Free Goddess Rising by Alexi Lawless

shifted, looking uncomfortable under the weight of his attention. “I don’t spend much time on campus outside of classes and ROTC,” she admitted. In an obvious bid for distraction, she nodded toward the photograph. “It’s a lovely shot,” she murmured, her voice warm with a little rasp—like she’d swallowed expensive whisky—a sweet, singed quality to it.
    “I had a good subject,” Wes replied, trying to put her at ease. “Got lucky, I guess. Right time, right place.”
    Robert Wyatt examined the photo. He glanced back at Wes with a pleased smile on his mouth. “Can I buy the photo, son? This one rarely lets me take pictures of her,” he confided, nodding toward Samantha. “It’d be nice to have a photo of her in the house besides the ugly ones from the yearbook.”
    “God, Dad!” she muttered, mortified.
    “What?” her father replied, unrepentant. “You always look so damn mean in those photos.”
    “It’s true, Sammy,” Ryland chimed in. “You look cranky as all get-out every single year.”
    She pinched her brother, making him squeal as he jerked away with an unrepentant grin. “You try lining up for ages in a hot cafeteria to take those damn pictures.”
    “I do and I look good ,” Ryland sassed before jumping back so she couldn’t pinch him again.
    Wes pulled out a tattered Moleskine he took everywhere. Now that he knew her name, there was no way he was going to let her walk away without getting all the information he could. He figured he’d start with her father and work his way around to her, given her surprising reticence.
    Wes knew it was pure hubris, but he’d had a way with women all his life. Since he could remember, he’d had no difficulty coaxing whatever he’d wanted from them, but Samantha seemed to shy away from him, nervous, even diffident. Wes recalled the way she’d crossed in front of him that day, the confidence in her carriage, the deliberate gait: head high, back straight. He wondered at her sudden shyness.
    Wes opted to address her father directly. “If you give me your address, sir, I’ll print and mat another photo to send to you. It’s the least I could do as a thank you for your daughter’s unwitting participation in my work,” he added with an easy smile.
    Robert Wyatt accepted the notebook, jotting down the information in a firm, bold scrawl.
    Samantha met his eyes briefly, sending another pleasant jolt to his system, but when she looked away again, Wes scrambled to find another reason to draw her attention back.
    “The photograph will be featured in The Statesman tomorrow,” Wes told her, careful to keep his tone a humble brag. “I’m actually here to meet the reporter who’s interviewing some of the featured photographers and artists in this exhibition.” He gestured toward seating area off from the pop-up gallery. “Maybe you could join us?”
    “I wish I could,” Sam hedged, clearly looking for an excuse not to. “But we have plans.”
    “Yes, that’s right,” Robert Wyatt answered. “My kids and I were going to grab a bite to eat.” He considered Wes briefly as he returned the notebook. “It’s nothing complicated—just some good old-fashioned barbeque. If you’re free after that interview, you’re more than welcome to join us,” he added amiably, though Wes caught the glint in the man’s eye.
    Robert Wyatt knew Wes was hankering after his daughter. Clearly, the man was no fool. Wes nearly grinned, recognizing his invitation for what it was—an opportunity to get in a good grilling.
    “I’ve never turned down a barbeque,” Wes replied tongue-in-cheek as he offered his arm to Samantha. She looked momentarily confused. “We’re meeting the reporter over there,” he nodded, indicating the group of people milling around the seating area. “Shouldn’t take too long.” He favored her with his best smile, a guaranteed deal-closer with the fairer sex, and certain to deliver what he wanted—even when they knew better.
    To his