Authors: Regina Kyle
She winced, thinking of the swimsuit models she’d shot with dangerously low-slung bikini bottoms. Or that
Vanity Fair
cover of a very pregnant—and very naked—movie star. And the parade of shirtless men she’d photographed for high fashion ads...
“Your mother and I are nothing but proud of you,
min kära flicka
.” Her father came and stood behind his wife, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve built an entire career from the ground up, just like we built this nursery.”
“We just wish you’d come home more often.” Her mother reached back to cover her husband’s hand with hers. “We miss you.”
“I miss you guys, too.” Ivy blinked back a tear. For the first time, the fallout of her lengthy absence hit her full force. Staying away from Stockton had kept the bad memories at bay. But it had kept her family at arm’s length, too. Something she needed to change ASAP. Her parents weren’t getting any younger, something her father’s heart attack had driven home. Hard. “And I promise I’ll visit at least once a month after I leave. Even if it’s only for a day or two.”
“That would be nice.” Her mother sighed, her warm, brown eyes as watery as Ivy’s. “I’m sure your brother and sisters would appreciate seeing more of you. And you’ve got a baby niece to consider now.”
“Among others.”
Ivy had almost forgotten Cade was there until he spoke up, still lounging in the doorway, a panty-moistening grin splitting his face. Her pulse went from trot to gallop, and heat spread up her neck to her face.
“It’s late,” she said, ducking her head to avoid her mother’s all-seeing, all-knowing gaze. “We should get going.”
“Thanks for dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Nelson.” Cade pushed off the door frame and held out his hand to her father, who enveloped him in a bear hug instead.
“How many times have we asked you to call us Nils and Elena?” Her mother stood, opening her arms for her hug.
“Every other week since I graduated high school,” Cade said, returning her embrace. “But old habits are hard to break.”
They sure are
, Ivy thought as she hugged her parents, said her goodbyes and followed the man she’d loved for as long as she could remember to her car.
“I
CAN
’
T
TIE
this damn thing.” Cade frowned at his reflection in the mirror. “And I don’t see why I have to wear a monkey suit in the first place.”
He swore under his breath and pulled both ends of the bow tie, unraveling it for what was probably his tenth attempt to get it right. He could wake from a dead sleep and have his PPE on in seconds, but give him a harmless little piece of silk and he was all thumbs. He adjusted the ends so one was longer than the other and started over. Cross the long over the short, bring it up through the loop, double up the short end...
“Technically, you don’t. But I never could resist a man in a tux.”
He looked from his reflection to Ivy’s and gave up on the tie. The sleeveless navy dress she wore was simple, but it hugged her curves like a Lamborghini on a switchback, ending midthigh and showing off a decent expanse of her shapely legs.
“Need some help?” she asked, taking him by the shoulders and spinning him around to face her.
“Wow, that dress...” His gaze roamed from her long neck, over the lush mounds of her breasts, down her smooth legs and back up again, and he swallowed hard. “You look stunning.”
“Thanks.” She finished off his tie with a flourish and stood back to admire her handiwork. “You clean up pretty good yourself.”
“So whose wedding is this anyway?”
“The niece of some bigwig on the school board. I’m doing it gratis to smooth things over from the whole carnival fiasco. Practically the entire town’s going to be there, including Maude and her cronies. So prepare to have your ass pinched. A lot. But try to keep your shirt on.”
He sat on the bed and reached for one of the black oxfords he’d borrowed from Gabe for the occasion. He’d drawn the line at the shiny patent-leather shoes the guy at the tuxedo rental place had tried to sell him on. Bad enough he was still in the walking cast. He wasn’t about to make himself even more uncomfortable by stuffing his one good foot into something stiff, squeaky and rented. “I’m your assistant. Aren’t you’re supposed to protect me?”
“I’ll be too busy working.” Ivy checked her lipstick in the mirror, rubbing a smudge of coral off her teeth. “Besides, you’re a big boy. You can stand up for yourself. Or are you scared of a bunch of senior citizens?”
“They may be old, but they’re feisty. And they travel in packs. Like wolves.” He double-knotted his shoelaces and shuddered. “Really horny wolves.”
She turned from the mirror and smoothed down the front of her dress. “My money’s on you. Ready to go?”
He tightened his brace under the leg of his tuxedo pants and stood. “As I’ll ever be.”
They grabbed her gear and loaded it in the used Honda Element she’d picked up when she’d gotten tired of pulling up to gigs in her father’s ancient pickup with the Grower’s Paradise logo emblazoned on the side. Cade dealt with the bulky tripod and light stands and Ivy handled the bag with the more delicate cameras and lenses. It was a routine that had become familiar in the two weeks since he’d first accompanied her to the carnival.
She still spent mornings at the nursery, waking up at 5:00 a.m. to make sure everything was stocked, tagged, trimmed and watered. Then they opened for business at nine and her mother took over. Cade had offered to help out there, too, but she’d flatly refused, saying it was bad enough he’d gotten sucked into indentured servitude as her photographer’s assistant. They’d done a number of portraits and parties together—sometimes two gigs a day—and he’d become pretty damn good at it. Like a top-notch golf caddy, he’d learned to anticipate his boss’s needs, handing Ivy the right flash before she could ask for it, or a memory card just as the one she was using filled up.
He hadn’t minded helping out. He figured the work would bring them closer together. Instead, it seemed to drive an emotional wedge between them—a wedge at least partly of his own making. The more he watched Ivy work, the more one simple, inescapable thought took hold in his brain and wouldn’t let go.
Ivy was right. She didn’t belong in Stockton. She was meant for bigger, better things. And he’d be a selfish bastard if he asked her to stay.
So he’d started pulling back, preparing himself for the time in the not so distant future when she’d pack her bags and hit the road. He’d begun stopping by the station every other day for an hour or two and hanging out with the guys a couple of nights a week. He would move back to his own apartment, just as soon as his doctor gave him the thumbs-up on climbing the stairs.
Not that he’d shared that last part of the plan with Ivy. Yet.
“Where to?” he asked when they were in the car and she’d started to back down the driveway.
“The first stop is just down the street.”
“First stop?”
“Yep. The waterfall at the other end of Leffert’s Pond.”
“Isn’t that the place where everyone went for pictures before the prom?”
“I wouldn’t know.” She looked both ways, her eyes somehow managing to skip right over him in the passenger seat, and eased the car out onto the road. “I didn’t go to prom. No one asked me.”
Way to go, Hardesty. Remind her how miserable she was here. That’ll make her run away even faster.
He shrugged and stared at the scenery rushing by outside the car window, doing his best to downplay his case of foot-in-mouth syndrome. “You didn’t miss much.”
“That’s not what I heard.” She flashed him an I-know-something-you-don’t-know grin before turning her attention back to the road. “I heard a certain quarterback and a certain cheerleader were caught with their pants down, so to speak, in the stairwell.”
“Those rumors were greatly exaggerated.” He smiled back at her. “We were only making out. And we were fully clothed at all times.”
“There’s a lot you can do with your clothes on.” The tips of her ears flushed an adorable bright pink. “So I’m told.”
“Telling is good. Showing is better.” His gaze traveled south from her face, stopping at her legs. Cade was mesmerized by the play of the muscles in her nylon-clad thigh as her foot moved from the gas pedal to the brake. He shifted in his seat to relieve the growing pressure against his zipper.
“Are you offering?” she asked playfully, still concentrating on her driving and blissfully unaware of his condition.
He didn’t have a chance to answer before she pulled into the parking lot beside a small waterfall. The smallest natural falls in the country, if you believed the hype from the Stockton parks and recreation department. The town even honored the darned thing with a festival every fall.
A wooden footbridge spanned the top of the waterfall, and a picnic area, with several tables and a barbecue pit, was situated at the base. The bride, easily identifiable in her white gown, hovered near one of the tables, surrounded by a group of formally dressed men and women Cade presumed made up the wedding party. Why else would seven women be wearing the same ugly-ass orange dress?
“You must be Ivy.” A woman in a crisp, light gray pantsuit broke free from the crowd and approached them almost before they could get out of the car. “I’m the mother of the bride. There’s a few things I’d like to discuss with you before we get started.”
She took Ivy by the elbow and spirited her off, leaving Cade to grapple with the equipment.
“So it’s true.” A familiar singsongy voice made him jump, and he almost banged his head on the open hatchback.
“Sasha.” He withdrew from the car, a tripod in one hand and Ivy’s camera bag in the other. He slammed the hatch shut, hitched the bag over his shoulder and faced her.
“It’s true,” she repeated, shaking her head. “You’re her lackey.”
“I’m helping a friend.”
“Friend?” She took a step toward him, her perfectly plucked eyebrows arched. “My sources say you two are shacking up.”
Her sources? Who did she think she was, Katie freaking Couric?
He tucked the tripod under his arm and studied her. Even an in-your-face sexpot like Sasha couldn’t make that hideous dress look good. “What if we are?”
“You can do better, you know.” She put a hand on his forearm.
He shook it off. “If by better you mean you, I’ll pass.”
Cade looked around for Ivy. He found her above him on the footbridge with Momzilla, who was gesturing wildly. She was pointing at something or someone down below, and Ivy’s head turned in the same direction. He could tell by the way she stiffened the moment her eyes landed on him and Sasha.
“Duty calls.” He tightened his grip on the strap of the camera bag, backed away from his ex and eyed the steep, wooden stairway that wound up the side of the falls. Doctor be damned, he was going up there. He had to reach Ivy before the wrong impression was cemented firmly in her mind.
“Have a nice time at the wedding,” he said over his shoulder as he navigated around the picnic tables toward the steps. “Good luck catching the bouquet.”
If she did, one thing was for sure. He was staying the hell away from the garter.
* * *
“P
ERFECT
.” I
VY
CROUCHED
down to get a better angle of the wedding party lined up on the footbridge. “One more for good luck and we’re all done here.”
And not a moment too soon. The higher the sun got, the more the bride was starting to spritz, and a sweaty bride did not for good photos make.
Then there was the added bonus of putting as much distance as possible between herself and Sasha. Once the posed prewedding photos were done, all that was left were the candids at the church and reception. It would be easier to avoid the evil eye Cade’s ex was shooting her in a crowd.
If she was still his ex. Ivy shrugged off the surge of what she knew was irrational jealousy. So he’d been talking to Sasha. So what? What was he supposed to do, ignore her when she came right up to him? Take her down with a karate chop to the back of the head? Anyway, it was Ivy’s house he was living in, Ivy’s bed he was sleeping in at night. Well, technically her sister’s house and her sister’s bed. But it was Ivy he was sharing them with.
“That’s a wrap.” She snapped the lens cap on her camera and stood slowly, thanks to her short skirt. “Thanks, everyone. I’ll see you all over at the church.”
She moved to one side, letting the members of the wedding party pass her on the narrow path from the bridge to the stairs. Only one—Sasha, natch—seemed to find it impossible to get by without elbowing her in the ribs, almost making her drop her Nikon.
“Sorry about that,” Cade said as he came up beside her, camera bag over one arm and tripod in the other.
“Why?” Ivy handed him the camera, which he stowed carefully in the bag. “You didn’t do anything.”
“I should never have agreed to the whole fake date thing in the first place. Then Sasha wouldn’t have it in for you.”
Yeah. And they would never have wound up sleeping together. Was he regretting that, too?
Ivy pushed aside that pesky thought and took the camera bag from Cade. “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure she’d find some other reason to hate me.”
Girls like her usually did.
With a sigh so low not even whales could hear it, Ivy started down the path toward the stairway.
“Do you need a hand?” she asked, suddenly wondering how he’d gotten up there in the first place. She’d been so occupied with the controlling mother of the bride she hadn’t even thought about how he’d gotten to her side. “I can take the tripod...”
“Nah.” He waved her off. “I’m right behind you.”
When she reached the bottom, she turned.
Right behind
was apparently a relative term, as Cade was still making his way down, moving slowly, his free hand clutching the rail with every step, but managing pretty well despite the extra encumbrances of his cast and the tripod.
Ivy’s heart did a nosedive to her stomach. If he could climb up and down the precarious staircase at the falls, he could certainly manage the one at his apartment, and that meant he could go home. Something that had probably occurred to him, too.
“Let’s roll,” he said when he reached her, putting a hand at the small of her back like she was the walking wounded and not the other way around. “We don’t want to be late for the ceremony.”
Just as Ivy predicted, avoiding Sasha’s stink eye was easier at the church and even simpler at the reception, with everyone busy dining and dancing. As a photographer, Ivy’s favorite part of any wedding was the reception. Sure, the ceremony was beautiful. And there was nothing quite like the expression on a groom’s face when he saw his bride walk down the aisle.
But what she liked capturing best were the unscripted, unexpected moments. The groom’s head thrown back in laughter at some questionable joke in the best man’s toast. The tear running down the father of the bride’s face when he danced with his daughter. The subtle, longing glances between the bride and groom when no one else was paying attention.
Would anyone ever look at her like that? Would Cade?
“You’ve got plenty of pictures.” The man at the center of her thoughts took the camera from her hand and set it down on a nearby table. “Dance with me.”
He held out a palm. She looked from it to her expensive camera and back again.
“My Nikon...”
“Will be fine.” He pulled out his wallet, extracted a five-dollar bill and waved it in front of a floppy-haired boy of about thirteen who was sitting at the table, engrossed in a video game on his phone. “Keep an eye on this for me, okay? There’s five more in it for you when we come back.”
The boy blew his bangs off his forehead and looked up from the game. “Make it ten up front and ten more on the flip side, and you’ve got a deal.”
Cade pulled out another five and plunked it on the table. “Fine.”
Without waiting for any sort of acknowledgment from Ivy, he took her by the hand and led her onto the dance floor.
“You got robbed,” she said.
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
The band chose that moment to slow things down, launching into Chris de Burgh’s “The Lady in Red.” Ivy’s heart fluttered as Cade drew her flush against him. The heat from his body surrounded her and the scent of his skin, mossy and heady from his cologne, mingled with the sweet smell of the flowers in the elaborate table centerpieces.