The Girl That Love Forgot

“There is no passion in your photographs. No heat or wildness.” Lifting the stack of printed pictures from the table, he placed them gently back into her hands. “I’m sorry, Miss Wolfe. But you have completely failed to capture the essence of my ranch.”

She stared at him numbly. “You … you don’t like them?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then—”

He shook his head. “The pictures are beautiful, but have no life. They are like a beautiful corpse.” He looked her straight in the eye. “Your pictures are frozen, Annabelle.

They are dead.”

Annabelle choked out a gasp. He might as well have slapped her in the face.

Your pictures are frozen. They are dead.

She’d never felt so empty or so alone as she had for these past three days. Mrs.

Gutierrez had taken care of her almost like a mother, packing snacks and tea for her when Annabelle went up to the old Moorish ruin, now just a pile of rocks overlooking the valley.

Even the boys had looked after her, reminding her of her own brothers in childhood. It had almost been like … a family.

Except for the constant ache in her heart.

She missed Stefano.

She hadn’t had any more nightmares to wake him. She hadn’t dreamed at all, in fact.

Her mind was blank. She had nothing but emptiness in her heart as she tried to throw herself into her work. She’d dragged her heavy camera bags and lighting equipment all over the ranch, taking photographs with her camera tripod and long-lensed cameras, using her lights for closer portraits inside the house.

But the truth was that she’d barely noticed the images she photographed. Not when it took all of her focus not to rush back into Stefano’s arms.

So with a trembling heart, Annabelle had waited for Stefano’s verdict as he looked through the pictures spread across the table. She’d prayed that somehow, by some miracle, he would think they were good. Instead, she’d never had her skill so thoroughly scorned.

I’m sorry, Miss Wolfe. But you have completely failed to capture the essence of my ranch.

Now, as his brutal judgment still echoed across the dining hall, Annabelle stared up at him in horror.

The boys started mumbling out excuses in Spanish.

“Better check on the new colt.”

“Need to go shovel something.”

“Need to be … somewhere else.”

The teenagers grabbed the last pastries from the table before filing out of the room with surreptitious back glances. After one last reproachful look at her employer, Mrs.

Gutierrez followed them, closing the door softly behind her.

Annabelle looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Why would you say something so cruel to me?” she whispered. She felt like she was floundering, drowning. “You’re—you’re just trying to hurt me, because of … before.”

Stefano set his jaw. “Do you really think so little of me?” he said harshly. “It gave me no pleasure to tell you this. Believe me. But you wanted the truth.”

The truth. The truth was Annabelle felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest.

But she could see in his face that he wasn’t trying to hurt her. He truly thought that her work was frozen and dead. A beautiful corpse. Just like Annabelle herself.