Chapter 10

Sunrise was becoming a favorite time for Hunter. It didn’t matter where they went or how much they talked or didn’t talk. Being with Mal was enough. The opportunity to hold her and steal several kisses was enough. Even without that, watching her work was enough.

She was brilliant, visionary, and artistic. The most inconsequential things were fascinating to her. She could make something beautiful out of things that Hunter couldn’t even see. She tried teaching him, showing him what she saw through her lens, but he just didn’t see it. She tried and tried to get him to understand what she did and how she could do it, but his brain did not work that way.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate her genius and find her work brilliant. He told her that so much she was beginning to hate him for it. He knew that for certain because she kept telling him so.

“If you don’t stop that,” she said with a pointed glare, “I really will hate you, and you will not get any kisses from me.”

He grinned at her from where he was leaning on a rock near the old ruins. “Stop what?” he asked, folding his arms. “I’m only staring.”

Mal rolled her eyes. “But your stare is one thousand megawatts stronger than a regular person’s. I refuse to be stared at like a piece of hamburger.” She gave him another look and went back to taking pictures.

Hunter gave her a second, looking her over. She was in her jeans and hiking boots, the white jacket from the first shoot, and one of his beanies. She was gorgeous and natural and everything he had ever wanted.

“You’re not hamburger,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“You’re a perfectly cut, seasoned, and tender piece of prime rib-eye steak.”

Mal stumbled as she whirled, cheeks flaming. “Stop that!”

He shrugged one shoulder, curving his mouth into a smile. “What? What did I say?”

“You say things like that, and then I get all fluttery and nervous. And stop staring at me with those intense eyes!” She waved a hand in the air and turned away from him, facing the lake.

Hunter pushed off the rock and sauntered toward her. He didn’t say a word, and she didn’t move when he got close. He simply slid his arms around her waist, pulled her against him, and waited. Soon enough, she relaxed in his hold and leaned back with an irritated sigh.

“Am I ever going to be really mad at you?” she asked with a hint of a smile in her voice.

He chuckled and pressed a kiss against her ear. “Probably not,” he whispered. “You like me too much.”

“Maybe.” She tilted her head back to rest on his shoulder. “How long is this going to last, Hunter?”

That gave him pause. “What are you talking about?”

“This,” she said, tugging briefly at his arms, but not dislodging them. “How long is this going to last? Because it’s moving pretty fast, and we’re in our own lovely little world here. How long until you realize that I’m just some middle-class girl with impossible aspirations who’s dipping her toes in water she doesn’t belong in?”

Hunter dropped his arms from her and turned her to face him, his emotions suddenly going haywire. “What are you talking about, Mal?”

She wouldn’t look at him, and he didn’t want to force her, so he squeezed her arms.

“What?” he asked again.

She swallowed once. “You’re too good for me,” she mumbled. “Way too good. Trust me, I’ve been told several times already. And I don’t want to be played.”

It was as if some cosmic vacuum had sucked all the air from his lungs. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and his emotional equilibrium was suddenly and entirely centered on her. She thought this was some off-the-cuff fling? That he was some rich guy with nothing better to do?

“Do you really think,” he began, fighting for control, “that I am playing with you? That this is a fling?”

She shrugged, still not looking at him.

He exhaled, drawing it out. “Then I have been doing a miserable job of courting you.”

Her head finally came up, and her red-rimmed eyes met his. “What?”

He took one hand and cupped the side of her face. “Mal, I don’t fool around. I don’t play or fling, and I most certainly don’t care where you think we are on the class and fortune spectrum. None of that matters to me. How many times do I have to tell you that I like you, that you’re beautiful, that I want to be with you, for you to believe me?”

“I just . . . I didn’t think things like this happened,” she whispered. “They don’t happen. Not to girls like me.”

He stroked her cheek softly. “Well, it’s happening, baby. To you. Despite what you think, there are no girls like you. There’s only you. You need to stop putting distance between us that isn’t there.”

She reached a hand up to pull his head down and touched her forehead to his, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He shifted to kiss her forehead gently, then pressed his forehead against hers again and let his nose graze hers. “Don’t be sorry,” he told her. “Just see what I see. I’m getting tired of fighting you for you.”

She tilted her head to kiss him softly, then buried her face in his shoulder, and he held her for a long while, the sunrise unnoticed by either of them.

She eventually stirred and smiled at him. “Have I ever told you how ridiculously good you smell?”

He grinned. “Really? What do I smell like?”

Her smile turned impish. “A man.”

“Well, good. I would hate to smell like something else.” He looked up at the sky. “I should get you back and let you get ready. We get to spend all day together.”

“Do we?” she asked, taking his hand and letting him lead her back to the truck.

“Lake Day,” he reminded her. “We rented the tour boat and reserved it for the party only. Fun in the sun on the water with a fully stocked bar and concessions.” He stopped and turned to look at her with a suggestive lift of his brows. “What kind of swimsuit do you wear, Mallory?”

She laughed and shoved at his chest. “I will be fully clothed at all times, dude. Best thing I can say is I might wear shorts, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll get a glimpse of my shoulder.”

Hunter gasped dramatically and clamped a hand on his chest. “I don’t know if I can take it . . .”

Mal rolled her eyes and got into the truck before he could get the door for her. He chuckled and got in himself. He opened his mouth to say something when Mal suddenly turned to face him.

“Did you call me baby out there?” she demanded, looking a touch irritated.

He clamped his lips together on a laugh, then returned her look with one of his own. “You would prefer muffin? Or maybe pumpkin? Snookums? How about my little kumquat?”

Mal winced and rubbed at her forehead where the beanie sat. “Fine, fine, call me whatever you want, but nothing stupid or cheesy. And absolutely nothing in front of the others, you got that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said as he started the truck.

“And keep your gorgeous megawatt eyes to yourself,” she muttered. “I need to have brain capacity in public.”

Hunter smirked and backed the truck up. “Yes, dear.”

Hunter behaved himself rather well on the boat. It was Mal, actually, who was having trouble. She couldn’t stop staring at him. Whether that was his fault or hers, she couldn’t be sure. He knew the effect he had on her. His near-constant smirk told her everything.

He was more dressed up than the other men, but still far more casual than Mal had seen him before. A pair of well-loved blue jeans, Sperry’s, and a white button-down that hung open and rolled at the sleeves with a white tank top underneath. His hair was disheveled by the wind, his scruff was alluring, and he wore his Ray-Bans the entire time, which honestly did nothing to lessen the intensity of his eyes.

She knew when he looked at her. Her entire body lit up when those eyes hit her. And she got very, very warm—warm enough to take off her oversize peach T-shirt and go with the double-layered tank tops underneath.

Hunter smirked broadly at that, but thankfully stayed on his side of the boat. She stayed as far away from him as she could bear, hanging near Taryn and Dan whenever she could. Obviously, they had to separate at times to get pictures of different things and at different angles, but they stuck together as the outsiders of the group.

Taryn found great enjoyment in Mal’s behavior and took it upon herself to point out various things to her. “You’re drooling,” she said with a snicker as she made her way behind Mal.

“So would you, if you had him,” Mal bit back, her mouth curving.

Dan choked on his drink and marked an invisible tally in the sky while Taryn grumbled under her breath. Mal glanced around and saw, to her surprise, that Reed was away from the rest of the group, sitting in a lounge chair with a pencil and notebook in hand.

The Hollywood heartthrob wasn’t trying to get with any of the bridesmaids? That was odd. She wandered in his direction, covering with the camera and new angles, knowing Hunter’s eyes were following her. She glanced at him occasionally, and his attention was riveted on her.

Yikes.

Reed didn’t seem to notice her coming, his notebook propped up against his bent knee, tanned skin contrasting with the white pages. He was shirtless, like most of the guys, and she was woman enough to appreciate the fine show of muscle on display. His dark hair tousled in the breeze, flapping against the sunglasses on his face, and she restrained the impulse to take a picture. Nobody needed more shirtless pictures of Reed Summerfield in the world. Except maybe Taryn, and she would already have taken twelve.

“Hey, picture lady,” Reed said quietly when she was close enough, still focused on his paper. “Come to get the money shot?”

Mal snorted and pointedly turned her camera toward the back of the boat. “Yeah, the houses on this side are amazing.”

“Ouch.” Reed paused to rub a hand over his heart but didn’t sound wounded at all. “She bites too.”

“Reflex,” she replied, snapping a few more photos. Then she turned back and saw, to her surprise, that he was sketching. She moved closer and peered over his shoulder, looking from the group of people near the front of the boat, then back to his paper. He was sketching all of them, and he was good.

Really good.

“You sketch?” she asked, lowering her camera and leaning on his chair.

He shrugged. “When I’m bored. Or stuck. Habit from hours on set as a kid with nothing better to do.”

His voice was flat, but she had the sense that the Summerfield family had been less of a family and more of a corporation. That couldn’t have been easy for a kid to grow up in.

“Well, it’s good,” she told him, straightening. “Like, seriously good.”

For the first time, he looked up at her. “Yeah? Not just saying that?”

She gave him a look. “You need me to tell you it’s good?”

“You don’t seem the type to try to flatter me, so yeah.”

She smiled at that. He was right; she wouldn’t. “It’s good, Reed.”

He flashed a smile of too-perfect teeth that probably would have made other girls light headed. “Thanks.” He looked back down at it and flipped a few pages, showing her more. “People are easy, once you get the hang of it. I tried landscapes for a while, but I couldn’t get it right.”

“It’s a struggle,” Mal agreed with a nod. “I’ve got it easy with the camera, but I still miss tons.”

Reed shook his head. “Not easy, Mal. You’ve got it harder. You’ve gotta catch what we’re already seeing but make it different, make it more. You have to change what we think we see.” He shrugged. “I can’t draw trees and rocks. I’m much better at pretty girls.”

She chuckled in spite of herself. “Do you draw dirty pictures, Reed?”

He looked up at her with a jaunty smile and a raised brow. “You offering?”

That made her laugh, and she shook her head at him. “No, sir.”

“I know,” he said, still smiling. “Just joking.”

He went back to work, and Mal watched him for a moment, intrigued by the detail he put into Sophie’s hair, and what a difference the detail made to the sketch. He knew what he was doing, despite his nonchalance, and that intrigued her too. There was a deeper side to this guy? Did anybody know that? Somehow, she doubted it.

“You’re not as bad as I thought you’d be,” Mal murmured, fidgeting with her camera strap.

Reed glanced up in surprise. “I’m usually considered much worse.”

“Yeah, well, I’m willing to bet you don’t let your guard down much.”

His lips twitched, and he pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head. “Same to you, picture lady.”

They shared a small smile, and Mal wondered whether her perception of rich people ought to be reconsidered.

“Wanna get a drink?” Reed offered, tilting his head toward the bar. “Totally platonic, I promise.”

Maybe not.

The words were sincere, his tone even, but there was a very rich, very intense man with skin-scorching looks that would take exception to that drink, platonic or not.

“I’m, uh . . . sort of, uh . . .” Her cheeks were starting to heat, and she prayed he would think it was a sunburn.

“Spoken for,” growled a low voice from behind.

Mal stiffened and glanced back to see Hunter watching them both, about three feet behind her.

Reed slowly raised a brow at Hunter, then looked back at Mal. “Right,” he drawled, not sounding disappointed or surprised. “Three’s a crowd.” He tapped his sunglasses back onto his face and shrugged. “I’ll keep sketching bridesmaids I wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole.”

A guy with his reputation saying that? She had a hard time believing it. “Grace is okay,” she told him. “Nice girl.”

He snorted and waved her off. “Yeah, all the more reason not to touch her. It’s me.”

Mal frowned, moving back toward the others, inhaling sharply when Hunter subtly stroked her back as she passed him.

“Please don’t play with fire, baby,” he murmured, moving back toward his former spot. “I’m the jealous type.”

Gah. She swallowed and lowered her head, pretending to look at the screen on her camera.

Too much. Much too much.

“Honey, Sophie is about to shoot lasers at you,” Taryn muttered when Mal got back. “And she’s gonna need Botox for the wrinkles she’s forming.”

Mal glanced over at Sophie, who looked like she could have spat at her. She’d warned Mal off of Hunter yet again when they got on the boat, and even gone so far as to remind Mal that he was someone else’s property, but Mal hadn’t felt particularly inclined to listen. She sighed and adjusted the camera straps. “Well, I can’t help it that he likes me and not her, even when she does her best to show off her crazy trim legs.”

“Might be crazy trim, but your calves are much nicer.”

Mal turned to look over her shoulder at Lucas, who was now by the bar getting a drink.

He shrugged helplessly. “I’m your cousin, but I have eyes. Denim cutoffs are a nice look for you, kiddo.”

“Don’t call me kiddo. I’m older than you!” she protested, ignoring his compliment entirely.

Lucas grinned and stood to his full height, looking down at her pointedly. “Yeah, but you’re tiny. I win.”

Mal rolled her eyes and took in the group without her lens for the first time in hours. Caroline and Jenna had followed her style, wearing their swimsuits under their clothes. Grace and Sophie had opted for sundresses, though Sophie’s was a crocheted number with a skimpy bikini beneath. The other three were stripped down to reveal part or all of their swimsuits and were more interested in tanning than socializing. Most of them wore oversize hats as well.

The guys were all shirtless except for Lucas, Hunter, and Tom. Taryn was having a field day there. Dan and Lucas sat at a table nearby, both wearing backward baseball caps, more interested in the baseball game on TV than anything else on board. Dan was mouthy enough as it was, but if he started hanging out with Lucas? That would be trouble.

Jenna suddenly met her eyes and smiled. There wasn’t anything to do but smile back, and Mal lifted her camera in a silent question.

Jenna nodded and pulled Tom closer, and their interaction was so intimate that Mal started snapping shots before they were ready. These were the moments she lived for as a photographer—the unplanned, spontaneous, natural moments that capture the essence of a person or a place. The artistry of her subjects was always revealed in these unexpected glimpses into life as they knew it.

She managed to get a few shots of the world’s most perfect couple, earned herself a familial wink from Tom, and then took a few random shots of everyone else before setting the camera down and finding herself a drink.

“Taryn?” Sophie suddenly called in her fake-sweet voice. “The sun is hitting me perfectly right now. Can you get a shot of it?”

Taryn gave Mal a look that made her suppress a laugh. “Sure, Soph,” Taryn called back casually, tossing her braid over one shoulder. “Lemme change lenses real quick.”

She turned and pretended to shuffle things around in her bag.

“What lens are you looking for?” Mal asked out of the corner of her mouth, knowing she had the right one on already.

“Something that highlights and emphasizes all-natural ugly,” Taryn replied. “Got one of those?”

Lucas and Dan chuckled behind them.

“Sadly, no,” Mal told her with a click of her tongue. “But play nice. She bites.”

Taryn snarled. “So do I.” She quirked her brows as she picked up the camera again and left.

Mal watched for a long moment, chewing her lip absently. Sophie stared back, expression disapproving and superior. How did someone get to be that way?

“I can throw water on her and see if she melts,” Lucas offered.

Mal laughed and squeezed the back of her neck. “Not sure what would happen there. She might explode into a burst of steam.”

“There’s an image,” Dan muttered. “Might end up killing you, man.”

“Eh,” Lucas said with a shrug. “Least I can do after she tried hitting on me the other day.”

“Did she really?” Mal asked, turning to look at him.

He shuddered. “Yep. I’ve had nightmares ever since.”

Mal gave him a look. “Why would she hit on you?”

He returned it with a cocky half smile. “I’m really very pretty, Mal-Mal. But I don’t like gold-digging snobs with inflated senses of self-importance.” He winced. “She didn’t like my refusal.”

“She doesn’t like much, it seems.” Mal sighed. “Except Taryn.”

Dan laughed once in disbelief. “She doesn’t like Taryn,” he told her. “She just hates you.”

“I know, but why?”

Lucas coughed and gestured surreptitiously. “One guess, darlin’.”

Mal followed his finger and saw Hunter, looking like a GQ model who belonged on a poster in her bedroom, staring at her. He leaned on the boat railing with his arms folded, which happened to highlight his perfect physique, and a breeze tousled his hair as if spreading fingers through it lovingly, something she suddenly wanted to do. She swallowed, and her cousin laughed.

“Go for the win, Mal,” Lucas urged softly. “If for no other reason than to be able to shove it in Sophie’s face.”

Mal smiled, but not at Lucas.

At Hunter.

And he smiled back.

Maybe neither of them were very good at public after all.