Chapter 17
Two weeks later
“Taryn! Did you give Ashley the details on the Yellowstone project?”
“Yep, she knows the drill.”
Mal nodded, even though Taryn couldn’t see it from her desk in the corner. They’d brought Ashley in when they’d returned from the wedding to be the assistant and secretary for the studio. She was a smart girl from the local community college, but she had trouble remembering specifics. She was proving to be valuable, though, and had even asked for a rundown of what projects they would or would not do so she could screen calls better.
Ever since the wedding details and photos had been released, calls had been flooding in. It was getting ridiculous. Not that Mal minded being in demand, but she wasn’t about to do more celebrity stuff unless it was actually interesting to her.
She’d given Taryn and Dan more freedom and projects of their own, and they were becoming more like partners in the business than anything else. Dan leaned toward more extreme perspective shots—things that required him to skydive and rappel down canyons and the like—and they were very impressive. Taryn, on the other hand, was trying her hand at fashion shots, but in unique and artistic ways. Just last week, she’d been working with preliminary pieces for New York Fashion Week and had done some breathtaking work with lighting and a full moon in a prairie.
Mal was proud of her assistants, although she couldn’t really call them that anymore. They had taken up a lot of the workload once she’d decided to pursue her own projects. Yellowstone, for example, wanted her to come out in the fall to work with them, but she wanted to rework the contract details now that she had more experience in bigger playing fields.
It was an idea she’d had after a quick trip to Maine over the weekend to do a shoot for a client, which had given her some spectacular pieces she could do something with on her own, not just for publicity. The contract had been more intricate than the Rambling Ridge one, but they’d still been generous enough to give her the rights. Still, the experience had immediately sent her searching for a lawyer to help her prepared for more complicated projects.
The trouble with becoming more in demand was that everything got a little bit harder.
“Did Dan say when he’d be back?” Mal asked in an offhand way as she turned back to her computer and started going over the pictures Jenna had asked for again.
“Three, I think,” Taryn said around the pen in her mouth, swishing her chair back and forth so her floral skirt swayed. “Go to lunch. Caroline will shoot you if you miss it.”
Mal shuddered and rubbed at the back of her neck. “I really don’t know if I can stand the inquisition again. It was bad enough when Jenna came, and she doesn’t know anything.”
Taryn made a noncommittal noise but didn’t turn to look at her.
That was how things had gone. No mention of Hunter, thank goodness, but everyone knew he still texted and called—not nearly as much anymore, and Mal never returned any of them. But the reminder was painful. Dan and Taryn had been understanding and supportive, overwhelming her with their response, but the lack of explanation left them in a sort of limbo. They knew not to ask about it and pretended Lake Lure had been just another job, but the sympathy had also faded, which Mal understood. They were on her side, but she hadn’t given them anything to be sympathetic about. She knew that if she ever decided to share, they would be all ears and probably have popcorn ready, but until then, it was business as usual.
“Go, Mal,” Taryn urged, turning at last. “I’m serious. Aunt Cady got my number somehow, and if she calls me one more time . . .”
Mal groaned and clicked through a few more pictures. “I’m sorry. She’s impossible.”
“Yeah, but she’s also sending me cobbler, so it’s fine.” Taryn laughed and went to the fridge they’d put in the back. Mal heard her rummaging around, and then the sound suddenly stopped.
“Mal,” Taryn’s voice said slowly, “why are there three pints of Ben and Jerry’s in the freezer?”
Mal winced. “For emergencies.”
Taryn marched over and stood directly in front of her. “The work freezer?”
Mal shrugged. “Emergencies happen at work too.”
Taryn turned Mal’s chair and leaned forward so they were face-to-face, her long, surprisingly tame red bangs falling from behind her ear. “Okay. You don’t want to talk about sexy boss man? Fine, I get it. But pull yourself together, woman. You had three days on your couch with nachos, and I said nothing—”
“The breakfast nachos were a fantastic invention,” Mal interrupted stubbornly, folding her arms.
“—and I knew you were buying ice cream like it was melting, but I got that, so I said nothing,” Taryn continued. “And then you came back to work and were driven like crazy, and I thought, ‘Great! She’s back and ready to go!’ Don’t go back to the boys, Mal. Think of your hips.”
Mal gave her a look. “That’s what you’re most concerned about? My hips?”
Taryn smiled mischievously. “What else would I worry about? You could use some help in other areas, but ice cream has no respect for body parts.”
Mal laughed and covered her mouth, which made Taryn grin and move back to her chair.
“You’re a tough cookie, Mal,” Taryn said lightly. “Nothing breaks you.”
She looked at Taryn for a long moment, wondering whether the girl was being stupid or trying to be funny. She had seen Mal in her darkest moment and screened her calls for a full week. She knew Mal had been broken. She was still broken, to be honest, but she was better—much better.
Mal shook her head and went back to her computer, one more group of wedding pictures to look through and mark for retouches before she went off to meet her visiting family.
“Do you want me to do that?” Taryn asked her in a quiet, understanding voice.
Mal shook her head. “No, I’ve got it. It’s just wedding breakfast stuff.”
“I got a shot of Sophie sneaking bacon at that one.” Taryn sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Some vegan she is.”
Mal ought to have laughed, but she couldn’t. There on the screen in front of her was Hunter. She was supposed to be seeing Taryn’s shots from that day, not hers, but this one she remembered. She’d gone around taking pictures of each table of guests, as Jenna had requested, and she’d taken a few extra shots of the bridal party table. Hunter had leaned closer to Tom, and the two looked as thick as thieves. Something about Hunter’s expression—the hint of a knowing smile; the teasing, adoring light in his eye; the dark stubble even though he’d shaved—all combined to make her go for the extra shots, focusing on him.
And he’d known it.
That expression was all for her.
If only she’d known then that he had been playing her, that he’d been leading her on all week, despite what he’d said. She’d felt the warning signs, that it had all been too easy and too impossible, but she’d let him lead her around and around in circles until she was dizzy with the ecstasy of it. She’d known better.
She skipped ahead quickly, clearing her throat and tugging on her vest with one hand, feeling that something about her was off and needed to be set to rights. She smiled faintly at a few shots of her, taking secret pleasure in how good she had looked that day. She’d actually taken more care with her hair and makeup since then, but still nothing to that extent. That wasn’t going to happen ever again unless Caroline traveled with her on every major project.
The next shot appeared on her screen, and her breath suddenly vanished, and her chest seized all at once.
That moment, that wild and breathless five-second moment. It was there.
Mal was at the food table, holding a plate in one hand and the scoop for fruit salad in the other. Hunter was just to her left and behind her, hand on her right hip, his face close to her ear, whispering. Mal was smiling softly and leaning into him.
Neither was looking at the camera, but they didn’t need to.
That picture showed two people so in love that the rest of the world had fallen away, who were stealing a moment for themselves amid the chaos and noise, perfectly content just to be close to each other, coming alive with suddenly blinding brilliancy.
Tears welled up in her eyes, and her throat constricted painfully. “Uh,” she tried, choking on the words. “I think I will let you take over.” She clicked ahead to the next one and got up, reaching for her purse. “You’re right. Caroline will be mad if I’m late. They flew all this way to visit me; I should at least be on time.”
“Sounds good,” Taryn said, spinning around in her chair. Her eyes flicked to Mal’s computer screen, then back at her, her expression suddenly knowing. “One question: was it another girl?”
Mal hesitated, then sighed. “Yeah. Flame from his past.”
“Did you know?”
She shook her head, clamping her lips together. “We never talked about past relationships.”
“Really?”
“It was only a week,” Mal reminded her, the words hitching in her chest. “That’s not enough time for anything important.”
Taryn gave her an odd look, serene and sad. “I guess not. Have fun at lunch. Bring back breadsticks. I need you to help me with the saturation of the fashion shots before I send those off.”
Mal nodded, smiled, and left the studio with a wave at Ashley. Walking the streets of Denver by herself, Mal let herself cry, as she did several times a week when her guard was down. Never sobbing anymore, just sad tears that gently flowed like streams of misery down her cheeks.
How could something that wasn’t real hurt this much?
Her phone buzzed, and she looked at it.
Hunter.
Wednesday at noon—right on time. Sometimes she let it ring, wanting him to think she didn’t have her phone nearby and missed the call. Not today. She hit the ignore button and turned her phone off. She wiped her cheeks, forcing a smile onto her face as she headed for the restaurant to meet her family.
Hunter sighed and set his phone down on the desk, rubbing his forehead. He knew she was ducking his calls, but this was the first time it had gone to voice mail that fast. Today must be a bad day.
He glanced over at the picture on his desk, as he did multiple times a day. Tom had sent it to him after Mal sent them the proofs from the wedding, so it wasn’t retouched or anything. It was from the first sunrise shoot, one of the few he’d taken after Mal had tossed him the camera, and it was of her, laughing and standing in the water with the sun behind her.
He was almost positive Mal had no idea it had been in the proofs. She would never have sent that one on. Taryn or Dan had probably tossed it in, and he was beyond grateful they had. It was in black and white, which seemed to make it that much more special to him.
That was his girl.
His heart ached for a moment, and he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chest absently. Not a single word from her since the reception, and no one else could tell him anything either. He’d tried calling every mutual acquaintance, and then her assistants, but they were unfailingly loyal to Mal, much to their credit, and he never got anywhere.
Tom had told him about Jenna’s visit with her, and she’d said Mal looked well—a little skinny and tired, but she was getting more clients. That was good; he wanted her to be busy. He wanted her to have work. He wanted . . .
Well, he wanted her, but that seemed to be more and more of an impossibility with every passing day.
He hoped that with time she would mellow out of whatever had made her so upset and they would at least be able to talk. He had no idea what he had done to make her hate him suddenly, which made fixing it impossible, and that drove him crazy. He’d priced airfares to Denver more times than he would ever admit, but he knew that wouldn’t help anything.
This wasn’t a romantic comedy film where the guy chases after the girl and explains everything, followed by a rekindling of love and a happily ever after. He wished it were that simple. But Mal wasn’t a grand-gesture kind of girl, and she wasn’t a dreamy-eyed romantic. She was a realist and stubborn to the core. If he’d done something to shake her, it would take a lot of time for her to reconsider letting him back in.
It had taken a full week of being with her almost every waking minute of the day for her to admit that she loved him, without even technically doing so. A wild and intense week, sure, where they had been some of the few sane people around. They’d stuck together for survival, and magic had blossomed between them. He didn’t have time and resources to make that happen in the real world. And she wasn’t under contract with his resort anymore, which was what had forced her to put up with him from the start.
Without that, he had nothing.
He’d told her he loved her so often he’d worn it out. He didn’t even say it anymore; there was no use. He’d stopped texting her and now called only twice a week, just to see whether things had changed.
It was time to stop.
He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He’d never been so disappointed to get mail in his life as when the lawyers brought him the disc of pictures from her. Mindlessly, he’d gone through and picked out some for specific purposes and asked the resort manager to order the sizes they needed for placement, then sent the others off to advertising. He didn’t know what he’d expected from her when this was done.
He hadn’t expected anything. How could he when nothing about Mal had been expected?
The money was hers, and her name was getting out there, which was what he wanted. He made sure his associates with vacation properties and resorts were sent the details of her work, as they always shared good business opportunities with each other. And so far, no one had called him back.
He needed to be careful with his recommendations. If Mal hated him now, for whatever reason, she might not want his connections. And she would really hate being given contracts like it was Christmas. She wanted to earn them on her own merit, for her work to speak for itself. And he wanted that for her too. She had worked too hard to be handed things, and she had too much talent for that.
All he needed to do was ensure that her name got around in the right circles. Proof of her talent and desire to have her work would do the rest.
His phone rang, and he answered it. “Hello?”
“Boss man.”
His brow furrowed, and he looked at the screen, his eyes going wide at the name. “Dan? How did you get my number?”
“You called me last week, dude.”
Hunter barely avoided slapping himself in the head. “Right. And you guys all have my numbers programmed into your phone, right? To avoid my calls? Probably under a code name?”
“Correct, sir.”
“What’s the code name?” he asked with a wince, not sure he wanted to know.
“Depends on the person. I can’t vouch for anyone else, but in my phone . . . Red October.”
He almost smiled. “I’m a Russian sub?”
“It’s ironic. You’re trying to defect, and the US isn’t communicating with you or going to believe you. And nobody’s sure if they’re supposed to help you or blow you up.”
Hunter raised a brow and smiled slightly. “That is ironic. Who are you in this scenario?”
“Alec Baldwin.”
“You’re on my side?” he asked in surprise, jerking in his chair a little.
“Could be. Just hoping I’m not wrong about you, honestly.”
“I can handle that,” he said with a nod, his tension abating slightly. “And who is Taryn?”
“James Earl Jones.” Dan laughed, his voice crackling on static. “She’s the higher-up running the show, but she was never here.”
“You guys are nuts,” Hunter told him, leaning forward and resting his head in one hand.
“Do you want allies or not?”
“Yes.”
“Okay then. I have no idea what the story is. She’s not talking, and I’m not asking. She’s got this deal coming with Yellowstone for the fall that should set her up nicely. She went to Maine over the weekend and got some nice shots, decided she’s going to get way more specific in her contracts’ terms and the use of whatever she gets.”
Hunter nodded, smiling wider. “Smart girl. She’s earned her place at that table. Why not use it?”
“Right on. We’ve got a lawyer now for the particulars, some ex-boyfriend of hers.”
Hunter stiffened and sat up. “What was that?”
“Calm down, boss man. He’s married to her college roommate. Mal introduced them, so he owes her for life—not a big deal.”
He sat back with a groan of despair and relief, rubbing a hand over his face. “Sorry, it’s not my business anyway. I’m just going crazy over here.”
“Uh-huh. Anyway, we figured you know people that could get her what she needs contract-wise, stuff that will interest her.”
“You figured right,” he said, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling. “What do you need me to do?”
Again, the line crackled, louder and longer.
“Dan?” Hunter prodded. “Did I lose you?”
“Sorry, I’m coming back from a shoot, and there’s a lot of dead zones in the canyon. We’re going to send you some pictures we think make a good addition to her existing portfolio. You still have your copy of the contract from the negotiations?”
Hunter turned his chair to the bookshelf behind him and pulled the file out. “Yeah, right here.”
“Great, so we’ll send you stuff, and you get it out there, okay?”
Hunter felt more at ease than he had in weeks, and although it wasn’t good by any stretch of his imagination, it was better. “Okay.”
“And don’t go crazy about it, right? You know how Mal is. People need to want to want her. Your name can’t come up at all.”
Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I know that, Dan. I’d already figured that myself.”
“Right, right, that’s why you’re the boss man. Okay, one question because Taryn will shoot me in the face if I don’t bring back some gossip.”
Hunter looked at his phone in disbelief, then shook his head. “I’m afraid to say yes, but go ahead.”
“Are you dating anyone?”
Was that supposed to be a sign for him? A hint? Were they digging for clues or doing reconnaissance for Mal? He exhaled slowly, willing to take a leap of faith. “No,” he said softly. “No, I am not. Now a question for you, Mr. Brogada.”
“Shoot.”
He exhaled again briefly. “Do I have a chance?”
Dan was smart enough not to ask what he was talking about. “If the amount of ice cream in our freezer at the studio is any indication, I’m gonna say yeah. That and the fact that we’ve started listening to jazz now. I think you’re good, man. Give it time. We just barely got her back to drinking cocoa again.”
Hunter closed his eyes and forced a painful swallow. “She stopped?”
“Man, girls and their heartbreak are all kinds of messed up. I could write a book, but I’d wind up dead. She’s getting there, I promise. We’re looking out for her, and the more she works, the better she gets.”
“Let’s get her some projects she can really sink her teeth into,” Hunter suggested, clearing his throat.
“That’s the plan. Okay, gotta get off before the spies see me talking to you crazy Russians. I’ll be in touch.” Dan didn’t wait for him to say anything else and hung up.
Hunter propped his elbows on the desk and folded his hands in front of his mouth, losing himself in thought and memories. He could give Mal time and space, as much as she needed, but how long would it take? How much could he take?
But as long as those closest to Mal thought there was a chance, he would continue to hope.
His office phone rang, and he answered it after a moment. “McIntyre . . . Travis, hey, thanks for calling me back. Two questions: Does your brother-in-law still play poker with a VP of the USO? And do you still have your British Columbia properties?”