Chapter 9

Hunter was exhausted, and the ungodly hour of this sunrise shoot was brutal. Thinking of Mal, reliving her kiss over and over, had made sleep impossible, and as much as he wanted to enjoy this quiet time with her, he also really wanted to sleep.

But he wasn’t going to. He would just deal with it and catch a nap after he dropped her back off at her place. The group tour of the resort wasn’t until after lunch, so that was plenty of time.

Mal wasn’t chatty this morning, and he was grateful for that. She’d smiled shyly when he’d picked her up, but after that, nothing had been said. It was uncomfortable between them this morning, more than it had been the night before, but it was the ticklish kind of uncomfortable that made him smile—or would have made him smile if he had the energy to. Thankfully, the site for the sunrise shoot wasn’t far. All he had to do was get her there without crashing and then sit for a while until she was done.

They almost matched this morning in their hoodies and jeans, and she’d gone further by wearing a hat as well. For someone who had just rolled out of bed, she looked far too attractive like this. Something about Mal always looked good. But she wasn’t stop-dead-in-your-tracks attractive. No one would ask to take pictures of her; she wouldn’t draw comments, and people probably forgot her face if they weren’t paying attention. Maybe that was why Hunter loved looking at her so much.

He could see her.

“Come on, sleepyhead,” Mal teased from beside him. “I’ll be quick, and then you can go back to bed.”

It took him a minute to realize that they were stopped and he’d been staring out the windshield for a while. “Sorry,” he mumbled, clambering out of the truck and heading toward the site, holding his hand out for her.

Mal chuckled as she took his hand, squeezing it. “Go sit down. I’ll be right there.”

He gave her a tired smile and did so, leaning against a rock, his arms and head resting on his knees.

Either he fell asleep, or only a few moments passed—and not very many camera clicks—before there was a hand on his knee. He looked up and saw Mal shaking her head at him, smiling. He started to scoot over for her, but she gently moved his knee aside instead.

“Let me in,” she murmured, avoiding his eyes.

His eyebrows shot up as he realized what she meant, but his legs moved of their own accord as Mal situated herself between them, leaning back against his chest.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” he whispered as he nudged her head, resting his chin on her shoulder.

She laughed low in her throat. “You think after yesterday I’m supposed to be shy, Mr. You’re Going to Miss It?”

He smiled and nuzzled her ear, just enough to make her squirm. “You didn’t seem to mind.”

“Mind?” She laughed again. “The way you were staring at me, my brain was working in reverse, and then that kiss? You were right; you have got skills. That had so many Mississippis for me, you wouldn’t believe it.”

He hummed and ducked his head against her. “I’d believe it, but I blame you. You drive me crazy, and I’m not responsible for my behavior, skills or no skills.”

She tensed, then pulled his arms around her, and he was more than happy to comply.

“Either way,” she said in a carefully indifferent tone that didn’t fool him, “your pickup lines need work.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on. You had to know that was cheesy.”

He shrugged against her and held her tightly, burying his head more securely between her neck and shoulder. “Yeah. But in my experience, women like cheese.”

“This time,” she replied as she leaned more fully into him. “Now shut up. The sun is about to come up.”

Hunter didn’t move from his position and felt his breathing slow and deepen. His body relaxed fully against hers, more comfortable than he had been in years.

“You’re missing it,” Mal whispered, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

“No,” he mumbled sleepily against her. “I’m not.”

She let him doze for a while, then, as the morning began to warm, stirred and got to her feet. “Come on, let’s get back. Lots to do today.”

He grumbled and reached for her, but she only laughed and kept carefully away. She grabbed his hand and hauled him to his feet.

“Cruel woman,” he muttered, rubbing at his eyes and shoving his hands into his pockets.

She smiled and nudged him with a shoulder. “Not gonna hold my hand?”

He glared at her. “No. You’re being mean.”

She laughed and slung her camera over her shoulder as they headed back to the truck. “What are you, seven?”

He sighed and allowed himself to smile back. “If I touch you, Mal, you might not go anywhere all day. I’m feeling very possessive today.”

Her eyes widened, and she pursed her lips, then took a measured step away from him.

He nodded once, looking at the truck even as his hands fisted in his pockets. “Good idea.”

“We have got to work on your intensity,” Mal muttered, shaking her head.

Hunter opened the truck door for her, then got in on his own side. Nothing was said as they drove back down to Mal’s cottage, and Mal was fidgety. When he was more coherent and alert, he would have to talk to her about that. If she was really put off by his intensity, he could back off . . . At least he could try. He hadn’t been lying; she did drive him crazy, and he almost didn’t recognize himself.

Almost.

They pulled up to the cottage, and he threw the truck in park, glancing over at her on her side of the truck.

“This is your stop,” he said, leaning to poke her thigh with a finger.

Her lips quirked, and she looked up at him with an unreadable expression that stopped his heart. Before he could think, she reached over, slid a hand around the back of his neck, and tugged his lips to hers for a soft, thorough dismantling of every single brain cell he had. She broke off and took advantage of his stunned silence by giving him a crooked smile and a suggestive lift of her brows, then she scrambled out of the truck and went into the house.

Once sanity, sense, and sensation returned to him, he managed to put the truck into drive and get back on the road.

That little minx . . .

He shook his head. “One Mississippi, two Mississippi . . .”

It wasn’t working.

So much for sleeping.

It was two o’clock in the afternoon, and Mal was ready to come out of her skin. She should have been in complete control here, in her zone, with assistants at her side, and a multitude of amazing photo ops at her fingertips. But her fingers were twitchy, her palms were sweating, and pretty much every word being said sounded like buzzing in her ears. She had enough focus to take quality shots, but conversation and smiles were completely beyond her.

It was all the fault of that ridiculously good-looking man currently in a blazer and T-shirt with just-tight-enough stonewashed jeans. He had been staring at her all flipping day, the same smoldering, patella-pulverizing look that made her wish she were wearing a muumuu. She was grateful he was the one giving the tour and thus had to be up front and speaking most of the time. His tone was perfectly professional and controlled.

His eyes, however . . .

He’d been an attractive man before she’d started to like him, before he’d started spending sunrises with her, and certainly before they’d kissed and he’d set her world aflame. Now it was like he was the entire dessert menu at the Cheesecake Factory and she had a gift card.

“Sweet mother of Abraham Lincoln,” she hissed as her eyes clashed with his again and her face and neck flushed.

Taryn and Dan snickered, and she elbowed whoever was closest.

“Honey, if I were getting looked at like that,” Taryn said as she checked her camera screen, “I would not be standing here taking pictures.”

Mal glared at her and fumbled in her satchel for another lens as the group moved out of the house to the back patio to admire the view. This was one of the premier houses on the resort, and had some great and rich history, and the family who owned it had done a lot of work to make it both rustic and modern . . . and some other stuff that Mal had completely forgotten. But it was located above many of the others, so the view was spectacular.

If only someone would let her appreciate it.

Was this what it was going to be like all the time? She was going to die. A slow and painful and embarrassing death.

She tried to remember what Sophie had told her, that he had an ex that wanted him back, that it was all very serious, and that Mal needed to back off.

He’s getting back with his ex . . . He’s getting back with his ex . . .

Her eyes clashed with Hunter’s again, and she couldn’t remember anything that would help her calm down.

The girls headed off in one direction, the guys in another, all chatting aimlessly. Hunter had stopped his tour guide act and was talking with Caroline. Mal focused on the amazing view, wondering whether the homeowners would mind if she came back. She could only imagine how fantastic this view was at sunrise and sunset, with morning fog, with rain coming in . . . She wanted to see this view in every season and in every condition.

“Taryn, can you get a focal point shot of that tree on the ledge?” she asked, clicking away madly. “I think you could get a spectacular aspect.”

“She’s already doing that,” a distinctly non-Taryn voice murmured from behind her.

Hot and cold shocks exploded up and down her back, and she gasped at the contact on her arm. Hunter gripped her tightly, pulling her away from the patio and the view.

“What are you—?” she tried, resisting initially.

“Stop talking,” Hunter ground out.

Mal looked back toward the others, but no one paid any attention to her except Taryn and Dan, who waved. Then Caroline saw her and raised a brow.

No one tried to stop them.

“Hunter,” Mal said, trying to avoid stumbling on the walkway.

He shook his head and opened the side door to the house, moved to the glorious state-of-the-art kitchen, then tossed Mal into a pantry to one side and followed. He closed the door quickly, her arm still in his grasp.

She didn’t have time to say anything before he had her up against the wall. He took her camera off her neck, slid the satchel down her arm, and in the same motion managed to get a hand behind her ear while his thumb grazed her jaw.

And then he waited.

Mal looked up into his face, trying her level best to be mad at him. “You are ridiculous,” she scolded, her voice sounding harsh and rasping to her ears. “I thought you were going to be reserved. You said you could do that. Well, nothing about you is reserved, pal. You’re making a scene, which I specifically asked you not to do. I am going to get so much flak for this! What in the world has gotten into you?”

Hunter didn’t hear a single word. He stared at her, his gaze flicking between her lips and her eyes. She held her breath, waiting, and then he kissed her. Softly at first, just once. Then his other hand came up behind her head, and his kiss became hard, insistent, and possessive. She was unable to move, to think, to breathe . . . She was suddenly and completely attuned to him.

His lips were magical and wicked, and she had no idea how to match them, how to keep up, and she felt herself growl in impatience. He angled her face up, their difference in height more enhanced by the cramped pantry, but their forced proximity only made things hotter, more exciting, more . . . something.

He kissed her deeply, parting her lips with ease and skill, draining her of thought and any resistance she’d ever had. His hands cupped her face, fingers stroking and gripping against her cheeks. He wrung every ounce of sense and pleasure from her, kiss after drugging kiss, and soon the wall was the only thing holding her up.

When he finally eased back, her hands were gripping his lapels, and his chest was moving as rapidly and unsteadily as hers. There was some comfort in that, at least. If she was going to be completely senseless, at least he was too.

“What was that for?” she eventually gasped.

He stroked her cheek, one hand leaning against the wall above her. “After your little stunt in the truck, I haven’t thought of anything else all day. I needed to see if I imagined it.” He waited a beat. “I didn’t.”

Mal swallowed hard and slid her hands over his blazer. “Wow.”

One side of his mouth curved up. “Is that a compliment?”

“Sure,” she managed, clearing her throat. “I . . .” She had no idea what had come over her this morning; she’d only known that she had to kiss him on her own, just once, in case it never happened again. “I thought it was a one-time thing,” she admitted lamely.

His eyes flashed dangerously, and he kissed her again, slowly and maddeningly raw. She broke off with a whimpering gasp, the only noise she could make. Hunter grazed her jaw with kisses, then brushed his lips across her earlobe. She shivered, his hand moving from her face to her waist, pulling her tightly into him. Mal kept her eyes closed, though her eyelids twitched and fluttered with the rest of her.

“Nothing about this is a one-time thing,” he growled into her ear, breathless and panting a little. “Nothing.”

“Even the pantry bit?” she managed to quip, finding her voice at last.

His low laugh sent a ripple through her. “Especially the pantry bit.”

She slid her hands around his waist under his blazer and cleared her throat again. “Better make it worth my while, then. We’ve only got a few minutes, and I need something to tell the others when they find out.”

Hunter made a noise of amusement and appreciation. “Tell them to use their imaginations.”

And then, still smiling, he kissed her again.

Feeling much better about life in general, Hunter walked into the entertainment room at the lodge. It was already mostly filled, and the first group was ready to go on. He hadn’t thought that Jenna and Tom would have included the events at the resort in the schedule of their extravaganza, but when he’d shown them the calendar, they had both insisted that the live music and karaoke night be part of their package. He didn’t mind at all, and it would give the tourists and locals something to talk about, when they were finally permitted to. And he genuinely enjoyed spending time with his guests and neighbors.

Mal was on one side of the room with Taryn and Dan, giving directions. He wouldn’t distract her. Not again. She looked over at him and seemed to lose her train of thought. He smiled and inclined his head, but made no move to go toward her. He saw the flash of relief and pleasure, and she returned his smile, then went back to work as if nothing had happened. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going on between them, but he was enjoying it.

He headed to the table where the rest of the group was, ordered a drink from one of three waiters floating around, and settled in to enjoy what was destined to be an entertaining, if not downright hilarious, evening.

The first group turned out to be a folksy bluegrass ensemble, who were good, and the crowd enjoyed them. They were followed by a number of fair but fun karaoke numbers from various audience members, and then a truly stirring young man with an acoustic guitar.

Hunter saw Sophie furiously texting away on her phone during and after that one, which was a clear indication of his talent. Her father was one of the biggest names in the music industry and, while Sophie didn’t inherit his taste or his ear, she knew what he liked and looked for.

He hesitated to say anything nice about her, given her personality and the way she’d aggressively pursued him for years, but he was honest enough to admit that.

During the intermission, the wedding group mingled again and warmed up to the idea of participating. Hunter glanced at Mal, who was at the end of the table, her camera in her lap for the moment. She rolled her eyes once and folded her open cardigan more closely around her as if settling in. Taryn, meanwhile, was poring over the karaoke list, and Dan was shaking his head at her.

There was an interesting family dynamic between those three, and Hunter liked what he saw. Mal was not what he would call a people person, and she was struggling to reconnect with her family while maintaining her self-image and allowing for their eccentricities. She’d never talked to him about it, and he wasn’t sure she would, but he could see it.

He pulled out his phone and texted her quickly.

What are you singing?

She glanced at her phone briefly, then looked up directly at him, incredulous. He shrugged, and she shook her head before texting him back.

You first.

He smirked but didn’t look back at her. Instead, he looked over at the stage, where three of Jenna’s bridesmaids were singing. It was horrible. But then, they’d known it was going to be, and it was all about fun, wasn’t it?

He’d never do something this impulsive and exposing; it wasn’t in his nature. But he could appreciate the bravery it took to get up there if you were serious about it, and the lack of inhibition if you were not.

Two more acts followed—one a sweet duet from an older couple he’d seen at the resort every year for at least five years, and the other a group of guys doing a fantastic a cappella rendition of “I Will Wait.” Hunter made a note of that one, signaling to his emcee to get the necessary information from them. Talented and popular acts were always worth bringing back.

“Now what?” Jenna asked of the table. “Who’s next?”

“Not it,” Tom answered, putting a finger on his nose, which most of the group followed.

Lucas sat forward. “I think everyone in the group should do at least one number. Call it a dare.”

That was received well with hushed voices and significant looks.

Hunter looked at Tom with a raised brow, and Tom shook his head. “Hunter has a forfeit. He runs the place.”

Lucas rolled his eyes but smiled. “Fine, fine, boss man doesn’t have to. But that means we get some wings off tab.”

Hunter grunted and shook his head with a smile. “Sure, whatever you want. So long as I’m not going up there.” He flagged down the waiter and put in an order for them.

“I think Mal should go next,” Sophie said with a sneer in her voice.

Hunter’s smile faded, and he turned to look at her in disbelief. He wasn’t alone.

Sophie pretended to look surprised. “Didn’t you say the entire group? She’s part of it, right?”

Mal was wide eyed and small at her end of the table. “I don’t think—”

“And I know what she can sing,” Sophie interrupted, looking at the music list, though her eyes didn’t move across the page. “‘Alone’ by Heart.”

The entire table went silent. No one was stupid enough to mistake her real meaning, not even Bethany. Hunter fought his first urge, which was to look at Mal, and his next urge, which was to punch the table.

Caroline, sitting two seats down from him, snatched the paper back from Sophie. “Here’s an idea, Sophie. How about you go next and sing ‘Don’t Speak’ by No Doubt?”

Uneasy laughter broke out, and Mal quietly excused herself from the table, camera in hand, and moved to one side of the room, taking pictures of the Journey cover band currently onstage.

Hunter watched Mal closely, looking for the barest hint of hurt or distress in her. He never saw it. She was as calm and cool, and he was proud of that.

You okay? he texted quickly.

She glanced down at her phone, then looked over at him in surprise. She smiled, rolled her eyes, and made a small gesture as if to say Of course.

He gave her a warning look. He didn’t want her to pretend, not with him.

She huffed and looked down at her phone.

I don’t care about Sophie. And I could totally rock Alone if I wanted to.

He smiled and looked up at her again, sending her a wink, which she returned.

Someone at the microphone cleared his throat, and Hunter looked to the stage to find Lucas there. “I would like to dedicate this song to my cousin, Mallory,” he said, with a hand on his chest, looking at Mal. “I love you, and you’re the best. If this song weren’t about, you know, the sexy kind of love, this would be how I feel about you.”

That earned him three whistles from their table, and Hunter sat back with a smile. Mal was going to kill Lucas no matter what song he sang after this. What followed was a dramatic, heartfelt, and surprisingly decent rendition of Survivor’s “The Search Is Over.” Hunter suspected, looking around the room, that Lucas would have himself a fan club before the night was out.

Mal was taking pictures of the whole thing and smiling, shaking her head.

According to multiple sources, there was no explaining Lucas.

When the applause died down, Lucas spoke again. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, for an encore, I present to you a Hudson cousin special. So if my lovely sisters and cousin would join me up here . . .”

There were gasps and squeals and mutterings of murder as Jenna and Caroline went up. Mal stayed rooted in her place.

Lucas stared at her with a lifted brow. “Mallory, if you don’t get your butt up here, I will tell this entire room about that family trip to Charleston when you were seven.”

Mal’s eyes went wide. She swallowed, and handed her camera off to Dan, who was grinning gleefully. He and Taryn stood together in the back, plotting their angles.

Mal made her way up and stood by Caroline, smiling in spite of her glower at Lucas. Then Mal met Hunter’s eyes, and her shoulders dropped in defeat, which made him smile.

“This is a real treat, ladies and gents,” Lucas was saying. “This is something that has not been done in fifteen years. All our lives, we worked tirelessly on one song together, and one song only.”

All three of the girls gaped at each other.

“The Hudson cousins present . . . ‘Dancing on the Ceiling.’”

The room broke into applause, and it looked as if Lucas might not get to live very long after his stunt, but something he said to the girls made them smile. The music started, and they were off.

And they were good.

More than that, they were having fun, and soon everyone in the room was—except Sophie, who was not impressed, but nobody cared. They were up on their feet, dancing and singing along, clapping to the beat.

The cousins danced, harmonized, and seemed to know precisely what the others would do. Clearly, there had been much rehearsal of this song in their younger years, and they remembered every bit of it.

Mal came alive onstage, and he could see the years of distance between her and her cousins melting away. She moved to the beat in her place, though she was clearly not a dancer. She didn’t care, and neither did anyone else. This was a side of her he’d never seen before, and layers of Mal’s inhibitions were falling away, one by one, before his eyes.

He liked what he saw. He liked it a lot.

The song ramped up, and Lucas turned his focus to the audience, playing to their excitement and enjoyment, while Mal and the girls turned into a trio, playing off each other and having a blast.

Hunter couldn’t pay attention to the others, not even with the charm and beauty of Jenna and Caroline on display. They might have been the ones everyone else watched, but not him. There was no one but Mal, for him—Mal on the stage, Mal behind the camera, Mal drinking cocoa in the mornings . . . Mal as she was at any given time.

She was a constant surprise, and for the first time, he liked surprises.

Thunderous applause heralded the end of the song, and all the cousins were laughing hysterically.

Sophie, not to be outdone, forced Alexis onstage with her, and they butchered “Hips Don’t Lie,” raising several concerns from patrons about their blood alcohol level, though they did not have any such excuse.

Lucas saved the evening again with Reed and the rest of the guys by leading the room in “Friends in Low Places,” but Hunter only pretended to sing along. He kept looking over at Mal, now back with her assistants and taking pictures, invisible to everyone else again.

In his opinion, Mal had never looked more gorgeous than when she was laughing with her cousins onstage. And all he wanted to do was pull her onto his lap and tell her how proud he was of her and how beautiful she was. And ask her to sing for him again. But he couldn’t.

He texted her instead.

And her blush and smile were worth it.