“Good god, Trevor. Your mother and I taught you better than this.”
Shane stepped back to take a look at an older man coming up behind Trevor’s huge frame. He was shorter than Trevor, maybe five ten or so, and had kind eyes that reminded Shane of Ginger. So… This must be Fraser Maxwell the retired math teacher and Ginger’s father.
“Dad, this man’s the enemy,” Trevor said.
“Nonsense. Shane’s always welcome here. He’s your sister’s fiancé.”
“Not anymore!”
“That’s not true,” Shane said, then addressed Fraser. “Sir, I’m here for Ginger.”
“She’s not here right now. Went to the store with Zoe,” Fraser said. “Why don’t you come help me while you wait?”
Shane looked at Fraser and Trevor’s outfits—simple t-shirts, faded jeans and work boots—and his own—an expensive pale blue dress shirt, sharply creased dark slacks and leather Italian loafers. He shrugged. “Okay.”
A corner of Fraser’s mouth turned up. “Come on, cupcake. We got a lot of work to do.”
* * *
Ginger stared as her mom dumped two sacks of potatoes into their cart. “Does he really eat this much?” she asked.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Doesn’t he eat while he’s on a mission or whatever?”
“I don’t know,” Zoe said. “But I feel like it’s my duty to make sure he gets enough, you know? He always tells me the food is terrible.”
Ginger snorted. “He should learn to cook then.”
“I’d rather not have our farm burn down.”
They laughed together. It was so good to be at her parents’ place, applying herself to simple activities that didn’t twist her insides or make her do crazy stupid things.
Ginger looped her arm through her mom’s and said, “It’s so good to be home.”
“You should visit more often. Make the time even if your job keeps you busy.”
“Technically I’m the boss, so I can give myself some time off,” Ginger said.
“Good. You deserve it. Nobody can work all the time. When do you need to go back?”
“Not for a while. I’ve cleared my calendar for the next few weeks.”
Zoe patted her hand. “Excellent. Although I feel sorry for all the couples. You do take the most romantic pictures.”
Ginger smiled. There was something really ironic about her being a wedding photographer with a reputation for capturing romance and hope when she couldn’t even get her own fiancé to stick around. Maybe she should consider the idea that the relationship might have run its course even if she didn’t want to admit it. The sex was still hot, but there was more to a relationship than sex.
Her phone buzzed with a new text. It was from Trevor. The enemy’s here.
She frowned. What enemy?
Shane. Don’t worry. Gonna break his legs before you come back.
She gasped.
Zoe tilted her head. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Trevor being Trevor.” Don’t you dare! she texted.