Page 105 of Hidden & Held

“Wait, are you talking about The Pine Needle?” Phoenix asks.

“The very one.” The photographer turns the camera screen toward us.

I agree, no edits could make it better. Phoenix is laughing her real laugh while I’m gazing at her like a man who knows he has everything he could want in his arms. I want forty copies, and I want them immediately.

“More popular than the Sunday crossword around here. Half the town will have seen it by Monday morning.”

Phoenix goes still. I look at her profile and see the slight tension around her eyes. The careful neutrality.

“All eyes on you two,” the photographer says cheerfully, already moving toward her next shot.

Phoenix watches her go, uncharacteristically nervous. “Jackson,” she says, a warning in it.

“I can’t wait,” I interrupt her thought.

She turns to me and I meet her eyes, needing her to see how badly I don’t want to hide this.

She swallows, closing her eyes before giving a nod and looking back at the street fair. “You are insufferable,” she gets out with a reluctant grin.

“You’re smiling,” I point out, grabbing her hand before she gets too far away.

“Alright, where to next, my dear rescuer?”

“Next, we head to the park.” I check my watch to see how long we have.

“Still the most pretentious thing about you.” She snickers.

I smirk. “My Proprietress doesn’t charge me enough for staying in her most excellent dwelling.” I adopt my duke accent. “And it is about time that we move toward our next engagement of the evening, ‘Reels on the River.’”

Phoenix’s face lights up as she clasps her hands in front of her. “Really? I have never been but always wanted to. It’s always felt like such a … couple activity.” She glances away at the admission.

Stepping closer, my hand finds her chin, tilting her face up until she has no choice but to look at me.

“Hey.” I keep my voice low. “It’s a couple’s activity. And I hate that you feel like you missed out.” My thumb moves along her jaw once. “But I am not sorry—not even a little—that I get to be here with you for it.”

I watch her for a moment longer, letting the words sink in. Then I press my lips to her forehead and linger longer than is proper.

When I pull back, I brush my hand down her arm, taking her hand in mine.

“Now.” I smile, pulling her hand up to kiss as a proper gentleman would. “Will my lady do me the honor of joining me for what I can only assume will be a standout performance of Emma?”

31

PHOENIX

Reels on the River has been a Cascadia tradition for as long as I can remember.

By sunset, the grassy banks along the river are dotted with quilts and camp chairs as children dart through the crowd waving glow sticks while couples settle shoulder to shoulder on the grassy bank.

The smell of buttery popcorn mingles with barbecue smoke drifting from the food carts as the opening credits of Emma flicker across the enormous inflatable screen, mirrored in the slow-moving river below.

Jackson somehow saved us the perfect spot. Close enough to hear every line of dialogue without the speakers rattling our teeth, but far enough back that we are not elbow to elbow with the rest of town.

“I thought we were eating at the food trucks,” I say as he spreads out a navy picnic blanket.

“I couldn’t risk it. What if they didn’t have your favorites tonight? I had to make sure everything was perfect.”

Opening what must be an insulated backpack, he takes out an assortment of my favorite foods. Chicken salad croissants wrapped in parchment paper. Rosemary focaccia. Fresh strawberries. Pasta salad and two bottles of strawberry lemonade.