She toyed with the camera’s DELETE button. One push of her thumb, and he’d be gone. She pressed and his image shrank, sucked off the screen forever. The second shot filled the void, those brows drawn in surprise and annoyance, eyes narrowed to match. Her thumb hovered.

She jumped as a steaming plate was set before her, stammered her thanks to the waitress, and shut off the camera. Shut it in its bag, like she’d stuffed down her attraction and shut that motel door on him.

Four more days, she reminded herself, spanking the ketchup bottle. Four days to do this job, four days to avoid heading home and facing the fallout with Ryan.

Four days in the desert of northernmost Nevada. In the New Wild West known as Fortuity.

She eyed her camera bag.

Four days to get real good at avoiding Vince Grossier. The rest of her life to get busy forgetting him.

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