Love Out of Focus Read online

  Part of her fluttered with flattery; the other part filled with dread. This was going to be trouble; she could feel it.

  He was trouble.

  Chapter 6

  Hunter was waiting outside the Hen House before dawn the next morning. He’d decided to forgo the beanie this time, but everything else was the same. He’d prepared something special for the sunrise shoot for Mal, but he’d probably gone too far. He was way too involved and had too much riding on her reaction. He was probably freaking her out more than anything, and he was almost freaking himself out in the process. He’d never felt anything like this so fast. He rarely felt like this at all.

  Actually, he might never have felt like this before.

  All he knew was he needed to be around her, and he needed to be the normal kind of guy that she wanted. He could be normal. He was normal compared to everybody else here, but what did that actually mean? What he needed was time, and unfortunately, there wasn’t a lot of that to go around in this situation. Every second counted.

  The lower door of the house opened, and Mal appeared, wearing the same coat from the day before, but this time in jeans and a warm hat as well as gloves and boots. She still wore both cameras and had her satchel but no thermos. She didn’t look as if she’d slept well.

  She saw him quickly and did not have much of a reaction. She simply stared at him for a long moment, as if waiting for him to move.

  “No cocoa today?” he asked, wondering why she was so far away. Maybe he was freaking her out. She’d called him intense yesterday, and yes, perhaps he had been come on too strong, but his feelings were extreme, and he couldn’t figure out how to manage that.

  She wavered. “I barely touched mine yesterday, so it seemed stupid to bring more.” She lifted a boot to rub it against her other leg. “So you really did plan out today’s shoot, huh? I thought you were just saying that.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t usually just say things.”

  She nodded once. “Good to know. Before I ask about that, is there any reason I should be creeped out by you? And I’m not just saying this, Hunter. I’m being completely serious. I don’t know anything about you except what Tom said the other night and what you said yesterday. I haven’t asked about you because I’m not nosy, but you paying attention to me like this in such a secluded place …” She looked at him helplessly. “I’m being honest here. Open. Cards on the table. Should I be creeped out by you?”

  He was taken aback. She had been so carefree and full of banter yesterday, yet this morning she was quiet and nervous. “Mal, do I make you uncomfortable?”

  “Yes,” she said simply.

  “In a good way or a bad way?” he asked, trying to lighten things a little.

  Still cautious, she replied, “Both.”

  He grunted. He liked that she was unsettled around him, but only if it meant she might have feelings for him—if he didn’t screw it up, that is. He didn’t want her to be scared or worried or anything but excited to be with him.

  “I have a clean record,” he told her, keeping his voice low. “No felonies or misdemeanors, nothing that is sealed or had to be expunged. I don’t cheat, I play and fight fair, and I’m a very overprotective brother to a younger sister who taught me how to treat women. I’m spending time with you because I want to. And I want you to want to. I never want do anything that will make you uncomfortable, so you tell me if I do, all right?”

  She seemed to consider that for a moment, and he held his breath. Then she nodded. “All right.”

  He smiled as relief coursed through him. “I’m so glad you said that,” he told her in a lighter tone. “It would really have messed up my plan for the morning if I creeped you out.”

  Finally, she smiled a little. “What did you have in mind?”

  He shoved his hands into his hoodie’s pockets. “What would you think about doing a shoot on the lake?”

  She looked surprised. “What, like in a boat?”

  He nodded. “I could take you out to some good spots, show you the whole lake, maybe spark some ideas for future shoots?”

  Her smile grew, and his chest tightened. “That sounds awesome. Lead the way.”

  He wanted to smile again, but he held it back. He nodded his head toward the road. “Come on. I docked the boat not far from here.”

  She fell into step beside him, looking around at the trees and the sky as if they were new and fascinating. What did she see that he was missing?

  “How was last night?” he asked, suddenly needing to hear her speak. “Any better?”

  She groaned dramatically. “No! It was worse. Brittany and Bethany wanted to relive college dance team days with Jenna, and Alexis joined in, because she ‘danced in high school,’” she used finger quotes and actually did a fair impression of Alexis, from what he knew.

  He snickered and looked down at her. “What did they do?”

  She returned his gaze with a deadpan look. “They choreographed a dance to ‘Call Me Maybe.’ And incorporated singing into it. And they made Grace record it. It’s going viral when the wedding is over.”

  Hunter stifled a laugh, fighting the urge to burst out laughing loudly. “But was it good?” he asked.

  She shrugged, expression still carefully blank. “Sure. I mean, they’re all very athletic and talented. Bethany is actually a Tennessee Titans cheerleader, so she’s really good. Brittany teaches some sort of dance fitness class I don’t understand, which keeps her in shape. But twenty-seven times through that song, not counting when it was just parts, and with them trying to get Alexis up to par … Caroline and I were dying.”

  “What about Sophie?” he asked as the road opened up to the docking area.

  “Sophie doesn’t have facial expressions,” she said with a sniff reminiscent of the Sophie’s own mannerism. “We have no idea what she thought.”

  He chuckled. “Well, at least you have Caroline, right?”

  She tilted her head in consideration. “Yeah, that’s true. She played soccer at Tennessee while Jenna was on the dance team there. Honestly, my cousins aren’t that bad, and Grace is okay. But the others …” She shuddered, then caught sight of the boat. “That’s the boat?”

  He bit back a grin. The speedboat was technically the property of the resort, but he could use it whenever he wanted, and it was brand new. He had taken it out a few days ago for a test drive and loved it, so why not give it another try now?

  “That’s the boat,” he said proudly, going out onto the dock.

  Mal didn’t follow. “I was picturing more of a rowboat.”

  He looked between her and the boat, then raised a brow. “Would you prefer the rowboat? I can drag one of those out if you want.”

  She was on the dock in half a second. “Nope, this is fine. Where’d you get it?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “I borrowed it.”

  She gave him a look, but said nothing.

  He shook his head, smiling to himself, and got into the boat. “Stop judging me, Mal.”

  She smiled back and held her hands up. “Not judging. You poor, poor, very rich man.”

  He rolled his eyes and held out his hands for her. “Come on, smarty-pants.”

  She handed him her cameras and bag, which he promptly set on the driver’s seat, then held his hands back out for her.

  She surprised him by not taking his hands, but grabbing his upper arms instead. Before she could hop in on her own, he reached for her waist and lifted her. She laughed and gave him a funny look. He just looked at her, hands still on her waist.

  “You’re so tiny,” he murmured, shaking his head.

  She shrugged, her hands still on his arms. “Well, despite my uncle’s stature, my dad was a jockey, so that started me out on the right foot.”

  “I like that you’re small,” he murmured, wanting to push a lock of her hair behind her ear but unable to move his hands. “It’s been added to an ever-growing list of things I like about you.”

  Her mouth opened, as if she
were going to ask a question, but she stopped, exhaled, and looked at him. The question was still in her eyes, but he was afraid to know what it was.

  He forced himself to step back. He cleared his throat, then smiled. “All righty, Miss Photographer. Be prepared for a spectacle.”

  She laughed, all tension gone, and moved to sit on a bench nearby. “Don’t hype it up if you can’t deliver, Mr… . What is your last name, anyway?”

  He turned to look at her. “McIntyre. C. Hunter McIntyre, at your service,” he added, bowing slightly.

  “What’s the C for?”

  He made a face. “Carlow.”

  She clamped her lips together.

  “Go ahead,” he dared. “Laugh. But it’s for my grandfather, and he was really something.”

  She smiled, still biting her lip. “I’m sure he was. He would have to be to pass that name down.”

  Hunter made a face and went to the other bench to pull out the blankets he’d brought. “Okay, Miss Hudson, what’s your middle name?” he taunted, making a show of tucking a blanket around her.

  She watched him with amusement. “Take a guess. Starts with an S.”

  He pretended to think, knowing he would most likely never get it. “Seraphina.”

  She rolled her eyes and pushed at him. He laughed and went to get his last surprise.

  “Tell me,” he said, going to the front of the boat. “I’m only going to guess ones that are out there.”

  “Shannon,” she finally said quietly. “She was my mom’s favorite cousin. She died in a tractor accident at sixteen.”

  He looked at her for a long moment. “It’s pretty. Suits you.”

  She ducked her head for a minute, smiling, then looked up again with a teasing half smile. “Thanks, Carlow.”

  He laughed softly, shaking his head. “And to think, I’m being nice to you,” he grumbled playfully, bringing her a paper cup with a lid and sleeve.

  She took it with a surprised look. “What’s this?”

  “Cocoa.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and then one side slowly curved. “Seriously?”

  He shrugged in what he hoped was a nonchalant way. “It’s cold, and you like cocoa. It’s the least I can do for creeping you out.”

  She flashed him a grin and held the cup with both hands, bringing it closer to her face. “Consider me totally and officially uncreeped out.”

  Pumping a fist exuberantly, he whispered, “Yes,” which made her laugh. If only she knew that his enthusiasm wasn’t an act. He winked at her, then sat at the wheel and started the boat. “Okay, we gotta go or we’ll miss the sun.”

  He drove her out to the middle of the lake and stayed far enough away from the houses to avoid disturbing anyone. A few of the guests and locals were out fishing, and he waved to them. He found himself talking to Mal a lot as she was taking pictures of this and that. He talked about his summers at the lake as a kid, fishing with his grandfather, and when he first started taking part in the resort responsibilities … as a golf cart driver. She gave him a hard time about that, but she seemed to enjoy hearing his stories. He showed her the house that had been his grandfather’s, the one where all the best memories had been made. It wasn’t part of the resort, technically; it had been deeded over to a local family per his grandfather’s will, but they were practically his own family.

  They drove all around the lake, seeing the park and the hotel, the older homes that had been there for ages, and some of the newer, more modern places. She was particularly interested in the ruins and asked whether there was a good story to go along with them.

  “If there is, I don’t know it,” he said with a laugh, catching her disappointed look. “But it didn’t stop us from pretending all sorts of things. My cousins, my sister, and I played for hours on those things. Never told the grown-ups. We can come back to that later if you want. In the truck.”

  “I’d like that,” she told him, smiling softly in a way that made him wish someone else were driving the boat. Then her attention was caught by something else, and she brightened. “Oh, the sun’s coming up! Turn the boat.”

  He did as she asked and slowed the motor to still the water around them. There was hardly any wind today, so the surface of the lake was still, with just a faint hint of fog. The sky was perfectly clear, and if things stayed just as they were, she would get some amazing shots.

  He’d looked up her work again the night before, having forgotten what his publicity manager had shown him back when the contracts were drawn up. He’d wanted to see her work again now that he knew her, and he was beyond impressed. Tom, Jenna, and his team had assured him that Mal was a brilliant artist who could help them out, and now he could see what all the fuss was about. Somehow, she took something simple and made it extraordinary.

  What could she do with something already exquisite?

  She pushed the blanket aside and started snapping, turning her body so she was more kneeling on the bench than anything else. She was completely silent, switching between cameras every now and then, and he could see they had different lenses, though what each was he couldn’t tell. She leaned over the edge of the boat, and he twitched with the urge to go and hold her heels.

  There were no sounds but the clicking of her camera and the water softly hitting the side of the boat. Occasionally, a bird chirped here or there, or a fish would flip the surface of the water, but other than that, it was completely silent. And he loved it. He could have sat like that for ages, watching her work, seeing the concentration on her face, her thought process almost written across her features. He wanted to be able to translate that, to know what she was going to do before she did it.

  Just then, the sun peeked over the ridge, and she snapped pictures rapidly, again leaning near the surface of the water. This time, he did get up and went over to keep her from toppling overboard.

  “Thanks,” she said softly, not stopping anything.

  He only squeezed her ankles in response.

  After a moment, she turned. “Can we go over by that cove you showed me before?”

  “Of course,” he said, willing to drive the boat to France if she asked. Actually, he liked that idea a lot—not driving this boat to France, but taking her there. That idea certainly had merit. He shook the thought away and revved the engines to take them where she asked. After that, they only went to one more spot before she said she was ready to head back in.

  “Get everything you wanted?” he asked.

  She beamed at him as she settled back in and put the blanket over her. “Nope.”

  He raised a brow and turned to see her better. “No? Why not?”

  She lay down on the bench and shrugged. “I never get everything I want. It’s not possible because I want to catch it all. Like I said yesterday, every sunrise is different. Someday, maybe I’ll catch that magic moment I’m looking for, and maybe I did today. I won’t know till I get in and look at them.”

  He watched her for a long moment, and she watched him. Then he leaned forward and asked, “But did you get enough?”

  She smiled again. “Yeah. More than enough. Thanks, Hunter.”

  The softness of her voice did something to his legs and his chest, and he inhaled sharply, forcing a smile in place. “Don’t thank me, Mal. I just wanted to drive this boat.”

  She smirked. “Uh-huh. Boys and their toys.”

  He chuckled, then glanced back again. “Why are you nicer in the mornings?” he asked, genuinely curious.

  “Am I?” she asked, coming up on an elbow.

  He gave her a nod. “Yesterday you were sweet as pie in the morning, then bit my head off in the afternoon.”

  “Yesterday you lied to me,” she pointed out.

  He opened his mouth to argue the point yet again when she overrode. “Okay, fine, you withheld certain information.”

  He would give her that one.

  “My point is,” he said with a satisfied smile, “you are nice again this morning. I’m wondering if you are going to be
mean to me later.”

  She pursed her lips, and her eyes narrowed. “Are you withholding more information?”

  Was he ever. But he didn’t think she wanted to know about his feelings yet. He shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

  That made her smile. “When can we do the full resort tour and photo shoot?”

  “Today.”

  “Really?” she asked, sitting up and folding her hands in front of her.

  He nodded. “Yeah. Today works. You’ve got fittings today, right?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, yes. You do too, I think.”

  He winced. “Touché. But it’s not tuxes, just suits. So that’s nice.”

  “You don’t like tuxes?”

  He mock shuddered. “Hate them. It’s why I hate black-tie affairs and only go if I have to.”

  She grinned and rubbed the back of her neck. “Well, hurrah for no tuxes, then. I hate taking pictures of crabby people.”

  “I would not be crabby on Tom’s wedding day.”

  She raised a daring brow. “If you were in a tux and partnered with Sophie?”

  That made him wince again, with great dramatics, and she giggled. “Thankfully, we will never have to know,” he replied, shaking his head. “I’m in a suit and paired with Caroline. I think, except for Tom, I win.”

  Mal nodded, grinning. “I think you do.” She wrinkled up her nose and looked at the approaching shore. “Do I have to go back to the Hen House? It’s not only dress fittings; its makeup tests too. Why do they need pictures of that?”

  Hunter laughed and slowed the boat as he neared the dock. “Why do they need any of this? You could always pretend to take pictures …”

  “Now there’s an idea,” she mused.

  He shook his head and docked the boat carefully. “Well, you text me if you need saving. I’ll come up with something.” He hopped out and tied the boat.

  Mal stood up and gave him a calculating look. “I don’t have your number,” she said.