I step back, but Nick steadies me, or I would have fallen over again. I don’t say thank you. I want to bite his head off. “What wedding? No you don’t!”
He speaks way too calmly. “Yes, I do. Mr. Stevens hired me.”
What a liar. “He did not!”
Nick gives me that magical crooked smirk again and reaches into his gear bag, producing a wedding contract for photography services. I snatch it out of his hands and scan the thing. How could Sophie do this to me? I glance at him from the corner of my eyes, grinding my teeth. I’m very feminine when I’m pissed. I know. I flip to the last page and see a signature from Steven’s Dad. “I’m sorry, Miss Thompson, but this is my wedding. You’ll have to leave. Unless, I was right about my first guess and you’re in the wedding.”
“I’m not the slutty bridesmaid!” I smack the contract into his chest and stomp over to my bag, ripping out my contract with Sophie. I thrust it at him, spewing, “See! I’m the photographer and my contract says the same damn thing yours does!”
He reads it over and his jaw tightens, before he looks up at me with those annoyingly beautiful eyes again. Where the hell did they come from? Those blue eyes sparkle so much it looks like dwarves mined them or something. “I guess it does.” He shrugs. “Apparently, we were both hired to photograph the same event, and we were both given the same room—the photographer’s room.”
“Over my dead body.”
CHAPTER 6
I shove past him and make a beeline for the elevator. Nick follows after me with his gear bag still on his shoulder and an aggravating smile across that sexy face. I’m starting to appreciate why Mrs. Getty hired him. The guy is eye candy from head to toe.
There’s an awkward moment when we both step into the elevator and I notice that I ran out of the room wearing a rather transparent shower curtain. It was better than being naked, but not by much. Nick presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh. Asshole.
The bell chimes and the doors open. I haul my butt across the room and shove to the front of the line at the reception desk. Spawny is still there and her eyes widen when she sees me. I slam my hand on the counter, jab my thumb back at Nick and say, “Did you seriously give a strange man a key to my room?”
“He said he was the photographer.” She doesn’t blink.
“I’M THE PHOTOGRAPHER!”
Nick is standing there behind me, and turns his charm up to levels that only magical creatures can manage, before bursting into glitter. “I think there’s been a mix up and I’m happy to purchase another room.” He puts his key card on the counter and flashes a dazzling white smile at Spawny.
The wicked witch visibly shudders and taps her computer keys, before looking up apologetically. “I’m sorry, sir, but there aren’t any other rooms available.”
Nick’s voice tightens. “None?”
She shakes her frizzy red mane. “I’m sorry, sir.”
He looks back at me. “We’ll just have to share. Thank-you, Miss. Your service is wonderful. If I can fill out a comment card, just let me know.” He winks at her and leaves.
WTF? That did not just happen. Spawny has a girlish smile on her evil face and her gaze follows after Nick. She totally ignores me for a second, then turns and shoots imaginary lava out of her eyeballs until I leave.
As I clatter across the wooden lobby floors, I hear a familiar voice. “Skylar Thompson! Is that you?”
I turn and smile at my friend. “Sophie Soon-to-be-Stevens!” I give her a little hug and then she points at my outfit.
“Uh, dinner is casual, but I think we might need to define that a little bit better. I’d hoped you’d be wearing some clothes.” Sophie looks good. Her skin has that sun-kissed look that goes with her olive complexion and rosy cheeks. The lavender dress she’s wearing has a form-fitting bodice and flares right above the knee. She looks perfect.
And I’m wearing a shower curtain. Good God, I hope my mother isn’t here yet.
“Ha ha.” I don’t want to dump extra stuff on her, but I have to tell her. “Did you know Steven’s Dad hired another photographer?”
Her smile falters. “Oh crap.” She sighs and pushes her hair out of her face, looking around the room as she does it. People are everywhere, hugging, saying hellos. Someone calls to Sophie and she waves back. “I was afraid he’d do that. I told him my friend was shooting the wedding and he said he wanted a professional. I told him that you were a professional, but I guess he didn’t believe me. He kept talking about his friend’s daughter’s wedding and green pictures. I don’t know exactly what happened, but he kept saying he didn’t want that to happen at our wedding. Is it a problem?” Worry pinches her pretty little face and I feel like a jerk for saying anything.
Smiling at her, I shake my head. “No. I’ll work it out.”