Love Out of Focus Read online

  The problem was that she had nothing left to do. Taryn and Dan were editing everything, and she’d only be in the way, looking over their shoulders.

  A faint rumbling of thunder gave her pause. The storm would make for an excellent addition to her resort repertoire. She imagined some of the vistas and views she had seen so far, and the idea of catching them again with the clouds and the rain … It could be brilliant.

  In a strange twist of fate, at that moment her phone buzzed, alerting her that Hunter had texted her.

  Don’t go out today, okay? Really slick and more rain on the way. I’m dealing with resort stuff, but I’ll come by later and pick you up.

  Mal didn’t think that required a response from her. Despite what Hunter thought, she had a job to do, and she’d been out in far worse weather than this for a shoot. She texted Taryn her plan and gave her an estimated time she should be back so they could edit her shots together. Then she tossed her phone onto the couch and hurried to get her boots and coat. This was a perfect opportunity for her, and no overprotective resort owner was going to ruin that.

  Hunter finished the rounds at the few houses that tended to have trouble when it rained, checked in with the grounds crew to see whether there was any trouble with landslides or downed trees, and fielded four phone calls from Tom regarding Jenna’s worries about the wedding on Saturday. He repeatedly assured his friend that everything would be fine in two days. The forecast showed things clearing up that evening, and nothing else coming until the next week.

  He prayed the forecast was accurate.

  He drove down to Mal’s cottage, wanting to see her, hoping they could grab lunch and generally wanting to be with her. The next few days were going to be crazy, with the wedding on Saturday and rehearsals and everything tomorrow … It might be the only day they would actually get to spend time together.

  And then what?

  He didn’t want to think about what came next. How could he explain to her what she made him feel and how deeply he felt it? After less than a week? It was certifiably crazy, and he knew it.

  It didn’t change the fact that it was the truth.

  He’d never made plans regarding his personal life; he was too busy with his professional life. Everything else was irrelevant. But now … he had plans—or the dream of plans. There were so many things he wanted to do and see with Mal, so many ideas constantly swirling in his head, and nothing seemed impossible.

  It would have absolutely terrified him if he weren’t so delighted about it.

  There were no lights on at the house, which was unusual. It was still raining and pretty dark despite being almost one o’clock. He knocked several times and saw no movement from inside. He pulled out his phone and texted her quickly, waited a few minutes, and frowned again. She was usually quick with her responses. She was practically married to that phone; it enabled her to communicate with her assistants, mark the locations she had photographed recently, and keep her calendar of tasks and contracts on hand.

  If she wasn’t there, she was probably with Taryn and Dan.

  He rushed back to the truck, brushing the water from his sleeves and rubbing at his hair. He would be soaked through if he spent too much time out there; his jacket might be waterproof, but it was not deluge-proof. Rainy days at Lake Lure were one of his least favorite things.

  He pulled out his phone again and called Taryn.

  “Taryn Chase, artistic goddess and creative genius extraordinaire, how might I serve you?”

  Hunter looked at his phone for a second, shaking his head. He would never understand that one. “Taryn, it’s Hunter. Is Mal there?”

  “Hunter?” she squawked. “How did you get my number? Shut up, Dan, and watch the red eye. You just made that kid look like a demon.”

  Hunter sighed and looked up at the ceiling of his car. “Taryn. Mal.”

  “Right, yeah. Sorry, boss man. Um … Mal. Not here.”

  He frowned. “Not there? Where is she?”

  “Not with you, I take it?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Right. You wouldn’t be calling if she was. Well, she must still be out on the shoot, then.”

  Hunter’s ears perked up at that. “On the what, now?”

  She must have caught the sharpness in his tone, because she slipped on whatever she was saying and stopped. “Um … Mal said she was going out for a shoot? You can catch amazing things in a rainstorm, particularly with the views you’ve got here.”

  He growled and gripped his phone more tightly. “I specifically told her not to go out today!”

  There was complete silence on the other end. Then, very weakly, Taryn squeaked, “I suppose now would not be the time to tell you that Mal doesn’t like being told what to do?”

  Hunter hissed and brought his phone down, tempted to throw it out the window, but somehow managed to find some semblance of control. He returned the phone to his ear. “Do you know where she went?” he asked, his teeth grinding so hard his ears hurt.

  “No,” Taryn said apologetically. “But I’m willing to bet it’s a place she’s already been. Days like today, you don’t take chances. You go where you know you’ll win.”

  Hunter hung up the phone, tossed it onto the seat next to him, and sped off up the road he had just come down.

  If Mal wanted to play with fire, she had picked the right starter. This was going to get ugly, and while he was absolutely crazy about her, this particular brand of crazy had limits. Ignoring his text about safety up here was definitely pushing those limits.

  Knowing Mal, she was not properly dressed for this weather, wandering where there weren’t paths, and only concerned about getting the perfect shot. He had a decently good idea of where she might have gone.

  He drove toward the first area he had taken her to for a sunrise shoot. It had an incomparable view, and there were several places along the way she could have stopped for quality shots to distract her.

  When he got to the point where he’d almost run her over that first morning, he watched more carefully. Sure enough, two curves later, there she was, drenched and trudging through the trees, smiling and looking for all the world as if she were in her element.

  He screeched to a stop, threw the truck into park, and clambered out, slamming the door behind him. Mal turned to face him, her hair in two braids, though several strands clung to her cheeks. She wore a black track jacket over a V-neck shirt, jeans, and boots, so she wasn’t a complete idiot, which was comforting. Or at least it would be when he could feel comforted about anything.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he barked as he marched toward her, stopping at the edge of the road and looking up at her on the hill.

  Her brows rose at his tone but then snapped down again. “I am doing my job.”

  The flatness and defiance in her voice irked him. “I told you not to go out today,” he said, trying to moderate his tone. “It’s too dangerous, and—”

  “Yeah, you told me,” Mal interrupted, raising her voice. “Did I respond? Fun fact, Hunter: I do not like being told what to do.”

  Hunter felt a growl well up in his chest. “I don’t care what you like or don’t like, Mallory. You don’t know the area, and it’s dangerous in this weather. When I told you not to go out, I wasn’t doing it because you might get your hair wet. You could get seriously hurt.”

  “I don’t need you to look out for me!” she cried, flinging her arm, causing her feet to slide.

  Hunter jerked anxiously. “Are you kidding me?” he yelled. “Mal, it is torrential out here, and it looks like you’ve been slipping and sliding all day! Your boots are covered in mud! Do you have any idea how easy it would be for you to go tumbling down a ravine with no one knowing where to find you?”

  “Oh, come on, the chances of that are—”

  “Is your phone on you?” he interrupted, hands on his hips.

  She opened her mouth, then scowled. “No, it’s at the cottage. Probably on the couch.”

  �
��You never go anywhere on this resort without your phone, you hear me?” he ordered, his voice rising. “What if you had gotten lost or hurt or something went wrong?”

  Mal groaned up at the sky. “You are such a freaking worrier, you know that? Why do you even care?”

  “Stop arguing!” he bellowed, growing irrational in his anger. “Get in the truck!”

  She raised a brow. “No.”

  “What?”

  “I am a photographer, Hunter.” She hefted her camera for emphasis. “This is what I do and who I am. And no overprotective, bossy, nosy resort owner is going to stop me from doing that.”

  Hunter felt his lip curl in a snarl and pointed one finger at the truck. “Stop being stubborn and stupid and get in the truck, Mallory!”

  “You are ridiculous!” she screeched. “I can’t believe you have a problem with this. You know what this means to me!”

  She was digging in more and more, he could tell, but he was not going to bend on this one. “Get in the truck!” he bellowed. “If you won’t get in on your own, I will pick you up and force you in myself.”

  Mal snorted and folded her arms, looking at him. “Right.”

  “Try me.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, then exhaled with all the dramatics of a moody teenager and marched over to the truck. Hunter went to his side and got in, waited for her to do the same, and then started driving again.

  There was utter silence in the truck for a while; he was gripping the wheel so tightly it would probably be permanently dented, and Mal was looking out the window, arms and legs crossed, as far away from him as humanly possible. He could have sworn steam was coming off both of them with their mutual fury.

  Mal shivered, and he glanced over to see her shaking, tucking her arms and legs more tightly against her. Silently, he reached forward, turned the heat up, and turned the vent toward her.

  She looked toward him slightly and muttered, “You’re going the wrong way.”

  “I’m not taking you back,” he told her, keeping his eyes focused on the road, trying not to wince every time the wheels slid on the road. He was going to have to talk to someone about the road conditions.

  “What?” she cried, her legs coming uncrossed.

  “My place is closer, and I can keep an eye on you there.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” she spat.

  “Tough.”

  She sat back heavily against the seat. “I’m drenched,” she said. “I need clothes to change into.”

  “Got it at the house,” he clipped.

  “From all your other women you’ve dragged up there?” she snapped, trying to level him with a glare.

  He spared her one brief disbelieving look. “Really, Mallory?”

  She pushed a dripping lock of dark hair behind her ear. “Sorry,” she said, managing not to sound petulant or sarcastic.

  And like that, his fury was banked down, and he could breathe again. He was still stinging, and fear prickled at his heart, but at least he was rational once more. “We’re almost there,” he murmured softly.

  She nodded once.

  Hunter exhaled slowly and prayed there would be something of their relationship to salvage after this.

  They pulled up to the house, and Hunter found himself holding his breath as Mal saw it for the first time. She stared wide eyed for a long moment, then looked at him. “Really?” she said with a hint of irony.

  He tried not to smile. “What?”

  She scoffed and propped her feet up on his dashboard, having somehow removed the muddied boots without him knowing. “It’s … little.”

  He smirked. “Just the entrance. It’s built into the mountainside. You can’t see the whole thing from this side. You need to see the back or the side. In fact, you probably already have.”

  She looked at him, curious. “How’s that?”

  He leaned his head back and listened to the rain hitting the truck for a moment. “Down on the shore, where the lodge is? Have you seen the house up high with the back wall of windows?”

  “Yeah,” she replied, almost sighing. “I’ve never lusted after a house before, but that one …” She trailed off, and her hand trembled as she put it on the armrest and turned to him. “Are you saying this is that house?”

  He laughed and groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “You lusted after my house? Oh, that’s great …”

  “Hunter,” Mal said in a strained voice, her body practically coiled. “Can we go in?”

  He rolled his head on the headrest to look at her. “You think I brought you up here to sit in my truck?”

  She suddenly looked very small. “It would be the perfect punishment.”

  He watched her for a moment. “Well, I’m not the torture kind of guy, sweetie. So yeah, we’ll go in. And I’ll make you lunch, and then you can fall asleep on my couch in front of the fire. But there’s something I think you’ll want to do first.”

  She looked wary but interested. “Oh yeah?”

  He nodded slowly. “You’ll need your boots.”

  She tucked her feet back in them, then looked at him again.

  He hid a smile, the tension in his chest easing. They would be all right. “I don’t want to deprive you of your photographic opportunities, but you have to be safe. The outdoor fireplace is down those stairs, and there is a perfect vantage point to view the lake. Take what you need, and we’ll go in after that.”

  Her mouth popped open with an audible sound. “Are you serious?” she squeaked.

  “I am.”

  She stared at him in awe. “Really?”

  He laughed once. “We’re not going to get wetter than we already are. Yeah, go take your pictures, and if the weather clears while we’re up here, I’ll take you wherever you need to go for more of them. But only if it clears. Understood?”

  She nodded quickly, and then she was out of the truck, racing toward the stairs he had indicated.

  He sighed and shook his head, then followed. The things he would do for this woman amazed him—like driving around the resort in the middle of a torrential downpour, screaming at her like a deranged father, and hauling her up here as if she were grounded for life. For someone who was known for being cool and calm and controlled, he was having quite the emotional awakening. If he didn’t go completely insane because of her, it would be a miracle.

  She tossed one hesitant smile back at him as he watched her, and it made his entire being lurch. And he suspected it always would.

  Chapter 12

  “Don’t get drool on my floor. The cleaning service doesn’t come until next week.”

  Mal heard Hunter’s jab, but she couldn’t manage to close her mouth as she took in the grand spectacle and sheer awesomeness of his house. He held her arm steady as she struggled to take off her muddy boots, mostly because she was too busy gawking and craning her neck to see up as high as she could. He was right; the house wasn’t little at all. It was huge.

  He sighed, still holding on to her arm. “I’m not going to get you to change first before I show you around, am I?”

  Mal grinned at him. “No way, pal.”

  His smile turned quizzical, and her stomach fluttered. He shook his head and released her arm. “All right, come on.”

  He led her around to the stairs, which were a gorgeous hardwood. She craned her neck up to see where they led but couldn’t get a glimpse. He took her down a hallway toward the far side of the house, the floor beneath her feet perfectly smooth and polished wood that had a dark, almost cherry stain, and her damp socks slid none too gracefully along them. She traced the walls aimlessly with her fingers for a balance, her pulse still racing with the excitement of being here—in Hunter’s house. She swallowed a lump in her throat and turned her gaze ahead, only to gasp once more.

  He’d brought her to the dining room, which was large and open and had glass windows from floor to ceiling on two sides.

  “Dining room,” he said unnecessarily, gesturing with one hand. “Do
ors lead out to the outdoor grill and fire pit you saw before.”

  She went to the windows, tempted to put her hands and face on them like a kid at a candy store. The view was spectacular. She had known that from the pictures he’d allowed her before they’d come in. But to live here and see it all the time? Over a bowl of Raisin Bran? That was unreal.

  He stepped back and pushed a door open behind him. “Kitchen, a bit much, but we like food, so we went all out.”

  Mal turned and poked her head in. He wasn’t kidding. It was a restaurant-quality stainless-steel kitchen with state-of-the-art appliances. Eight chefs could fit in there, no problem.

  “Who cooks?” she asked him, tilting her head.

  “Me. And Mom and Dad and Uncle Sam … We all do, but when we’re all here, we hire someone to come in.”

  “Uh-huh,” she murmured in disbelief, turning to go back down the hallway. Really, she was putting on a show for him. She was ridiculously impressed with this place. It was just the right mix of rustic and modern, well furnished and well maintained without reeking of excess, and the place even smelled like Hunter. Warm. Rustic. Clean. With that barest hint of all-natural earthiness that somehow soothed and scorched her all at once.

  Hunter stepped around her and opened another door they had passed before. “Office,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.

  She peeked in and smiled. One half of the room was certainly an office; the other half had a couch that probably folded out, and those killer tall windows with the perfect view. And a balcony.

  She inclined her head toward it. “For when you’re lost in thought?” she asked.

  He shrugged with a small smile. “Fresh air is good for thought, don’t you think?”

  “And a couch for naps?”

  “A good nap does wonders for me.”

  She snickered and let him pull her back out.

  “One more,” he told her, “then we go upstairs, and you get dry.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  He laced his fingers through hers, and she could feel him holding his breath. Then suddenly they were in the massive great room, which was open to the second story and had those grand windows covering most of the two external walls. The same wood floor throughout the house was most prominently displayed here, and the third wall was entirely made of stone with an expanded natural fireplace at the base.