Page 4 of The Enforcer

Chapter Two

Kenna

Ileaned back against the cracked leather seat in my Nissan Maxima and stared out the window at Joaquin's photography studio. It was nestled between a Big Lots and a donut store. Part of me was tempted to swing by and grab a couple of donuts and a strong cup of coffee because I thought I was still tired. Because there was no way, if I was in my right mind, that I would be here.

The sun was already making its way up into the sky. It was still clutching onto summer in Texas. We never let things go without a fight. The hockey season had already started. Hell, autumn had already started, but the heat wasn't willing to leave just yet. It was like an ex-lover, not quite ready to move on.

I glanced at the outfits I had brought with me for the shoot, stuffed carelessly in a plastic grocery bag. Trying to ignore the way my heart skipped a beat every time I tried to think about actually getting out of the car and heading into the studio, bag in hand, I shifted in my seat and tried to rationalize that I was a poor college kid who wanted to do something sexy and unique for my boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

Because dammit, I had a boyfriend, remember?

But it was easy to forget about Walter when I was thinking about Joaquin, and I hated myself for it.

I shouldn't be here.

I knew I was here for more than just pictures. I didn't know what that was, but it wasn't as innocent as I was trying to make it out to be.

I hated myself for it. Joaquin was my father's best friend. Joaquin was my father's age. And yet, I couldn't stop thinking about him. Even when I was with Walter, even when he was inside of me, fucking me, whispering my name, it was Joaquin's face I saw, Joaquin's body I touched, Joaquin's name that threatened to spill out of my lips when I came crashing around Walter's cock.

I shouldn't be attracted to anyone that was good friends with my dad. I shouldn't want to fuck someone as old as Joaquin.

But I couldn't help it.

Now I was here, sitting in front of his photography studio, about to take sexy pictures for my boyfriend when all I really wanted was for Joaquin to see me in a different way. I didn't want to be his best friend's barely-legal daughter. I didn't want to be someone he considered homely, cute, or any other disparaging word.

I wanted to be noticed. I wanted to stand out. I wanted him to look at me and be in awe.

You have a boyfriend, a voice pointed out. My head already had enough comments inside of it, but this particular voice stood out for obvious reasons. This is wrong.

Maybe.

But I didn't think anything was going to happen.

I was here to take pictures for my boyfriend. Not fuck my father's best friend.

I sucked a deep breath in and glanced at the digital clock in my car. I waited for the numbers to flip until they hit 9:00AM. That was my cue.

I stepped out of my car with nothing but my purse and a plastic grocery bag of outfits for the pictures. In all honesty, I had no idea what to wear or what to bring to this thing. I just grabbed four of my sexiest outfits and hoped it would translate well through the lens of a professional camera.

I locked my car and headed to the small, unassuming building. Besides the sign that hung up overhead, I didn't think anyone would realize that this was a photography studio. Being shoved between two other businesses reduced the impact of the studio. Houston had a core set of hockey fans, but the majority of them didn't realize that Joaquin was a photographer with his own studio. I didn't know if it was because they thought a hockey player must be too masculine to have a hobby as artistic as photography, but I thought it was a shame. People were missing out on beautiful pictures because they didn't realize what an amazing gem they had in their own town.

But I knew.

I was here to take advantage of that amazing gem.

In more ways than one.

I pressed my lips together and ignored the thought. The last thing I wanted to do was cross a line.

Maybe I was already doing that.

Maybe we both were.

I glanced up at the sky. The sun was a quarter of the way into the clear, blue sky but there was a bitter coolness that hung in the air. Autumn was here and was fighting for its proper place with summer, who didn't want to let go. A chill ran through my body even though I had on jeans and a zip-up sweater.

I headed for the door of the studio and pushed it, only to find that it didn't budge. I paused. I know Joaquin told me to be here at nine - maybe he was running late?

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