Her Summer Crush. Linda Hope Lee

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      “Of course I do. Don’t you plan what pictures you’re going to take when you’re on an assignment?”

      “Not so much. I like to be spontaneous. Life is out there. Let it happen and look for the moment.”

      “The moment, huh?”

      He took his gaze off the road long enough to shoot her a quick grin. “Yeah. That special moment in time that I’ll capture forever with my camera.”

      “Must be nice. For an interview, I need to have a plan.” She held up her notebook.

      “Nothing wrong with a plan. But open yourself up to being spontaneous, too.” Catching her frown, he added, “Hey, I’m only trying to be helpful. I’ve been in this business longer than you.”

      Luci pressed her lips together. “I know, but I do have my degree now, with a lot of field experience behind it. That ought to be worth something.”

      “Sure, Luci. Just some friendly advice.”

      Luci fell silent. How was she supposed to do her job with him micromanaging her?

      At Cranberry Acres, a woman in the office gave them directions, and they found Ray Dunbar rinsing out buckets under a faucet. Besides the wide-brimmed leather hat the woman had told them to look for, he wore a plaid shirt and khaki work pants. His knee-high rubber boots were caked with mud.

      He turned off the water and studied Luci. “Ervin Monroe’s daughter, right?”

      “I am.” His flat tone gave no indication whether that was an asset or a liability.

      “So you’re working for Glen this summer.”

      “Not just for the summer. I’m back in Willow Beach for good.”

      “I see.” He hooked the bucket handle on the faucet and shifted his attention to Cody. “And you’re—”

      “Cody Jarvis. I’m the summer help.”

      Ray pulled off his work gloves, and he and Cody shook hands. “Either of you ever visit the farm before?” he asked.

      Cody nodded. “When I was in grade school, my class came here on a field trip.”

      “Mine, too,” Luci added. “But I’m sure I’ll have a different perspective now.”

      Ray nodded. “Growing and harvesting cranberries is an involved operation. But let me give you a tour, and I’ll explain the process as simply as I can.”

      Ray led them to the troughs where the cranberries grew. Having taken out her tablet, Luci asked him the questions she’d listed. Keeping his promise to make his explanation simple, Ray’s answers were short and to the point. The berries were planted in April or May and harvested in mid-October. Most of the harvest was made into juice.

      “I’d like a few pictures of you,” Luci said after she’d got what she needed for the article. She looked around for Cody. He was nowhere in sight. Her temper simmered. Why couldn’t he stay nearby while she was interviewing their subject?

      Ray consulted his wristwatch. “We’ll have to make it quick—I need to leave for a meeting in a few minutes.”

      “Sure. Just as soon as I can find my, ah, associate.” Finally, she spotted Cody on the other side of the field, aiming his camera at the top of a pine tree. What did a pine tree have to do with cranberries?

      She caught his eye and waved him over. He took his time, pausing twice to aim his camera at something, she wasn’t sure what. Her cheeks were burning, and she struggled to paste a smile on her face. Ray paced, checking his watch again.

      “Ray has to leave for another meeting,” she said when Cody finally joined them. “And we need his photo.”

      “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know—” Cody wrinkled his forehead.

      Ray made a dismissive wave. “It’s okay. But let’s get a move on.”

      Later, on their way back to Willow Beach, Luci stared out the window at the passing landscape. The interview had left her nerves ragged.

      Cody broke the silence. “Did I drive you crazy?”

      “Just about,” she said, only half kidding. “This job means a lot to me, you know.”

      “I do know. And I take my work seriously, too. We just have different approaches. You like to have a plan, and I like to be spur-of-the-moment.”

      “Maybe so, but it would’ve helped if you’d hung around while I was interviewing him. There wasn’t time for as many photos of him as I’d hoped.”

      “Oh, I don’t know. I’ll bet that of the ones I took, you’ll find some that will work. And I can’t wait to read what you write about him. If I had to describe him, I’d probably say something like ‘tall dude with big leather hat.’”

      Despite her annoyance, Luci giggled. “Yeah, I can just see that in the article. Glen would have a fit.”

      “Maybe you should try something offbeat sometime. Well, not that offbeat, but you get the idea.”

      When they returned to the office, Cody pulled into the parking lot. Leaving the engine running, he turned to her. “Want to go over the photos I took?”

      “Yes, but I’d like to have a rough draft of the text before we sit down together. How about tomorrow afternoon?”

      “Sure. I have another project I’m working on, too. Something I think you’ll be interested in.”

      * * *

      LUCI SAT BACK in her desk chair and read the paragraph she’d just written. The article on Cranberry Acres was taking shape, but she still wasn’t ready for Cody’s input. And here it was, Friday already. When she’d returned to the office yesterday, Glen had summoned her for an impromptu meeting with some of the people involved in the Fourth of July celebration, and it had lasted until quitting time. At home, she’d spent most of the evening reviewing Cody’s pictures—there were quite a few—and did little writing.

      She checked her wristwatch. Only an hour before quitting time. She could stay late, but if she were going to work overtime, she’d rather do it at home. But what about Cody?

      She called him, breathing a sigh of relief when he answered the phone. She explained her predicament, ending with, “The deadline’s Monday, so that doesn’t give us much time.”

      “You’re almost done, you say?”

      “I think so. I’ll know better when we finalize the photos.”

      He let a beat go by and then said, “Why don’t I come over to your place tonight? Unless you have a date?”

      “Ah, no. My only date is with the article.”

      “How about seven o’clock?”

      “Well...okay. I’m at the Driftwood, number СКАЧАТЬ