The Bride Wore Denim by Lizbeth Selvig Page A

she looked at the picture rather than face Harper. She didn’t tell anybody about her fantasy crush for Cole. He wasn’t around much in the summer, but every winter he came back—just as nice as Mr. Crockett had been, but much, much younger. And hot. But it was her deepest secret.
    “Wow.” Harper had stopped at one of Skylar’s drawings. “This is amazing.”
    She turned the pad around so Skylar could see which page. It was a close-up of Bungu’s ear and eye. “I sketched it from a photo.”
    “It’s really good. You have a lovely touch with your pencils.”
    “Not as good as yours.” Skylar exchanged sketchpads with her.
    “They aren’t supposed to be like mine. They’re yours. They’re wonderful. I hope you keep it up.”
    Skylar didn’t know how to respond. Definitely nobody had ever called her drawings wonderful. She managed a blown-away “thank you,” and Harper saved her from having to say anything more intelligent by noticing the camera.
    “That’s an old beauty.” She pointed. “A thirty-five-millimeter Minolta? My dad used to have a camera like that. I played with it when I was younger than you are.”
    “It is your dad’s,” Skylar said without preamble and without really thinking. She swore Harper’s face went a little bit white.
    “What do you mean it’s my dad’s?”
    “He, um, gave it to me. He taught me how to use it and where to send the film to get it developed.”
    “ My father?”
    Skylar nodded.
    “When did he do this?”
    The joyful twinkle and flowing compliments had disappeared. Harper suddenly looked more suspicious than friendly, and Skylar stepped back one involuntary step. “About two years ago. I don’t know.”
    “Why would he do that? He loved that camera.”
    “I don’t know. He . . . he said it would teach me how to take good pictures. He said I had . . . ” She lowered her head, thoroughly embarrassed.
    “Had what?” Harper’s voice gentled again.
    “Talent.”
    Harper surprised her again with a harsh burst of laughter. “Seriously? My father told someone she had talent? You’re sure?”
    Skylar didn’t understand at all and didn’t say a word. Harper’s change of mood made no sense.
    “I’m sorry,” Harper said again. “I guess this is a little weird for me. My father is gone, and I’m finding out all kinds of thing I never knew about him.” She straightened. “I’m glad his camera is in good hands. You take care of it.”
    “O-okay.”
    “So, it was great seeing you, Skylar. I’m sure we’ll meet again. Time for me to head on. You be careful up here in the foothills.”
    Just like that, because of the camera, someone Skylar thought might be a little different from the others on Paradise Ranch, turned cool and standoffish. It was almost like she hadn’t believed Mr. Crockett had really given away the camera. Resentment swelled up again. It was pretty typical for people to change their opinions of her, but this was even faster than usual.
    “I will,” she said. “I’ve lived here my whole life.”
    For an instant she thought Harper might say something more, or apologize or something, but she gathered up Chevy’s reins, and mounted smooth as any cowboy on the place.
    “Good.” She smiled, but not like she had when they’d first met. “I’ll see you around, okay?”
    She was moving before Skylar could reply. After she’d disappeared down the trail, Skylar fought with tears for one brief moment before anger replaced her hurt feelings.
    “Whatever,” she said to no one.
    C HEVY PICKED HIS way along the rocky trail without help from Harper. With only a steadying hand on the reins, she let the gelding have his head. The farther she got from her encounter with the girl, the stronger her mortification grew. The meeting had turned Harper into a bigger mess than she’d been at the funeral, and she’d been unconscionably rude.
    But her father’s camera? He’d nearly had apoplectic attacks if she or her sisters had touched it.