Read Online The Good Daughter by Jane Porter - Free Book Online Page B

because it kept her butt from taking over the rest of her teacher’s chair. “No, thank you. I think I’ll just go for a walk around the village.”
    “I thought you wanted to start training for some 5Ks again.”
    “Changed my mind. So go. Get.” Kit made a shooing motion, gesturing for Polly to scram. “Good-bye.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “Yes. You’re exhausting me with all your stretching.”
    Polly laughed and wiggled her fingers before skipping down the front steps and taking off across the lawn.
    Kit watched her for a moment, a smile playing at her lips. PollyPowers was awesome. Truly the best friend she had outside of her sisters.
    Grabbing her cup, Kit entered the house, left the empty mug in the kitchen, and headed upstairs to change, retrieve her camera, and head back out. She had always enjoyed photography but had gotten more serious about it this past fall after finding a living social deal for an Oakland Walking Tour class from Katrina Davis Photography. She loved the class so much she signed up for several more nature photography classes, and with each one became more adept at using her camera, loving how one could frame or change the world through a camera’s lens.
    With her camera slung around her neck, Kit walked along the misty beach, looking for that which was intriguing or unusual. For angles, textures, colors. Perspectives.
    Sea foam bubbling on sand. The break of a wave. Weathered wood.
    Founded back in the 1870s, Capitola was originally just a summer camp filled with makeshift tents. Later stables and a wooden stage had been added for dancing. Eventually the tents were replaced with cabins and the dance floor became a dance hall. For Bay Area residents, Capitola-by-the-Sea was a camp rather than a place, a spot where folks craving sun and sea could be close to nature and have some fun while they were at it. Once summer ended, camp closed until the following June.
    Kit snapped away as she moved from the beach up onto Stockton toward Capitola Avenue and back down, making a loop, happier than she’d been all morning.
    Whenever something caught her eye, she lifted her camera, focused, zoomed in or out, and snapped.
    Pausing, she focused on the rusted curve of a blue bicycle fender, a red cotton dress on a mannequin in a storefront window, an older woman in a pink fuzzy sweater walking two little dogs wearing matching sweaters.
    Coming to Capitola was always bittersweet. Familiar. Layered with memories. First swim in the ocean. First kiss. First break she’d attempted surfing. First time she’d had sex.
    Kit cringed as she crossed the street and stepped onto the opposite curb. She didn’t want to remember that one. So bad. Totally humiliating. He hadn’t even liked her. Just wanted to do it to say he’d nailed one of the Brennan sisters.
    And then brother Tommy heard the rumor and went after Joe Di Sosa and beat the hell out of him.
    The Brennan sisters still got nailed but no one bragged about it afterward.
    Crouching on the curb, Kit raised her camera to capture the burnt-orange bike parked in front of Bluewater Steakhouse, the big bike’s huge ape hangers reflected in the restaurant’s frosted glass window as fog swirled around the body and wheels.
    Working swiftly, she snapped another half-dozen shots. First of the front tire, and then a close-up of the stark handlebars, and then another of the dark brown leather seat with its image of a sexy half-naked woman wrapped in the embrace of one scary snake.
    She was still snapping the intricate leatherwork when a faded-denim-clad leg swung over the seat, hiding it.
    Kit jerked her head up and lowered the camera just in time to get a glimpse of long black hair, bronze skin, dark eyes, and the slash of a high cheekbone before a black helmet came down, obscuring his face.
    Impulsively she raised the camera, snapped another photo even as he turned his head and looked directly at her.
    Gorgeous,
she thought somewhere in the back of her