried to focus on my client and what we were going for with this shoot, and not where my mind was wandering to.
    By the time the hour-long shoot ended, I was irritated and worried, and had this annoying feeling crawling up the back of my neck. I was trying not to snap at my client and wondering how I’d managed not to break my phone yet.
    Reagan hadn’t shown, and she hadn’t called.
    After he left, I flipped through the pictures and was glad I’d somehow managed to get more than enough shots that were perfect for what he wanted, but I felt bad that my client had had to put up with me. As I went through more pictures, I suddenly realized what the annoying feeling was that I’d been having, and my body stilled. Someone was watching me . . . but even as I realized it, I didn’t turn around. I knew it was her. I didn’t know how I knew, I just did.
    “Can I help you?” I asked, never looking up from my camera.
    “Get anything good?” Her voice was soft and gentle. Like she didn’t care at all that I’d been flipping out for the last hour.
    “You could have called.”
    “Why would I have done that?”
    I lowered my hands and lifted my head at the same time and just stared, seeing nothing, for a few seconds before turning to look at her. “Are you fucking kidding me? I thought you were coming here and you didn’t show!”
    “I’m here aren’t I?” The knowing grin never left her face. “You said you always get your way . . . I had to make sure you didn’t this time. Besides, if you really wanted to know if I was coming or not, you could have called me.”
    Setting my camera down, I began stalking toward her. “I can’t just stop a shoot so I can check up on you. You told me you’d be here, I trusted you were coming. Reagan, I’ve been going out of my mind wondering where you were. I didn’t know if you’d gotten in a wreck, if you just decided not to come . . . a thousand possibilities were running through my mind. I was acting like a dick to my client because of you, do you realize that?”
    Her smile faltered. “I’m sorry you were worried, honestly I was just waiting for you to turn around . . . and right now, Coen, I’m just playing