Chapter 2
Two months later
“Right, so Kids’ Day is tomorrow. What kids are even going to be there? This isn’t the wedding; it’s the prewedding shindig!” Taryn laughed and shook her head. “But to be fair, tomorrow is also Designer Day. What does that even mean? Do you think Gucci is coming? Then makeup and hair tests the next day. That should be fun. And Wednesday there will be a live band and karaoke at the resort. Maybe I’ll get to sing Celine Dion—”
“Holy crap, Taryn.” Dan chuckled from his seat, looking over at her from where he rode backward in the limo. “Did you memorize the entire itinerary?”
“I did my research,” she retorted. “Jenna Hudson may have made her fame from that country star boyfriend thing, but she and her sister are the founders of a nonprofit organization that funds research for pediatric cancer, and is a passionate spokesperson for the cause. They do fundraisers and outreach, and rake in donations from all across the world. It's crazy impressive, and apparently it’s all because they had a cousin die from cancer as a kid. It wouldn’t surprise me if they rename the place St. Jenna in a few decades.”
“Sister?” Dan repeated as he sat up a little straighter. “There’s two of them? Score!”
That earned him a dirty look. “Caroline Hudson is so far out of your league you can’t even see her. Plus she’s rumored to be dating some extreme hottie from Australia. Rugby player. Flanker, whatever that means. His name is Ryan, which I find so attractive.”
Dan shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you know this crap.”
Taryn glared at him and adjusted the vest over her burgundy peasant top. “Shut up, Dan. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
“To take pictures of your idols?” he asked, crossing his ankle over his knee. “You always wanted to be a paparazzo, didn’t you?”
Taryn actually snarled as she sneered. “Don’t be petty, Dan. If you’re nice, I’ll have the bridesmaids bring you some crackers and talk to you for a bit. That way you can have the most action you’ve had since fifth grade.”
“It was a good year, fifth grade.”
Mal smiled, watching her assistants, trying not to think about the week ahead of her. She’d debated the wisdom of her decision multiple times a day since Jenna had asked her to do this ridiculous thing—taking pictures of all these high-class people and snobs, most of them wanting her to shrink the size of their noses and trim their waists in editing. There was hardly anything artistic about this venture.
But she was getting paid, and paid well, and there was simply no refusing Jenna. And if Mal were being honest, she did want to see the rest of the family. It had been too long since she had seen any of them—too long in Iowa, too long in Europe, too long in Colorado. She’d been avoiding them. She’d wanted to make her own name without them.
Which was ironic, since she might make her name because of them. Jenna’s popularity and strict media contracts pretty much ensured that Mal’s work would be in high demand. Yes, by companies and people who wouldn’t treat the work with the appreciation that Mal would like, but it might be what got her name out. She would give Jenna her best work despite what she felt about it. She could never take a project and do it half-heartedly, even if it wasn’t what she wanted to spend her time and effort on.
Taking pictures at Rambling Ridge Resort on Lake Lure might give her some notoriety as well, and in the areas of work in which she wished to thrive. Resorts could be great venues for majestic photos, and people who would see the photos could have ties to larger projects out in the world. Her mind raced with the possibilities of a safari in Africa, of climbing the tallest peaks for breathtaking once-in-a-lifetime shots, or projects more like her thesis, Rustic Americana, but perhaps with better funding.
The potential was endless.
She’d analyzed the same itinerary that Taryn had memorized, and she found several gaps where she could take the time she needed to explore. The contract with the resort was straightforward: she was to take pictures they could use in brochures, on websites, for artwork. She had absolute freedom, free run of the place, and any additional help she needed would be provided upon request. She’d had to deal with lawyers, who really couldn’t answer her questions about the artistic details, but they’d known enough about her contract and requirements that she didn’t mind that much.
She just wanted to work now.
“Taryn,” she said as the two continued bickering, “you do realize that we’re not actually part of the group, right?”
That shut the two of them up. Taryn gawked, and Dan’s eyes were wide.
“We’re . . . ,” Taryn started, clearly unable to fathom the thought.
“We are the photographers, Taryn,” Mal reminded her, reminded them both.
“You’re her cousin,” Dan said, which made her want to laugh. He’d been so blasé about the whole thing, seeming not to care one way or the other, but right now he looked as devastated as Taryn, and it was hilarious.
Mal shrugged. “I’m her cousin, but I’m the photographer. The only one, remember? And this week I’m the photographer, not her cousin. I’m not her cousin until Saturday, at the family breakfast before the wedding. We might get some bits and pieces of what everybody else gets, but if you think we’re going to be decked out in designer clothes and have our pictures taken, I think you’d better check that now.”
Taryn and Dan looked at each other and frowned.
Mal snorted. “Wanna get out? We’re not there yet; if being only a photographer isn’t good enough for you . . .”
The limo stopped then, and Jerry, the cheerful driver who had joked with them all the way from the airport, turned to face them with a grin. “Too late now, folks. We’re here.”
For a second, all three of them looked at each other in bewildered horror.
Mal swallowed. “Remember, guys, we’re professionals.”
“Right,” they said together as they clambered from the limo. Taryn said it with determination, but Dan sounded a bit sarcastic.
Mal could relate to both.
The first steps out of the limo told her everything she needed to know about this place. The trees were tall and stately, the pavement beneath her feet worn and dusty, and the air was so fresh she might have been at the top of a mountain in Colorado—except there was something earthy about this place, a flowery pine scent that bore a hint of fresh water. And yet it was the most unearthly place she had ever been. She inhaled a few times, then found herself smiling.
“Mal!” a familiar voice called.
She looked up the road to see Jenna coming toward her with six other girls. Jenna was grinning and waving and skipping to hurry up. She was wearing pristine white capris and a sleeveless yellow top, and her hair was down and flowing in the wind. She was a picture all by herself.
To her right was another perfectly blonde girl, shorter than her, but just as unnervingly gorgeous, with a brilliant grin. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, and she was more causally dressed in denim cutoffs, revealing muscular legs, and an oversize boatneck shirt. She was waving too.
Most people knew Jenna had a sister. Not many knew they were twins.
“Hi, Jenna,” Mal said, adjusting her black denim skinny jeans and her too-expensive white blazer. Impressions were important, and she was here as a professional. “Hi, Caroline.”
The sisters hugged her tightly and asked whether the trip had been all right, whether she was exhausted, and told her how cute she looked. Normally she hated this stuff, but from her cousins it was tolerable, and she couldn’t help but smile. They got the tendency for small talk from their mom, so it was second nature.
Mal introduced Taryn and Dan, who had come around from the back of the limo, where they’d been helping Jerry with their bags. Taryn was starstruck but managed to not look like an idiot. Dan couldn’t stop grinning like a fool.
Men.
Jenna turned and waved the other girls over. “I want you to meet my girls. Ladies! Come meet our photographer!”
The other five girls came over, and Mal finally got a good look at them.
“I feel like I’ve stepped into The Real Housewives of Nashville,” Dan muttered behind her.
Mal nearly burst out laughing. It was a perfect description for them. Two were multihighlighted blondes and had used so much hairspray that their mountainous curls didn’t even twitch in the breeze, and they wore sunglasses so large they reminded her of ’40s starlets. They wore heels and had bags that screamed money, not that the additional advertisement was needed. Their noses were so high in the air that the trees had competition.
Two were brunettes, one with a clearly unnatural shade of hair, equally stiff, their clothing too fancy for this natural setting. One had bangles that jingled loudly as she walked and heels so tall that it seemed like all she was missing was a stripper pole. The other was surprisingly natural in complexion and makeup and had pushed her normal-size sunglasses up on her head, which only made her hair look more perfect.
The last one had a sharp, bold pixie cut that highlighted what had to be the most perfect bone structure on the planet. If she didn’t have modeling contracts, someone was missing something. And the platinum blonde of her hair seemed nearly white in the sunshine, though a bold liner on her thin lips offset it. She wore all white, as if she were the bride, and Mal could have sworn she was wearing her jacket draped over her shoulders so it could double as a cape.
Only two of them smiled as they approached; the other three analyzed her. Fair enough. She’d just done the same thing and made snap judgments about them. She was so glad she was the help this week and not one of them. That might have killed her.
“Girls, this is Mal. She is absolutely the best photographer ever, and we are so blessed to have her.” Jenna gave her a brilliant smile, and Mal returned a small one of her own. “Mal, these are my best girlfriends.”
She gestured to the two highlighted blondes. “Brittany and Bethany.”
Mal had no idea who was who, and it didn’t matter; they weren’t looking at her either.
Jenna indicated the brunettes. “Alexis and Grace.”
The normal-looking one, Grace, smiled and waved. The other was staring at her nail as if it had sprouted fangs.
Jenna pointed at the platinum bob. “And Sophie.”
Sophie sniffed.
“Charmed,” Taryn muttered behind Mal with a cough.
Mal bit back a grin. “These are my assistants, Taryn Chase and Daniel Brogada.”
No one except her cousins cared, but the polite thing was done. Jenna turned back to Mal with a smile. “Well, let’s get your things and let y’all get settled. Dinner’s at six thirty, and we’re havin’ barbecue. Totally casual, just relaxed so we can all get introduced and stuff.”
Mal nodded once, then turned to collect their equipment when a sharp, suggestive whistle hit the air. Everyone turned to see three golf carts racing toward the group, each bearing men, and from the looks of them, they were all young. And attractive.
Intrigued, Mal migrated with the rest of the group toward them, and she heard, and felt, Taryn and Dan behind her. Catching herself in the act, she stopped suddenly, and both slammed into her back. They snickered and tried not to topple over, and Mal finally felt more comfortable. It didn’t matter whether everyone around her was fancy; she was always going to be her awkward self, and that worked for her.
One of the guys got out of the golf cart and went over to Jenna, kissing her cheek. Based on tabloids and Google searches, Mal surmised that he was Jenna’s fiancé, Tom, and she could safely say that no photo did him justice. The man was tall, dark, and just the right mixture of heaven and earth to make toes tingle and mouths water.
As the rest of the men got out of the carts and came over, the wave of tingles intensified into a monsoon. Attractive was an understatement.
There were six of them, all told, and they looked like a spread for GQ, except they all wore jeans—expensive, perfectly fitting jeans. They were old-money southern royalty in every respect. Her cousin Lucas was among them, and where his sisters were blonde, his hair was dark, but he bore the same tan, the same twinkling eyes, and the same dimple, which, when combined with his crooked grin, made him dangerous. He saw Mal and grinned, winking and shoving his hands into his pockets.
One of the men was hanging back by the golf cart, leaning on it and surveying the group with a hint of amusement in the curve of his perfect lips. Stonewashed jeans, pale-green button-down that was open at the throat and with sleeves rolled, dark tousled hair, the ideal amount of scruff, and intense eyes that were of indeterminate color from this distance . . . Mal knew she was openly gaping at him, but she didn’t care. Every breath felt like a hiccup in her chest, and she was afraid to blink.
The other three men came over to the group and might have been models with their perfect features, perfect clothing, perfect bodies. One looked too much like Tom to be anything other than his brother, and the other two had something of an aw-shucks air about them that made any sentient, red-blooded female smile and sigh at the same time. Something about the group of men looked posed, but perfectly so. And the combination of all of them together made one feel somehow both insignificant and on fire.
“Ooh,” Taryn whispered in a guttural tone. “Pretty.”
Mal gave a breathy uh-huh of assent, then murmured, “You know the . . . the thing about unrealistic expectations in men? This is . . . this is what they mean.”
Dan cleared his throat. “I’m feeling a bit insecure about my masculinity right now.”
“Me too,” Taryn echoed, starting to fan herself with a hand.
They gawked together for a long moment, and Mal, feeling like a kid at Disney World for the first time, had no idea what to do next.
So she did what came naturally to her.
She laughed.
And not delicately, of course. She snorted and wheezed, covering her mouth and squeezing her eyes shut. Taryn ducked her head against Mal, giggling softly. Dan chuckled and put a hand on Mal’s shoulder.
“Easy, boss. Breathe . . . ,” he teased.
“It’s not real,” Mal gasped between laughs. “This is so not real.”
She opened her eyes again and tried to calm herself, but it was impossible. How could she be serious when there was a display of eye candy that had to be the envy of the earth right in front of her? She wasn’t normally the giggly type, but something about this whole situation was downright hilarious.
“Mal, Mal,” Taryn tried, still giggling. “Who are they?”
“That’s Tom, he’s the groom,” Mal said, indicating with her head. “And that’s my cousin Lucas, Jenna and Caroline’s little brother.”
Dan scoffed. “Little brother? The guy is big, and with perfect proportions—”
“I’d like a portion,” Taryn interrupted.
Mal snickered and covered her mouth again. “That’s my cousin,” she reminded her.
Taryn gave her a sharp look. “Mal, you have got to invite me to a family reunion. I will pay you. A lot.”
“We’re already here, Taryn,” Dan pointed out wryly. “Need a drop cloth?”
“Among other things,” Taryn replied as she looked back at the men. “What does your hunk of man meat cousin do again, Mal?”
“Investment banking.”
Taryn sighed like a fangirl. “I’ll invest in that.”
“Real people don’t look like that,” Mal said as she took in the group as a whole. Really, it was eerie how many beautiful people were standing in front of them. Lightning was going to strike them, or the earth would open up and swallow them whole or something. Things like this didn’t happen.
“Those are real people,” Dan quipped, his voice hitching as one of the girls tossed her hair, smiling at one of the guys.
Mal felt herself sigh when Mr. Stonewashed Jeans looked at her, and she had to clamp down on her lip to keep from making it audible.
“Really, really real,” Taryn said.
Mal and Taryn burst out laughing and stifled it as quickly as they could, as some of the group finally looked at them in confusion, which only made them laugh more. Breathing was suddenly too hard. Mal gripped her assistants for balance, though it was hard to do with Taryn leaning on her for support, gasping and wheezing for air. Dan was the only one moderately composed, but even he had to keep his lips squeezed shut.
“This is without a doubt,” Mal managed, “the most bizarre thing I have ever done.”
“Best assistantship ever,” Taryn said as she stood upright, wiping her tears of mirth away. “Oh man, sorry, boss. I just embarrassed all of us.”
Mal shook her head, smiling broadly. “No worries. At least I can laugh with you guys. Who knows what the rest of the week will be like?”
“Very well dressed,” Dan said dryly, which made her grin spread even further.
“Mal!” Jenna called, linking her arm with Tom’s. “The boys just finished a tour of the place, but we want to see it too. Wanna go? You can get ideas for your shoot.”
That was an idea Mal could certainly get behind. She nodded and turned to the others. “Let’s get primary shots for now, one camera. We can use phones for the others for landmarking. Anything good we can come back and get.”
All business now, the other two nodded and went to the trunk of the limo to finish unloading. Mal took off her blazer and tucked it under her arm, then grabbed the hair tie on her wrist and twisted her hair back. It was too hot for the jacket if she was going to work, and she needed her arms free. The sheer color-block shell she was wearing wasn’t what she was used to working in, but it would do. She was grateful she’d worn a black tank beneath it. With the flock of females parading around here, there was too much being revealed as it was.
“The resort concierge will take your stuff to the houses,” Jenna called as she and Tom headed for the golf cart with Caroline. “Just pull it out of the limo and set it aside. No, wait, Mal!”
Mal turned as she had begun hauling her stuff toward where Taryn and Dan had set theirs. “What?” she called back.
“Silly girl, you’re not staying with them.” Jenna laughed as she got into her cart. “They’ll have their own place. You’re staying with us girls. Won’t that be fun?”
“What?” Mal bleated in shock, dropping her blazer on the ground. She glanced back at Taryn and Dan, who mirrored her horrified expression.
Jenna was too busy laughing with her fiancé and sister as they backed up and took off to notice her.
“Mal-Mal!” Lucas yelled as he settled himself into a driver’s seat. “Come on! I called y’all for my cart. Let’s go, heifer!”
Mal swallowed the wave of nausea that rolled over her and picked up her jacket, setting it with the rest of her equipment. Then she took the camera Taryn held out to her and, blinking hard to erase the sudden blurriness, wandered over to her cousin.
Hunter had never seen any woman turn that shade of greenish pale before, particularly over something as basic as staying with a bunch of girls before a wedding. She was the photographer. Why wouldn’t she stay with the bridal party during something like this? And when it was a girl like Jenna, it should have been a natural assumption. But she looked as though she’d rather eat the dirt beneath her ballet flats.
She jerked as she finally seemed to come back to the present thanks to Lucas’s annoying honking. It was nice to see her look less zombielike—and for her to be toned down a bit.
He hadn’t been paying attention to anybody when they’d come back from driving around. Tom and Lucas and the rest of the guys had gone over to mingle and talk, and no doubt flirt, but Hunter didn’t care about any of that. He wasn’t a particularly social person unless he had to be. He was here for Tom and for the years of friendship they’d had and for Jenna because he couldn’t help but like her. But as for the rest, he really couldn’t have cared less.
He had noticed enough to wonder why the small brunette and her two friends kept their distance, but it wasn’t until he heard an unmistakable snort that he’d taken a good look.
She was cute, he was honest enough to admit, and he couldn’t have said whether she was wearing makeup, which was interesting in a crowd like this. Her assistant wore enough for both of them, but she seemed to be the type of character who collected attention the way others collected stamps or key chains. The three of them had been huddled together, talking so quietly he couldn’t catch any of it.
Then the photographer had laughed.
There was nothing unusual or magical about her laugh. It held no musical qualities. It wasn’t infectious or adorable. It was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Except it was. It was absolutely extraordinary.
It had completely transformed her from being merely cute into something incomprehensible. It lit her eyes and brightened her cheeks and made her hair dance in a way that clawed at him somehow. She radiated light when she laughed, and her smile afterward held glimmers of the same. And from then on, he couldn’t not notice her. It was as if a magnet had suddenly been held up and something, somewhere between the pit of his stomach and the beating of his heart, had caught fire and been tugged toward it. How he’d stayed in place by the golf cart was a mystery, but he was grateful for it.
He was usually a man of calm and control, and this tiny, strange, confusing photographer was not going to make him a man of impulses and instinct. Not to mention the fact that this was one week of wedding madness, and he was not about to become one of those guys who took it as an opportunity for a free hookup.
That wasn’t him.
She started to get into the cart when her assistant cleared her throat, hands on her hips, tilting her head so that the chopsticks she wore in her two-toned chocolate-and-maroon hair looked ready to puncture her shoulders. “Uh, boss? You forgetting something?” the assistant called.
Mal—he thought that was her name, at least—turned in confusion. “Huh?”
Her assistant, dragging her stuff to a pile, pointed at a lone suitcase.
Mal’s brows snapped down. “Shasta,” she hissed, marching toward it.
Hunter looked at the other assistant, who was about five feet from him now, getting into Lucas’s cart. “What did she say?” he asked.
He grinned, loosening his tie. “Mal makes up her own swear words. You get used to it.”
Hunter opened his mouth to respond, then thought better of it. He sat down in his own cart and waited for the other girls to decide who was going to ride and who was going to stay. Meanwhile, he kept an eye on Mal. She only had the one suitcase, which was absurdly small compared with everyone else’s. He’d seen what the other girls had brought, and he’d seen what his sister packed for trips of this length. There couldn’t be much in Mal’s suitcase except for bare essentials, and she had been ready to forget it.
This was the photographer he’d been convinced to hire for the resort? He hoped she was far more organized in other respects than she was with her own stuff.
Lucas grinned at Mal as she came back, and he threw an arm around her shoulder as she sat next to him. Pulling her in tight against his shoulder, he said something that made her roll her eyes, but she smiled and didn’t push him away.
Something about that made Hunter frown. He didn’t know Jenna’s brother well, but he seemed like a good guy. That didn’t explain why he was so familiar with Mal, or why he’d called her a heifer, and that set Hunter’s teeth on edge.
“Ready to go?” Bethany asked in a too-chipper voice as she sat beside him. “Oh . . . are you supposed to hold the steering wheel that tight?”
Hunter looked down and saw that his knuckles had gone white. “Precautionary,” he said as he forced them to relax. “Brakes don’t always work.”
Bethany nodded, eyes wide, not intelligent enough to know he was lying.
He exhaled and shook himself, then turned on the cart and followed the trail Tom had taken, frustrated by the sudden tension in his chest. That wasn’t a good sign.
They caught up to Tom quickly, and Lucas slid up beside him, joking loudly with the people in his cart and making them laugh just as loudly. Above all of them, he heard her laugh, and it jolted his senses.
Tom, Jenna, and Caroline got out of their cart as Tom talked about the house in front of them. It was one of Hunter’s favorites, which was why he had given it to Tom and his family for their regular visits. No one else stayed there but the Yardleys, and it was empty for the moment. Tom’s parents and siblings were arriving in a few hours, so this brief window was the only time they would be able to see it.
He had to admit, though he had seen this house so often over the years, he was still impressed with it. Its view was one of the best from any of the houses around the resort, and the layout was one of the most natural he’d ever seen. The architect who had designed it was retired now, but he still consulted with Hunter and his family over new projects and renovations as a favor. And because he now had the prime piece of property he’d always wanted on the other side of the lake.
Tom was saying something now, and everybody had gathered around to listen. Tom had that effect on people. It explained why he was so good as a CEO; the business world was falling to its knees for him.
The group moved like an awkward museum tour group around the house toward the vista. Hunter hung back and walked slowly, hands in his pockets, letting everyone else see what he had already memorized.
“I thought they said we were going to a resort,” he heard Alexis whisper to Bethany.
“I know, right?” Bethany whispered, her accent a bizarre twist of Valley girl meets southern belle. “All they’ve got here is . . . nature.”
“Yeah. Is there always so much wood?”
A faint snort behind him echoed the thoughts in his head perfectly. He glanced behind him to see Mal shaking her head as she shifted around, camera raised. If she moved too far to her left, she would—
She lost her footing, and he heard her small gasp.
He lunged for her and seized her arm hard, pulling her back over to safety. He should tell her that the ground near the edge of the ravine wasn’t as firm as it looked. He should tell her that it had rained last night, so it was going to be slicker than normal. He should tell her . . . something.
She exhaled heavily and flashed him a grin. “Thanks for that. Guess I should watch my footing, huh?”
He swallowed roughly and let go of her arm as if he’d been burned. “Yeah,” he managed, and shifted away to collect what remained of his thoughts.
How had he known she was going to do that? How had he been moving before she’d actually slipped? Why . . . why was getting to her so important even though he didn’t know a thing about her?
He heard the camera clicking behind him, and it might as well have been the beat of his heart.
This was not good.