He laughs and climbs back into bed, leaving his camera next to him on the nightstand. “I knew who she was, Sky. I made shit up. Do you seriously not remember meeting me the first time?”
“I remember you moving in and making your studio look exactly like mine, you cocky ass.”
He chortles. “Yeah, that was funny. But we met before that. I’m hurt Sky. I really am.” Nick’s teasing tone is getting to me, but I don’t remember him. “Oh, come on—green hat, cord jacket, threadbare Chucks. I told you I wanted some pictures of a small wedding. You blew me off. I didn’t even get a folder.” He presses his hands mockingly to his bare chest and says the last few words like he’s going to fake cry.
“I give everyone a folder.”
“Except people you rule out. You ruled me out. I wasn’t worthy of your services because of my secondhand clothing. Ironic, right? Ya know, since I’m filthy stinking rich and you’re not.” Nick winks at me before he lies back, tucks his hands behind his head, and settles into the mattress.
I slip down to my pallet on the floor and recall the instance he’s telling me about. “You were wearing a John Deere hat.”
Nick points his forefinger at me. “Bingo. And you blew me off.”
I did toss him out pretty fast, but that wasn’t why. There’s no way in hell I’m telling him the truth, so I roll with it. “Yeah, I’m a snob. Total bitch.” I pull up my blankets and roll away from him.
He’s quiet for a moment and then softly says, “No, that’s not it. I’ll figure it out, Wendybird. And you should keep your kiss until you find the right guy. It’s under your pillow.”
My throat tightens as I reach underneath and find my thimble necklace. In Peter Pan, Wendy gave Peter the thimble and said it was a kiss. Nick knew. No one remembers that part of the story. My heart thumps and I don’t know what to think of him. He shouldn’t know these things, but he does. There’s no way he’s a Peter Pan freak like me. Yeah, guys get Peter Pan syndrome, but this isn’t the same. His words choke me because they’re filled with meaning beyond the gesture of handing back a trinket.
I’ve tried to find the right guy. The one previous time Mr. Right popped up, the situation was all wrong. There was already a ring on his finger and a woman on his arm. Sometimes that happens, and fate is too slow or we don’t wait long enough. I thought that’s what happened. After that first meeting with Nick, I was totally enthralled with him. I couldn’t shoot his wedding because the magnetic pull was too strong and I liked him too much. His smile was so alluring—add in those blue eyes and I knew I’d be toast. The fastest way out of the wedding business is to flirt with the groom, so I threw him out without explanation. After all, it’s not like I could tell him any of that. He’d already picked someone else.
Damn it. I’d wondered what happened to that guy, if he was happy. Now I know he’s fine, because he’s lying on the bed next to me, sound asleep.
CHAPTER 12
I toss and turn all night, devising ways to sabotage Nick. I can’t play fair, not after seeing his pictures. Each photograph was well executed. His histograms were perfect—at least on the shots I had time to view. The next day, Sophie manages to keep Mandy away from me as we walk along the shoreline.
“You shouldn’t have let her bait you like that.” Concern fills her voice and her fingers twist her flowing ivory skirt. She’s already dressed for dinner.
I shrug. “You have options. I don’t.”
She takes my arm and turns me toward her. My own dress swishes with the movement. We both stop walking. “Yes, you do. You can go home. Your parents can help you. Your mother has offered a million times.”
I sigh dramatically, “Which is exactly why I can’t close my shop and go crawling back to them. Sophie, I need to do this on my own. That bet with Mandy gives me a chance.”
“Yeah, but you’re going to have to do some things that aren’t like you to ensure you win, aren’t you? I mean, Nick doesn’t suck, right? Otherwise, Mr. Stevens wouldn’t have hired him.”
I can’t hold her gaze. “I am not ruining your wedding, don’t worry, and I’m not going to break his gear.” Hide it maybe, but not destroy it.
Sophie tilts her head at me and folds her arms over her chest. “You seriously expect me to believe that?”
I offer a half grin. “Enjoy your wedding and stop worrying about me. Come here for a second.” I tug her hand and ask her to stand on a rock that’s in the water. “Here, hand me your shoes.”
Sophie doesn’t want to do it. I can tell by her posture and the way she looks at the water. “Sky, the rock is slippery—I’ll fall in and ruin my dress.”
“They’d still be awesome pictures: a wet, white, wedding-ish looking dress. It’d fit right in with the boudoir shoot we’re doing tomorrow night.”