Amy snapped her wrist in an upward motion then stepped back to admire her work. The annoying throb in her lower back subsided, and the confidence trickling through her lifted her spirits. It was exactly how she had pictured it. The colors bold, lines soft. Imagined images of presenting the piece for display in the art gallery downtown, flicked through her mind, widening her smile.
In her moment of excitement, her thoughts suddenly shifted to what Mark might have thought of it. "Its beautiful Amy, just like you," she knew he would say or perhaps, "your artistic creations showcase your inner beauty," he'd tell her then wrap her up in his arms and spin her back out. He would love it too. Just as he did every thing she created with paints or otherwise. Closing her eyes, she refused to acknowledge the tightening of her chest that often came with thoughts of her late husband. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and gently reminded herself that he had been gone for nearly 6 years.
Amy sighed inwardly as she tapped her answering machine with only her fingernails, contemplating the play button. She knew Jeff's voice would awkwardly request her company to an over priced meal in town where he would blatantly try to seduce her. She hated rejecting her newly divorced neighbor, but couldn't bear another night of his droning conversation, and unflattering flirting. She rolled her eyes, as each of her dates in the last four years mirrored the one before in her mind. They always ended in a drunken blur, a bed full of tissues and regret.
Gunther whined in the corner unknowingly helping to redirect her thoughts. A heavy sigh blew between her lips, she turned from the answering machine to meet Gunther's impatient stare. With his ears perked and his tail thumping viciously against the wall she couldn't help but to giggle. Amy grabbed his leash from the wall considering, only for a moment, grabbing a sweater. The leaves had begun to fall outside and she knew the slight breeze could be chilly. If it rained, she thought, it would make her walk that much better. Amy smoothed her dress, gave herself a quick glance in her full length mirror, then whistling for Gunther, she headed for the door.
The smell of rain and the warm breeze filled her senses as she stepped outside. Inhaling slowly, she enjoyed the soft breeze that danced across her shoulders and swept her hair into a lazy flight relaxing her body. The smell of coming rain surrounding her and the leaves crunching under her feet cleared any prodding thoughts.
Sauntering between the small trees that lined the worn and narrow path off her back yard, she thought about her next painting. Gunther galloped ahead marking his spots and sniffing for any new smells. Amy inhaled another lingering breath and welcomed the colors, lines and forms that filled the forefront of her thoughts.
A low rumbling growl of warning from Gunther snapped her attention to her dog. Crouched low to the ground he watched something that she herself could not see, something passed the line of trees ahead. Rarely did they encounter anyone else out here, which was part of the beauty of living several miles outside of town. Even so she didn't feel fear, but rather curiosity. Just another person out enjoying the start of the fall weather, Amy thought as she confidently approached her dog and stroked his standing hair, before making her way to the edge of the trees.
A man stood only a few yards away with his back to her holding, what she guessed to be a camera to his face. Instead of heading in a different direction and leaving the man to his business, she stood completely still and watched him. Something about the fluidity in which he moved heightened her curiosity, reminded her of Mark.
Her eyes flicked over the flannel material that covered his broad shoulders and lean torso. She had never seen him around the small town she lived in, she was sure of that. He would be hard not to notice. Her gaze dropped to his waist, taking notice that the faded blue jeans he wore fit him nicely. Her gaze lingered before lazily following his long legs down to the dark boots he wore on his feet. A tattoo on his forearm uncovered by his rolled up sleeves, caught her attention but she couldn't make out what it was. She wondered half heartedly what he was like. Something about just the sight of him intrigued her, catching her slightly off guard.
Clyde clicked the shutter of his camera capturing the dark rolling clouds, the tree braches that seemed to reach for them, and the naked hills in the distance. The high desert had been a pleasant surprise supplying just what he needed to indulge in his hobby.
The snapping sound of a twig and the crunching of fallen leaves sent him spinning on his heels towards the sound, his camera still pressed against his face. He hardly expected to see the beautiful woman that filled his lens, and barely noticed the dog at her side. She stood perfectly still staring at him, her shoulders squared, her wide open eyes reflecting slight surprise. Slowly he lowered the camera and smiled awkwardly at the woman watching him, wondering how long she had been standing there.
Amy's breath caught in her throat when their eyes met. His hair hung defiantly against his face, dark and untamed, amusement flashing in his blue eyes. The short stubble on his unshaven face darkened the line of his strong jaw, and his smile caused her to struggle with an uneven breath. There was something that lurked just under the surface, something mysterious, dark even, that captivated her.
"Hello," Clyde offered nodding to her.
"Hi," she mumbled, unsure if he had even heard her. He looked so much like Mark.
The curious glare of his gaze sent a chill dancing up her arms. She was barely aware that Gunther had lost interest and was now in the thick of the trees.
Her mind screamed at her to say something else, or at least look away, yet she did neither.
Clyde raised an eyebrow at her strange demeanor, but quickly abandoned the thought as a pair of hawks flew fitfully above the trees behind her. He quickly brought his camera back to his face, capturing a shot of the birds. Keeping the pose for a moment he contemplated his new surroundings. She was still watching him, seemingly frozen in place. He shifted his weight, as a breeze swirled her peach colored dress around her knees, revealing her shapely pale legs. Her long honey colored hair blew softly off her slender shoulders, and before he could finish the thought, he clicked the shutter closed.
Amy felt her blood pool under the skin of her cheeks. Had she imagined the sound of the shutter? No, she didn't think so. Her mind raced yet she couldn't form a clear thought. Standing as if concrete held her in place, she waited for him to lower the camera again.
He didn't. And as this handsome stranger continued to watch her through the lens, she felt heat rush over her skin in a raw mixture of embarrassment and excitement. Her mouth felt dry, and despite the breeze perspiration dotted her skin.
Clyde watched her, smiling behind the camera, a little surprised by her lack of reaction to the photo he had just taken of her. Her almost black eyes reflected something he couldn't quite indentify as they fell to the exposed skin of his chest. His blood stirred as he studied her full, slightly parted lips.
The quickening of her breaths brought his attention to the rise and fall of her small supple breasts, their tips hard and pressing through the material of her cotton dress. Another gust of warm wind blew her dress tight against her small frame, and Clyde found himself following the lines of her waist and hips. Again he closed the shutter, ignoring the strange feel the situation produced.
