Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
A nna stood in the kitchenette of the little rental condo and began pulling things from her tote bag, her brain still reeling from her evening with Grant. Had she really walked away from the promise of hot sex with a perfect guy?
Is he really all that perfect, or is it an act?
Across the room, Janelle stood up and stretched as she made her way into the kitchen. “A coconut? A flash drive? A Tupperware container?” She studied the pile Anna had made on the counter. “Is that a handbag or a clown car?”
“The slaw is for you. The coconut is for pie. I’ll give you a piece if you’re nice.”
Janelle grinned. “From the beard burn on your throat, I’d say Grant must’ve been very nice. Did you give him a piece?”
Anna swatted at her sister with a dish towel, but Janelle danced out of the way, laughing. “Oh, come on—dish!” Janelle urged. “I want to hear all about it.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Anna said, turning her back as she shoved the slaw into the fridge and tried to cool her flaming face. “Yeah, we might have fooled around a little, but we decided it was a bad idea.”
“Why on earth would it be a bad idea to tongue-wrestle with a sex god?”
“Because we’re trying to maintain a professional relationship.”
And also because I’ve got the world’s worst track record when it comes to judging men and relationships, Anna amended silently as she busied herself trying to find something she could use to crack the coconut.
“So he’s going to be our wedding photographer?”
“I’m not sure yet. I need to look at his photos.”
Janelle quirked an eyebrow at her. “You’ve been gone three hours. I thought you went over there to look at his portfolio. What the hell were you doing that whole time?”
“Touring his house, eating dinner, watching him scale a thirty-foot palm tree barefoot with his fly undone.”
“Okay, now I’m intrigued. You didn’t even mention the tongue-wrestling in there, so I know you’re leaving stuff out. Come on, tell me everything.”
So Anna did, omitting few of the more intimate details of their near-miss hookup, but covering nearly everything else. When she finished, her sister was gawking at her.
“Holy shit, I take back what I said about him being a sex god. I think he might actually be God. Did you happen to see any white robes or a big gold scepter?”
“I didn’t look, but I’m not taking any chances. I think sex with the Almighty might actually kill me.”
“Yeah, but what a fun way to go. Maybe after all the weddings are over?—”
“No.” Anna’s voice came out a little too sharp, and she tried to cover it with a smile, but Janelle hadn’t missed it.
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
“That’s the other thing—his bookshelves were lined with things like Shakespeare and Plato. How could you ever fart in front of a guy like that?”
Janelle frowned. “I think I missed something here.”
“I’m just saying,” Anna said, giving up on the coconut and palming the flash drive instead. “Being with a guy who’s too perfect would be exhausting. I don’t have it in me.”
“Speaking of having it in you?—”
“Cut it out, you little pervert. Let’s look at the sex god’s photos.”
Janelle shrugged and padded over to the little table where they’d left the laptop charging. She flipped it open and held out her hand for the flash drive. Anna handed it over and dropped into the seat beside Janelle, not sure why she felt so fluttery inside. It was ridiculous. She was a grown woman who’d dated plenty of smart, creative, professional men with?—
“Wow, that’s a really long one!”
Anna blinked, her libido surging traitorously at her sister’s words. “What?”
“Exposure. A long exposure. That’s what he must’ve used to get this shot of the night sky.” Janelle looked up from the monitor and grinned. “What did you think I meant?”
“Exposure, obviously.” Anna cleared her throat and pulled the laptop closer to her so she could have a better view. “Wow, that really is a great shot.”
“Isn’t it?”
She scrolled through a folder of landscape photography, admiring Grant’s skill at capturing sunsets and lakes and raindrops on blades of grass. She hadn’t pegged him as the artistic type, but he sure as hell had a knack for composition.
“Let me drive,” Anna said, seizing control of the computer and clicking to a subfolder labeled “bugs.”
She expected photos of insects, maybe beautiful butterflies or lightning bugs at sunset.
“What the hell is that?” Janelle asked.
“Surveillance equipment of some sort. That’s what you get when a Marine counterintelligence expert labels a folder ‘bugs.’” Anna tapped on a close-up image of some sort of microchip stuck to the bottom of a saltshaker. It was surprisingly artistic, rendered in black and white with great contrast and detail.
“The guy could take a creative shot of a bowl of potato soup,” Janelle said. “He’s got an amazing eye.”
Anna nodded and clicked on another photo, transfixed by a breathtaking image of a shirtless man in combat fatigues cradling an infant to his chest while a smiling woman peered over his shoulder. That one was in a subfolder labeled “friends,” so the guy in the photo must be a fellow Marine holding his new baby. Anna clicked another picture, spellbound by the detail and character and personality Grant had managed to capture in each image. A woman in a raincoat on a misty street corner. A soldier offering water to a bedraggled dog. Dirty, dark-haired kids dancing in the spray from a fire hydrant.
“He’s really good,” Anna murmured, not sure why she was surprised. The bastard was great at everything.
“I want to see those pictures of your friend—Kelli? The one who married Grant’s brother. You said Grant took the engagement photos?”
“Right, I’m sure he threw them in here somewhere.” She clicked a folder marked “family” and spotted a subfolder labeled “Mac and Kelli engagement.”
“I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess this is it,” she said, clicking it open. “Here, look at this one—notice the way he captured the light on her face.”
“She looks so in love.”
“Kinda what you want in a wedding photographer. Check this one out—it’s one of the only times I’ve ever seen Mac without sunglasses.”
“Wow,” Janelle breathed. “Can you imagine what it would be like to have a guy look at you like that? Like you’re the best, most amazing thing that’s ever happened to him.”
Something caught in Anna’s throat, and she found herself blinking hard against the glare on the computer screen. At least she thought it was the glare.
“I can’t imagine,” she said softly and clicked the folder closed. “Let’s see what else he’s got.”
“What do you think is in that one?” Janelle pointed to a folder marked “Desiderium.”
Anna shrugged, hovering the mouse over the folder. “Is that a woman’s name?”
“If it is, it’s a weird one.”
“The Patton family is funny with names. All the kids are named after military generals, but maybe he’s got cousins who are all named with Latin words for body parts or something.”
Anna began through the images in the folder. At first, they seemed not to match the rest of the shots on the zip drive. Many of them were grainy, looking like poorly scanned versions of old Polaroids. In one shot, two young boys with matching gray eyes stood shoulder to shoulder in red-and-white baseball uniforms. One held a bat and the other held a glove. Both were missing a front tooth, which wasn’t the only thing about their smiles that matched.
“Grant’s brothers?” Janelle guessed.
“Grant,” Anna said, not sure why she was so certain. “He’s the one on the left. The other one must be a brother, but I don’t think it’s Mac. Mac has brown eyes like Sheri and their mom.”
She clicked the next one in the series and opened an image of the same two gray-eyed boys looking a little bit older.
“Oh, wow!” Janelle laughed. “Is that Grant’s homecoming picture?”
“He must have double-dated with his brother,” Anna said, studying the poofy-haired blonde girls flanking them like bookends. “Geez, even their dates match.”
Anna kept clicking, watching as Grant’s high school years unfolded before her eyes, always with his brother beside him. The images moved through their college years, then into a series of shots showing the young men in military attire.
“That’s not Mac in any of those?” Janelle asked.
“No,” Anna said, clicking open a photo that showed two young men in military garb. “Mac’s hair is darker. Besides, that’s an Army uniform. Mac was a Marine, just like Grant is.”
“So who?—”
“The other brother. One they don’t ever seem to talk about. Grant mentioned him over dinner.”
“He’s in the Army?”
“I have no idea. Grant didn’t tell me much. Just that he’s not in touch with the family a whole lot. I guess if he’s the black sheep of the family, it would make sense he’d pick a different branch of the military than Mac and Grant did.”
Anna clicked another photo, this one showing Grant and his brother shirtless on a beach, tossing a football between them. Both were glorious specimens of masculinity, tan and muscular with the close-cropped hair and the rippling muscles of young, professional soldiers.
Janelle eyed her curiously. “Since when are you an expert on military families?”
“I got to know Mac when I worked on his wedding to Kelli. As well as anyone knows Mac, anyway. Kelli calls him Tall, Dark, and Detached from Humankind.”
She clicked another photo, this one of the two brothers in more formal military attire. Each had an arm slung around the other’s shoulders, and they were laughing at something outside the reach of the camera’s lens.
Anna clicked the last photo in the series and froze.
It was a shot of the mysterious brother alone. This photo was more artistic than the others, rendered in black and white with dark shadows everywhere. The brother was hunched on a battered chair, his body turned away from the camera. His hair was a disheveled mess, and one hand was clenched in a fist at his side. He had several days’ worth of stubble on his jaw, and a frown that formed harsh brackets around his mouth.
The image looked candid, and he must have turned his head toward the photographer just as the shutter clicked. There were lines in his face that hadn’t been there in any of the other photos and a haunted look in his eye that made Anna shiver.
“Wow,” Janelle said. “There’s something really depressing about that one.”
“No kidding.”
“He’s beautiful though,” Janelle murmured, her voice a little trancelike. “ It’s beautiful, I mean. The photo. Well, so is the man. Where did you say he lives?”
“I didn’t.” Anna swallowed. “I don’t know anything else about him.”
“That’s one dark and broody man.”
Something in Janelle’s voice made Anna tear her gaze off the photo and focus on her sister’s face.
Janelle blinked. “What?”
“Nothing. You look a little—transfixed.”
“I can’t help it. There’s something about this guy.”
“Right.” Anna swallowed and reached for the mouse.
Janelle cleared her throat. “So Mac is the stoic, badass brother and this guy in the picture is the tortured-looking black sheep. What does that make Grant?”
Anna clicked the photo shut and watched it vanish from the screen. She’d known Grant less than twenty-four hours, but she could list at least a dozen adjectives to describe him. Smart. Kindhearted. Helpful. Heroic. Charitable. Cheerful. Accomplished.
But something about that photo made her think there was another side to him.
“Full of secrets,” she said, feeling uneasy. She pushed the laptop closed, wondering if she’d find out what lay behind Grant Patton’s perfect, polished surface.
Anna was brushing her teeth before bed when her phone rang. She glanced at her watch, surprised to realize it was earlier than she expected. Apparently she hadn’t adjusted to the three-hour time difference between Portland and Hawaii.
Her phone was half covered by a hand towel, and the sight of “Patton” on the readout made her heart do a pitiful little leap in her chest.
She shoved the towel aside, switching gears when she saw “Sheri” instead of “Grant.”
“This is Anna,” she said, cradling the phone between her shoulder and cheek.
“Hey, Anna, it’s Sheri. Sorry to call so late, but I wanted to let you know Sam and I finally made a decision on the cake.”
“You went with the white cake and buttercream frosting, filled with layers of strawberry?”
Sheri laughed. “You’re a psychic wedding planner as well?”
“Nah, the bakery called and told me you two stopped by. Excellent choice, by the way. I’ll make sure the bakery has everything set up that afternoon just like you want. I just checked the tracking info on your custom cake topper, and that should be here by tomorrow afternoon. I’ll call the bakery tomorrow to make sure they have it.”
“Thanks, Anna. God, this is so much easier having a wedding planner. I’m so glad Kelli recommended you.”
“Not a problem. It’s my job to make your life easier so you can enjoy your big day.”
“I’m determined to do that this time around. My first wedding was a disaster, with my mom and me staying up all night to make a million of these stupid little bows for the back of the guests’ chairs while my ex snored in the other room. That probably should have told me something right there, huh?”
“I’m glad you’re getting a second shot to do things the way you want,” she said, not sure whether she meant the wedding or the marriage.
“It’s so nice to leave the wedding details to someone else so I can focus on enjoying the groom.”
There was a muffled giggle on the other end of the line, and a baritone voice mumbling something salacious about enjoying the groom. Sheri laughed again, and a ridiculous pang of jealousy nipped at the corner of Anna’s brain. She pushed it aside, forcing a smile into her voice.
“I’m so happy for the two of you. Grant mentioned Sam asked him to be the best man, so I assume we’re all squared away on the wedding party now?”
“Yep. Totally fitting, don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?”
“Grant as the best man. Aside from my betrothed, he’s the best man I know. He said he volunteered to photograph some weddings for you?”
“We’re still discussing it, but I won’t let him volunteer. Obviously, I’ll insist on paying him.”
“Good luck with that. The man is a consummate volunteer. If you ever need a kidney, put him on your short list of people to ask.”
Anna considered the idea of asking Grant for a body part and decided it wasn’t his kidney she wanted. She cleared her throat.
“He’s a very skilled photographer,” Anna said. “Not much experience shooting weddings, but he clearly has an eye for capturing human interaction. I think he’ll be great at it.”
“I’m surprised he’s so eager to do it. The man’s spent his whole adult life running like hell at the sound of wedding bells, but maybe it’s different when they’re someone else’s.”
Anna twisted the hand towel around her fingers, focused on keeping her voice nonchalant. “Some people just don’t have the urge to get married.”
“I suppose, though Grant would be great at it. He’s dated plenty of amazing women—lots of beautiful, fluffy blondes in sweater sets, which sounds a little boring when I put it that way. Total Stepford wives, but Grant’s out of there at the first sign one of them wants to make the wife thing the real deal.”
Anna stole a glance at the mirror and studied her reflection. She stood braless in a tank top that read “Wedding planning’s not for pussies,” a gift from a former client. The blue streaks in her red-gold hair shone wild and bright under the florescent bathroom lights, and the sunflower tattooed on her left shoulder blade seemed larger than normal.
Stepford wife she was not. She was mostly happy about that, but she knew the real reason for her need to squelch anything traditional in her attitudes and demeanor. She didn’t deserve the traditional happily ever after, so she’d make damn sure she shied as far away from traditional as possible.
“Anyway,” Sheri continued, cheerfully unaware of her wedding planner’s critical self-analysis, “I’m glad he’s going to be taking photos for you. He’s always had such a talent for it, but this will stretch his comfort zone a little.”
Anna thought about those photos on the flash drive. Something told her he hadn’t meant to include them. That they were something private, even sacred. Was there a way to learn more from Sheri without giving away any of Grant’s secrets?
You don’t know any secrets , her subconscious argued. He’s made sure of that.
Anna cleared her throat. “Have you ever heard of Desiderium?”
“Desiderium? I don’t think so. Wait, is that the vibrator that plugs in? Kelli bought me one after my divorce.”
“Right,” Anna said, pushing aside the memory of the brother’s haunted eyes in that last photograph and focusing on the discussion at hand. “Desiderium. It’s the latest rage among all my brides this year.”
Grant wasn’t surprised when Anna called the next day and offered him the wedding photography job. He’d known his work was solid, and besides that, she was in a bind.
What surprised him was the aloofness in her voice.
“So I’ll pick you up at noon?” she said, sounding businesslike instead of like a woman who’d spread her thighs and urged him to slide his hand up her dress.
“Noon,” Grant repeated, still distracted by the memory of her thighs and the way she’d felt slippery around his fingers, the soft whimpers forming low in her throat and making him want to bend her over the table and slide hard and deep into her. “Um, yeah. That works for me.”
After a few minutes of squabbling about money—Anna insisting she needed to pay him, Grant insisting he owed her some free work after maiming her original photographer—they hung up and Grant went to take a shower.
Anna arrived at noon on the dot. He looked at her through the peephole, admiring the curve of her small breasts beneath a pale sea-green sundress. She was biting her lip and holding a pie plate in her hands.
When Grant opened the door, she thrust the pie at him.
“What’s this?” he asked, admiring the little flecks of coconut and lime zest on the custardy-looking surface.
“Coconut-lime pie,” she said. “You’re not the only passably skilled cook around here. I made it with the coconut that beaned you in the head. You should stick it in the fridge.”
“My head or the pie?”
“Both.” She laughed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the blue streak flashing in the sunlight. What the hell was it about her that was so damn intriguing?
“Your condo must have an oven?”
“No, it’s a no-bake pie,” she said. “I’ll give you the recipe sometime.”
“Thanks. That’s really sweet of you.”
God, they were exchanging recipes now? He’d been seriously friend-zoned if that was the case. It was best, he knew, but the thought made him glum.
Grant turned away and moved toward the kitchen to shove the pie in the fridge. He grabbed his camera bag and returned to the door.
“Ready to roll?”
“After you,” he said, and let her lead the way to her rental car.
Grant thought about offering to drive. Hell, he knew this island better than she did, and the macho part of him liked being behind the wheel. But Anna seemed like the sort of woman who liked being in the driver’s seat, too, which was fine by him. He needed a few minutes to get his camera gear organized.
“So this is the wedding with the fairy-tale theme?” Grant asked, settling into the passenger seat with his bag on his lap.
“Yes. Only the bride’s family convinced her to go a little more traditional. Instead of gnome costumes and bridesmaids with wings, we’re doing the ceremony at a private lodge near Hanalei Bay so they can play off the ‘Puff the Magic Dragon’ concept. You know, ‘He frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called?—’”
“Hanalei, got it,” he said, feeling oddly charmed by her tuneless singing. And by the jangly bracelet around her ankle, the one without the tattoo. And by pretty much everything else about her, come to think of it.
“So nontraditional weddings are your bread and butter,” he said, unscrewing the filter from his lens.
“Pretty much. I do normal weddings—your sister’s, for instance—but most people seek me out because I’m known for being a bit unusual.”
“You don’t say.”
She glanced at him then, her expression wary, like she was trying to figure out what he meant. “Hey, it wasn’t an insult,” he assured her. “I think it’s cool you march to the beat of your own drum. You’re not like a lot of women.”
“How do you mean?”
He shrugged, knowing he should probably tread carefully here or risk insulting her. He wiped down the filter with a dust-free cloth as he considered his words. “The bluntness, for one. A lot of women play games or beat around the bush with what they mean to say, but not you. You just put it all out there, brutal honesty and all.”
“Honesty,” she repeated, giving a firm nod. “Yep.”
“And your career is sort of your own unique thing. Same with your hair, your jewelry, the tattoos. You’re definitely your own person.”
She was smiling a little now, warming up to the idea that he wasn’t insulting her. Grant wiped down the lens and kept going.
“You’re funny. I love your sense of humor, and that cute dimple that shows only when you smile really big.”
She rewarded him with a bigger grin, and Grant started to feel warm all over.
“Observant,” she said. “Most people don’t notice I only have one dimple.”
“On the right. I noticed. It’s very unique.” He set the dust-free cloth aside and pulled out his handheld blower. “Then there’s the marriage thing.”
“Marriage thing?”
“So many women your age are dying to get hitched. To have the big froofy wedding and the traditional family with 2.3 kids and a house in the suburbs. But that’s not what you’re after.”
There was the tiniest falter in her smile. So tiny he might have imagined it, or maybe she was frowning at the wild rooster squashed on the side of the road.
“Right,” she said, flashing him a grin that made him certain he’d misread her a second ago. “Definitely not looking to walk down the aisle at any point in my life.”
“I think that’s cool,” he said. “Same here.”
“Oh?”
“I’m not a fan of marriage. It’s fine for other people, but not for me.”
“What happened to you?”
Grant blinked, a little surprised by the directness of the question. There had to be some point where he’d stop being caught off guard by her blunt nature, but he wasn’t there yet.
“What do you mean?” He was trying to keep his tone light and casual, but knew he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.
“People who don’t want to get married usually have a reason for it,” she said, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “Their parents’ divorce, screwing up their sister’s marriage—things like that.”
“Hypothetically speaking?”
“Right. So what’s your story? Why don’t you want to get married?”
“Are you proposing?”
He meant it as a joke—a way to keep the conversation lighthearted and whimsical and away from anything serious.
But from the way she cut her eyes to him, he knew he’d missed the mark. He swallowed and went back to dusting his camera lens.
“I don’t have a story.”
Anna went quiet. For a moment, he thought they’d reached the end of the conversation. He started to relax, went back to using a little handheld blower to puff air into the camera body. He was still looking down in his lap when he felt the car jerk to a stop.
He looked up to see Anna staring at him over the rim of her sunglasses. “For a guy who says he admires honesty and bluntness, you sure have a helluva hard time being forthcoming with those qualities on your own.”
“What?”
She shrugged. “I just think there’s more to you than you’re letting on. Something darker. Something that’s not all cheerful Boy Scout.”
Grant swallowed, not sure what to say to that. What was she driving at? Did she know something?
“Come on,” Anna said, shoving her sunglasses back up her nose as she opened the car door. “The wedding party’s waiting.”
“We’re here already?” He glanced around, surprised to realize they’d already reached Hanalei.
“Yep.” She swung her legs out of the car and stood up, then peered back down at him. “Let’s get the ball rolling on the blessed union of holy matrimony. Or as you and I can regard it, ‘I’m glad it’s them and not us.’”
“Us,” Grant repeated under his breath, grateful she’d already walked away.