Animal Prints: Sweet Small Town Contemporary Romance (Michigan Moonlight Book 1) by May Williams Page B

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