Chapter 7

Mal was going to shoot somebody, as soon as she found a gun. This was, without a doubt, the longest morning of her entire life. Despite its pleasant start, the subsequent hours had done their utmost to obliterate any good feelings that might have remained. It was a sad thing to state that the dress fittings had been the best part of the bridesmaids’ adventures thus far. Probably because all the girls had known what the dresses looked like and only got to complain about how they fit, though they were quickly adjusted to each girl’s tastes. The boysenberry one-shoulder gowns flattered everyone’s silhouettes and had enough sparkly things to calm the girly girls without offending the rest of them.

The hair and makeup tests, however . . .

“Retract the claws, kitten,” a soft southern accent calmly broke through her thoughts. Mal glanced at Caroline, who had finished her hair, makeup, and fittings ages ago and was sitting on a nearby sofa, looking as though she had been posed for a magazine shoot. Except she looked as bored as Mal felt. If it weren’t for the fact that she was looking up at Mal through her now heavily lined and false-lashed eyelids with a half curve to her mouth, she might have looked as miserable too.

“Don’t tell me you’re enjoying this,” Mal muttered as she pretended to take more pictures of Bethany and Sophie, still in their chairs with the hairdressers fussing at them. Taryn was across the room with Brittany and Alexis, wearing a plastic smile while politely pretending to take pictures of them.

Caroline chuckled softly and switched her crossed legs. “Nope. I have no idea how a girl with a pixie cut can take three hours on hair, but what do I know?” She shrugged and looked over at the window seat where Jenna was sitting, anxiously watching her friends. “Call me crazy, but I thought this was all supposed to revolve around the bride, not her bridesmaids.”

Mal followed her gaze and sighed. “Yeah . . . Are they always this mean to her?”

Caroline didn’t have to ask what she was talking about. Subtle and not-so-subtle insults had been flying back and forth ever since they arrived, from all the girls except Grace. Mal had wanted to snap back but held her tongue, feeling it was not her place. But Jenna smiled and laughed as if they had all been jokes, and her friends laughed too.

It wasn’t funny, and it had to hurt.

“Yep,” Caroline said. “Drives me nuts, and I’ve told Jenna they aren’t really her friends, but she won’t listen to me. She knows they’re being mean, but she doesn’t rise to it. I don’t know if that makes her sweet or stupid, but God love her, I can’t do anything about it.”

Mal hummed a noise of discontent, then looked at her cousin again. “You look great,” she said, changing the subject.

Caroline gave her an amused look. “Thanks. It’s a bit much for my taste, but it will do for Jenna. The hair I like.” She turned her head, and really, the sweeping updo was very flattering on her. Mal was convinced no one else could pull it off that well.

“The hair is awesome,” Mal assured her.

Caroline pulled out her phone and snapped a selfie, then smiled to herself as she sent it off.

“To your boyfriend?” Mal asked.

Caroline nodded, looking up at her. “Ryan. He’s in a championship tournament right now, so he couldn’t get away for the wedding. I figured I’d make him miss me a little.” She grinned mischievously.

“That should do it,” Mal agreed. “I’ll even take some shots of you for him, if you want.”

“Love that!” Caroline motioned an air high-five, and Mal responded in kind.

A fake, trilling laugh came from one of the other girls, and Mal groaned and gave Taryn a look across the room, which was returned with similar sentiments.

“What about your hair and makeup, Mal?” Caroline asked. “What are we doing for you?”

Mal gave her a dirty look, and Caroline laughed and took her hand. “Come on, chica. Just because you’re low maintenance and pull it off very well doesn’t mean we can’t gussy you up a little.”

Mal eased her hand away, smiling at her cousin’s earnestness. “No. I just work here. I’m the help, Caroline.”

Now it was Caroline who gave her the look. “Call yourself that again, and I’ll fix your face up real nice.”

Knowing Caroline, she would too.

Mal swallowed nervously. “You’re scary, you know that?”

The blinding smile was back. “Yeah, I’ve heard. And if I didn’t love my twin so much, the rest of the girls would think so too. Besides, come wedding day, you’re part of the family in more than name only. You have to dress up then.”

“I’ll figure it out when that time comes.”

“As long as you let me do it, I’m good with that.”

Normally, Mal would have shied away from that too, but Caroline had good taste and sense, and it might not be so awful to let her have her way. It would have been hard to fight her, at any rate.

Sophie was finally satisfied with her look and turned to Jenna for approval, which was immediately given, not that Sophie actually cared. And Bethany . . . Well, she just whined, but once Brittany, Alexis, and Jenna convinced her she was perfect, she suddenly loved it.

“Blessed day,” Mal groaned, capping her camera.

“Did you actually take any pictures?” Caroline muttered as she got up and came beside her.

Mal lifted a brow. “That is for me alone to know.”

Caroline smiled and scrunched Mal’s loose bun. “I’m glad you’re here. You’re like the only real person in this bunch.”

“Tom’s sisters are nice,” Mal pointed out.

Caroline shrugged. “Yeah, and I like them a lot, but they don’t hang with us, so it’s not the same.”

Just then, Grace appeared with a tray of sandwiches and brought them over to where Caroline and Mal were.

“I know the others are on some bizarre fruit-and-nuts diet or something,” she whispered, looking around conspiratorially, “but I couldn’t stand it. I asked Rosa in the kitchen to whip up something. Y’all mind turkey and cheddar?”

Did Mal mind? She’d been dying for real food, anything with more calories than she could count on her fingers and toes. Despite her stash of Nutella and Froot Loops, she felt like she was on the verge of starving all the time. She was tempted to hug Grace, but she resisted the urge, smiled, and took a sandwich.

“Bless your heart, Grace,” Caroline said heavily as she took one as well. “You always were my favorite of Jenna’s friends.”

Grace smiled and scratched self-consciously at her own updo. “I’m all about figure, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not gonna starve for it.”

“Why is the photographer eating?” Sophie said with a sniff. “We are over here. Come on, do your job.”

Mal slowly turned to face her and raised a brow, which was mirrored superiorly. “I am doing my job,” she said quietly. “And one part of that involves not passing out from hunger when I’m taking pictures of you. Don’t worry, Sophie. I have plenty of shots of you already.”

Sophie frowned in uncertainty, and Mal felt satisfied about that. No doubt Sophie hadn’t expected Mal to respond, only to obey or perhaps to fight, but Mal had dealt with tough customers in the past, and she was professional about it. Plus, there was the fact that Sophie didn’t know what shots Mal had of her, and Mal’s complete control over them had to be unsettling for a perfectionist like her.

“What about me?” Brittany asked from behind her. “You didn’t get me without any makeup, did you?”

“I’ve got the ones of you,” Taryn said in her best I’m-trying-not-to-kill-you voice. “No worries. You look great.”

“Not in that dress, I won’t,” Brittany pouted, looking in the mirror and frowning at her hair and makeup again. “I look like a pageant runner-up. Alexis, can you do my hair and makeup instead? I need a talented cosmetologist, not this mess. Are we gonna look this tacky and cheap on Saturday?”

Grace gasped from somewhere behind Mal. Taryn made a subtle choking motion with her hands behind the girls, and Mal only stared. Jenna looked embarrassed beyond belief, and her mouth worked as if she didn’t know what to say. Mal wasn’t surprised. Jenna was a nice girl. Caroline, on the other hand, cracked her knuckles, which caused Sophie to look at her in disgusted surprise.

“Jenna,” Mal said with what was hopefully a kind expression, “if you don’t mind, I have an appointment with the resort.”

Jenna looked like she wanted to cry, but she nodded. “Of course, sweetie. Go ahead. See you at dinner?”

Mal smiled tightly and nodded. “At the lodge. I’ll be there.”

“Are you going with Hunter?” Sophie asked with another look.

Every girl in the room froze and looked at Mal, their faces conveying mixtures of interest and horror. Jenna and Caroline looked surprised, and Taryn seemed terrified.

Mal shrugged and picked up her bag. “Not sure, Sophie. All I know is I’m supposed to be at the office in twenty minutes, and someone is supposed to take me to some locations they think would work. If it is Hunter, I’ll tell him you said hi.” She turned and left the room without looking at anyone else, her face absolutely flaming.

Three minutes later, she got a text from Taryn: You are my idol.

Follow-up texts soon came from her cousins. Caroline sent three thumbs-up emojis, and Jenna’s was a longer, very detailed apology that Mal did not have time or patience to actually read.

The Hen House was going to kill her, and if she had abruptly change the subject one more time to avoid living in a remake of Mean Girls, she would consider vaulting off the third-story terrace.

She was relieved to be going out to the resort to take pictures, but why did Hunter have to be the one taking her? If people suspected how much time they had been spending together the last two days and how much she was starting to like it, things could get uglier. Despite how much she hated women like Sophie, that kind of high-end clientele was influential. In order to achieve her goals, she needed them to like her—not spread rumors about her and feel resentful toward her.

Trouble with the girls aside, she could not be drawn into a fling on a business trip. Not with a powerful resort owner that had hired her, and not when she was also working for her cousin. And especially not when the man in question was the sort of guy she could easily fall for.

Not just a fling, but more.

She couldn’t do more. Not with him, and not right now.

There wasn’t anything she could do to keep Hunter from taking her today, but she could determine the tone of the day. All business. No flirty fun like the morning shoot. She needed to work, not be distracted, and no matter how gorgeous he was or how he made her feel, she would shut down all awareness of him. He would be just another client.

She could do that, right?

Something was seriously up with Mal, but for some reason, she wasn’t talking about it, and it was beginning to drive Hunter crazy. They’d been driving around in a golf cart for almost two hours now, and all he’d managed to get out of her was business. Any attempt to tease or flirt resulted in a quick shift of topic and a drop in temperature.

At this point, it was practically thirty below.

She wasn’t rude, not by any stretch, but she was formal—professional, pleasant, and yet carefully distant. He didn’t enjoy it at all, and it was going to make what was coming up more awkward.

He wanted the Mal from this morning, the one who was comfortable and charming and made his heart skitter around like a pinball machine. This Mal made him nervous and doubtful and, he would have to admit, a little insecure. He had been making plans, for heaven’s sake, and all of them involved her. Right now, he wasn’t sure any of them were going to work out.

This moody photographer with snarky responses and warm smiles was taking over his thoughts at an alarming rate. He was more than happy to let her do so, but he’d hoped his life would run smoother with her in it. Having to convince her of his sincerity and the value in trusting him every day was going to get old.

He watched her as she snapped more pictures of their newest renovated house, unable to help smiling as she muttered things to herself. He caught a few more of her made-up swear words, as Dan had called them, and made a mental note to someday ask her about them. Assuming they were ever on friendly terms again, of course.

“All right,” Mal finally said, turning to face him again. “I think that’s enough here. What next?”

He carefully turned his smile into the polite, borderline-insincere one he used on all his clients, most of his employees, and some of his associates and friends.

“There’s a small classic cottage not too far from here,” he told her, gesturing for her to lead the way back to the cart. “The manager, Ralph, thinks it might appeal to the clientele that have a more rustic taste.”

Mal made a face of consideration, then nodded. “I met Ralph, remember? And it makes sense to me. Some people want a real getaway.” She situated herself in her seat and met his eyes squarely, a hint of her smile in them.

It was the friendliest she’d been all afternoon, and he let himself warm up. “Exactly,” he said, taking his own seat. “Some people actually like ‘all this wood,’ and there are cabins we can photograph later for them.”

She smiled in earnest then, but it faded as quickly, and with it, his hope for the day. “Whatever you need,” she murmured. “Ralph said there was a lot on the resort I could use for shots and such. It just depends on what you want from me and where you want it to go.”

Hunter sighed as he drove to the cottage. “I think it would be best for you to use your own judgment on the scenic stuff, Mal. I can give you an idea of houses and property, resort details and the like, but you’re the artist.”

She looked away from him, not that she had even been looking at him, and nodded. “Sounds good.”

He groaned inwardly. This was going to be a disaster, and it was supposed to have been dramatic and maybe romantic. Maybe he should forget the whole thing. She didn’t need to know, right?

His more rational side kicked him. Of course she needed to know, and he needed to do it. She would be impossible for the rest of the week if he didn’t. She would be happier this way, ultimately, even if it was presumptuous on his part.

And it was nothing but presumption on his part.

He was nosy, interfering, overbearing, and self-serving, no matter what his good intentions were. But hopefully, that wouldn’t work against him here.

After all, it wasn’t as if she knew where to find him if this all went south.

He glanced at her as they approached the house, and her demeanor changed. She lit up, and the first genuine smile of the afternoon appeared. He bit back a grin and let the elation of victory wash over him.

“This is perfect,” she said when they stopped, not moving from her seat. “This is what I picture in a place like this.”

Hunter stared at it for a long moment. It was one of his favorite places on the resort, and not because Mal liked it. Or because it made him think of her. Or because he could picture her here.

He’d liked it before today.

But he liked it more now.

“Do you want to go inside?” he asked softly, keeping his voice conversational.

She looked at him wide eyed. “We can do that?”

He had to smile at that. “I’m the owner,” he reminded her, tilting his head. “I can get whatever keys I want. You can see inside any house you want.”

Her grin was wild as she nearly leaped from the cart, leaving him breathless.

It didn’t take Mal long to take pictures of everything. The first floor was simply a large living room and spacious, rustic kitchen. Almost the entire back wall, however, had been turned into windows, and the view was truly spectacular. While not one of the more prominent views, it was sheltered in a beautiful section of trees near a stream, and if she looked closely enough, she could catch glimpses of the lake through the woods.

“This is incredible,” Mal said to herself, but loud enough that Hunter caught it. She went to the back door to go out onto the deck, pausing to catch a shot of something she saw in the windows.

“It’s yours,” Hunter blurted out.

Mal froze, took one picture, then lowered her camera. Slowly, almost horrified, she turned to face him. “Say what now?” she asked, her voice barely controlled.

Hunter scratched the back of his neck anxiously. “Well, not yours, not like that. I’m not giving you a house, that’s . . . That would be ridiculous. But I could, if I wanted to. If you wanted . . .”

“Hunter.”

He sighed and put his hands into his pockets. “I reserved it for you. You’re staying here now.” He shrugged, his eyes never leaving hers. “I thought you’d like it.”

She blinked once, then again, and put her hands on her hips, looking down at the floor. “My stuff is already here, isn’t it?”

He winced. “Yeah. It’s in the master bedroom downstairs.”

“And what about Jenna?”

“I told her you needed more privacy and personal space for work and easier access to various resort locations, but you didn’t want to say anything to upset her.” He gave her a knowing look. “All of which is the truth, I might remind you.”

She looked up at him, and the green glint in her eyes, enhanced by her emerald top, only made her more captivating. “And who said you got to make those decisions? Seriously, Hunter? People are already talking, and your interference is going to make more of a spectacle of us than there already is.”

“So what?” he argued, coming over to her. “Mal, you were miserable over there! I just wanted you to be happy, and I know you will be more comfortable on your own.”

“Yeah, and it’s very sweet, and the house is perfect, but the fact that you knew that, that you even thought that . . .” She exhaled and rubbed at her head. “It’s too much. With everything else, it’s all too much.” She looked up at him again, her expression unreadable. “I need this to be private too. I need to not be the topic of conversation, and I need to not give Sophie or Alexis or the blonde two I can’t keep straight cause to poke me more. It’s crazy enough as it is. Can you do that, or do I need to file a restraining order?”

He wanted to laugh, but she looked completely serious.

“I’m sorry that I’ve made you uncomfortable,” he said softly. “I never meant to do that. Well, maybe a little, but only in a good way.” He gave her a hint of a smile and was relieved when she returned it. He looked at her for a long moment, then admitted, “I can’t seem to let you out of my sight. I told you yesterday that I like you, Mallory. And today I like you even more. And you’re going to have to get used to it because I have no intention of stopping anytime soon.”

Her eyes widened, and her mouth gaped for a moment. “Oh . . . ,” she finally whispered.

He took two steps closer to her. “Still want a restraining order?”

She cleared her throat briefly. “I—I plead the fifth.”

He wasn’t sure he heard her correctly, but he caught the tone of her voice. “That’s not a yes,” he pointed out, keeping his voice steady.

She nodded once, her eyes on his. “Correct.”

His heart lurched against his ribs. “So . . . no?”

“I didn’t say that.” She tilted her head, as if considering her options.

Hunter let a slow, sly grin cross his face. “Sweetheart, that’s a wide-open invitation to a guy like me.”

Mal smirked up at him. “A guy like you? What are you?”

He reached out a hand to touch hers. “Determined,” he murmured, daring her to pull away.

She inhaled slowly, once, twice, then swallowed. “One Mississippi, two Mississippi…”

He chuckled and waited, then smiled when she interlaced their fingers. “Okay. Let me show you the rest of the house.”

It didn’t take long, as the house was small, but Mal was so delighted with everything that it took twice as long as it should have. She raved about the kitchen and refused to let him bring in an employee to cook for her. He’d seen to it that the basics had been supplied for her, along with her precious Nutella and Froot Loops and a massive selection of cocoa. According to her, that was all she would need.

He paused in the kitchen, still holding her hand, the tour of the place finished. He needed to get back to Tom and the guys, and dinner was at the lodge in an hour and change. But something else needed to be said before he left, before she was apart from him and back in her own head.

“Mal,” he said quietly, stroking her hand. “I need you to stop fighting me. I need to know that the version of you I leave is the one I get back. Decide now if you are in or out, sweetheart. Because I’m not going anywhere. And with how you’re holding my hand right now, I get the feeling you’re okay with that. Am I right?”

She looked at him for a long moment. But he never felt anxious, never doubted for a second. Her hold on his hand was secure; he knew where her heart was.

The question was whether her head was willing to follow.

“Yeah,” she finally admitted, allowing a smile to curve shyly across her perfect lips. “You’re right.”

He grinned. “I know.” He brought her hand up and kissed the back of it. “See you at dinner.” He released her hand and headed for the door.

“What, you aren’t sending a car for me?” she teased, following curiously.

He half turned and gave her a look. “You said private, Mal. I can do private. In fact, I am very good at private. I may be better at private than I am at public. But you’ll have to forgive my eyes. They’ve never been very good at keeping things private.”

He winked and left the cottage, smiling at her choked laughter as he did so.