“There’s no doubt that you’re a talented photographer. Your magazine spreads are so full of life and dazzling. But these pictures of me … they feel different. Your soul is in it. I think somewhere inside, your love of art is clamoring to get out.”

“You’re reading too much into those pictures. I photographed a woman I admire and desire on a perfect day in the sun. That’s just the way I see you—beyond beautiful—and my lens captured that.”

Tara gazed at him with sad eyes, but she just cozied up beside him on the couch and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Flatterer.”

“Hey, I’m only telling the truth.” He kissed her back, then pulled away quickly. Kissing her was addicting, and he really needed to get some work done. Besides, he could use something to pour his attention into. The past was threatening to encroach on the present with its dark claws. “Now stop kissing me, so I can get to work.”

“Aw, man. Do I have to?” She grinned cheekily and scooted away from him, leaving a respectable distance between them.

“And quit being so adorable,” he said with feigned irritation.

“You’re such a dork.” She crinkled her nose at him, holding back a laugh.

And just like that the darkness receded into the past.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Tara had the 5 p.m. to 2 a.m. shift tonight, but her mind was hardly at the brewery. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Seth had told her earlier today. Her heart broke at hearing his story. It was such a damn shame that he was letting his true talent waste away because a cruel little bitch stomped on his heart until it became a stain on the sidewalk. No one should experience something like that. Especially not someone as kind and gentle as Seth.

But at the same time, she felt intensely jealous. Was Jessica the love of his life? He’d said something about spending the rest of his life with her. Did life lose meaning for him when he let her go? Is that why he chose to give up art? Was he was still pining for her even after what she did to him?

The customer jumped a little when she slammed down his blond ale a bit harder than necessary, making it slosh onto the table.

“Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry. It must’ve slipped my hand,” Tara said, picking up his glass again. “Let me refill it for you. It’ll just be a second.”

Fuckity hell. She was losing it. No matter how frustrated or angry she was, Tara never let her mood affect her work. But the green monster was on a rampage through the brewery.

If anyone so much as looked at her wrong, they got her glare from hell. The kind where actual fire flickered in her eyes. Or at least it did in her mind.

“Here you go. Sorry about that again.” Tara deliberately set down the cup with care and forced a smile for the customer.