Chapter Seventeen #2
Matt holds up his hands and shakes his head with exaggerated dismay. “I’m just saying, if you could have waited until the end of the season, I wouldn’t be out a hundred bucks.”
Tracy grins and waggles her fingers at her fiancé. “Don’t be a sore loser.”
Matt shakes his head. “You know we share a bank account, right?” Then he turns to me and adds, “Seriously, watching the two of you circle each other the last couple of years has been painful. I’m glad you figured your shit out.”
I blink. “Circle each other?”
“Like two hot lions,” Tracy confirms, nudging her shoulder into mine. “That man has been looking at you like you’re a tasty snack forever. You seriously didn’t notice? Because you look back.”
“Everyone looks at Wes.” I glance back over my shoulder by habit, easily picking him out where he’s joined some chasers I don’t know well, his head tipped back and his shoulders shaking with laughter.
Our eyes catch and hold for a few seconds, his expression shifting to molten heat before someone taps his shoulder and he reluctantly turns away.
“Not like that.” Tracy snorts. “Just be sure to invite us to the wedding.”
“We aren’t…We haven’t…It’s only been like two weeks!” I squeak, throwing up my hands. “I don’t even know what’s going to happen when I go back to Colorado. The whole thing could fall apart.”
“Nah. Hot phone sex,” Tracy says without hesitation at the same time our friend Andrea wanders over with her sister Ashley in tow. They’re more Tracy’s friends than mine, but I give them a friendly wave.
“Who’s having phone sex?” Ashley asks with a little too much interest in her grin. “Hey, Sloane. Haven’t seen you much this season.” Her attention slides across the parking lot to where Wes is holding court. “Saw you were chasing with Talbot. How’d that happen?”
“Um, long story.”
“Heard it was more than chasing,” Andrea says with obvious curiosity as her attention flicks between me and Wes. “Everyone knows he’s been half in love with you for years.”
Everyone has to be a stretch. I gulp and laugh off the comment. Lust, sure. Wes cares about me, but calling it love is a step too far.
Not in the mood to contemplate that any further, I leave my friends to gossip among themselves and join Wes.
He slides an arm around my shoulder almost as if he’s not aware he’s doing it and pulls me into his side.
The teasing starts immediately, and though my stomach lurches uncomfortably at my personal life being a topic of discussion again, Wes endures it with little more than a sheepish grin.
He ignores the heckling to plant a kiss on my temple, the sweetness of the gesture at war with the bubbling discomfort I’m trying so hard to ignore.
The more public this is, the more questions I may have to answer next year if it all falls apart.
“You okay?” Wes asks quietly, his lips hovering over the shell of my ear.
I nod. We probably both know I’m not exactly telling the truth, but the steady weight of his arm around me does help. We’re in this together.
Thankfully the conversation turns when Tracy, Matt, and her friends head our way. I didn’t notice when she was lying down that her engagement ring is back in place on her left hand, the diamond sparkling in the sunlight.
Ashley must not have noticed until now either. She lets out an excited squeal and grabs Tracy’s hand. “Oh, it’s even prettier in person!”
Andrea elbows her sister out of the way, cooing over the ring. “I don’t think I’ve heard the engagement story.”
Tracy beams at Matt. “We were hiking. He stopped and said he had to tie his shoe. Then he whips this gorgeous ring out of nowhere.”
“Not nowhere. My pocket.” Matt laughs, his hand on her back. “My zippered pocket. You know how terrified I was that I was going to drop it on the trail?”
“When’s the wedding?” Andrea asks.
Tracy’s expression falls, her comment from weeks ago echoing in my head when she manages a tight smile. “No date yet.”
Her parents don’t exactly hate Matt, but they’re less than thrilled that he’s not the good church boy they envisioned for their daughter. She’s told me a little bit about their opinions, but the look on her face says there’s a lot more she’s been keeping to herself.
“My parents are pushing hard for the whole church, white dress, three-hundred-guests-I-barely-know routine, which is the last thing either of us wants,” she explains for the rest of the group’s benefit.
“We really should just go to Vegas. Weddings are such endless stress and a giant waste of money.” Tracy gasps, her hands flying to her mouth as she looks at me with horror.
“I don’t mean that you’re a waste of money! ”
I wave her off, not the least bit offended. “I see how the wedding sausage gets made. I get it. If I ever get married, I don’t want the fuss. Just my friends and some sunshine.” I force a grin past my guilt and add, “Oh, and a decent photographer.”
I pretend not to notice the way Wes tenses when I say if I ever get married.
Matt’s expression turns speculative while the group laughs.
“You know,” he starts slowly, his arm settling around Tracy’s waist. “We have most of our friends here. My parents are only a couple hours away. We could just get married in a field.” His eyes settle on me, wide with hope.
“We might even be able to talk Sloane into taking photos.”
“A storm chaser wedding!” Tracy lights up, genuine excitement bubbling out of her for the first time since the conversation turned to her engagement. “Wait, are you serious? I would love that.”
Suddenly everyone’s attention shifts to me. I hesitate, momentarily thrown by the weight of expectation, but Wes’s solid presence steadies me—and the photos would be epic.
“I’d love to!” I smile sheepishly and add, “I don’t know anything about how to make it legally binding, but I do know how to photograph storms and weddings.”
“Oh my god, thank you!” Tracy squeals and darts forward to throw her arms around me. “I was going to ask you for recommendations in LA if we ever set a date, but I like this option so much better!”
“You are going to have the best damn wedding photos I can give you,” I promise, hugging her back.
Matt happily slides his arm back around his fiancée once she lets me go. “You sure you don’t mind, Sloane? We will absolutely pay your normal rate.”
“Just tell me when and where.” I’ll argue with them about payment later. Tracy is the closest thing I have to a best friend. No way am I charging her more than a nice dinner out.
Besides, I’m burnt out on shooting big, elaborately staged weddings with demanding brides and even more demanding mothers.
Tracy and Matt aren’t that couple. They’re two photography nerds who love storms and just want to get married without all the fuss.
There won’t be a mother-in-law who shows up wearing white that I need to painstakingly edit to another color in each frame; there won’t be a family of twenty to wrangle into one shot and tedious head-swapping edits to make everyone look decent.
This is exactly the kind of wedding I’d love to shoot.