Page 14 of Beauty and the Beard

“Is that how you got into modeling? Playing in your parents’ closet?”

The smile drops from his face and he gently pulls his arm from me. Rolling up the other sleeve himself, he shakes his head.

“No. It wasn’t something I chose for myself.”

His voice is barely a whisper and his chin wobbles.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad. I was just trying to get to know you a little.”

He wipes a tear off his cheek and smiles again. The pain in his eyes is now as clear as the shallow water in the bay.

“It’s okay, Leaf. I’ll… maybe when we’re fishing, I’ll tell you. That’s what you do when you fish, right? Talk about stuff while you wait for things to happen?”

“Or you smoke cigars and listen to the radio. Or silence. Depends on the day.”

He cocks his head.

“Smoke cigars? You have some?”

Nodding, I grin. “It’s a pleasure I save for boating. And I won’t do it unless you’re okay with it. Just because we’re on the water doesn’t mean it’s a smoking zone. If you don’t like it, just say so.”

He shakes his head, smiling and excited once again.

“It’s something else I’ve never tried.” He grabs his life jacket, and I step forward to adjust the buckles. “Let’s do this, Leaf. We’ll catch fish and smoke cigars and shit.”

Laughing harder than I have in years, I push us off the dock and head us out toward our destination at the end of the lake.

The boat ride to the bass spot I want to take Sasha to is a thirty-minute trip at full rip but instead of blasting us out there super fast, I slow down halfway so we can talk.

“Is that a camera bag you brought?”

“It is!” He smiles back as he pats the bag. “When I first started modelling, the camera equipment enthralled me. But some cameras were absolute monsters. I took a beginner class as an elective when I went to university and I’ve had this little baby ever since. It’s aCanon Rebeland I’ve taken some stunning photos with it.”

It’s easy to notice how much more animated Sasha is over photography than talking about modelling. His enthusiasm is real.

“What did you take at university?”

“Oh,” he chuckles, “I had high hopes of owning a business one day. I have a degree in economics and a certificate in small business planning.”

“Wow. That’s amazing. What kind of business did you want to start?”

He grows quiet again, and I think I’ve made another mistake in my conversational choice.

“Um, it’s a long story, but I just wanted to be my own boss. Make my own decisions. That kind of thing. That’s the reality of it. As for what kind of business it would be, it would still involve a camera.” He fidgets with the cuffs of my too-long shirt and gazes at the shoreline. “What made you decide to own and run a lodge?”

My pulse races, and my tongue grows thick. I should have known he’d ask this question. It’s a normal question. And it deserves an honest answer.

“I didn’t decide. I inherited it. From my husband. He, uh, died seven years ago.”

Swallowing hard, I stare straight ahead and brace for the pity that always comes when people learn I’m a young widower. It’s not usually me that tells them, but one of the staff or Millie mentions it if asked.

Sasha shocks me, though. There’s no pity. He’s appreciative?

“What a wonderful gift. He must have loved you very much to leave this to you. I’m sorry you lost him, but you must feel close to him every day here. Was he a nature lover like you?”

The ease with which his questions and my answers come shocks me. I can’t think of a time when it felt almost easy to speak about Connor.

“He was. His family owned this property for generations. Over the years, they built the lodge and then together we added the little cabins along the beach. He grew up here. He loved it.”

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