Chapter Six
The tent was going to be a mess after this, with three wet bodies filling its tight space, but Juliette didn’t mind. This was her last day at the lake anyway, so she would pack up the tent once the storm had passed, then give it a thorough cleaning once she got home tomorrow.
Rain drummed against the canvas overhead, while wind whooshed through the trees.
Juliette had always loved the sounds of a summer storm.
Even the crack and boom of thunder was music to her ears.
She lay on her back on the sleeping bag she used to cover the bottom of the tent, with Roux stretched out at her side.
Morgan sat against the far wall with her arms wrapped around her knees, looking uncertain . . . maybe even uncomfortable.
“Just close your eyes for a minute,” Juliette said softly, “and listen.”
She took her own advice, taking in the steady patter of rain against the canvas, the rush of wind through the trees, and an occasional rumble of thunder.
Within the tent, she heard Roux’s rhythmic breaths as he napped beside her.
The rustle of a body on the sleeping bag followed by a soft sigh made her hopeful that Morgan had finally started to relax.
“Better?” Juliette murmured without opening her eyes.
“Yes,” Morgan answered. “Sorry . . . again.”
“No need to apologize.” They were quiet for a minute, just listening to the storm.
“I guess I see why you like it here,” Morgan said finally. “There’s a certain . . . ambiance.”
“There is, but then again, I love being surrounded by nature. A little island in the middle of a lake is my ideal getaway spot.”
“I’m not very outdoorsy, as you probably noticed.”
Juliette smiled, still not opening her eyes. “I noticed. It’s a shame, too, all the photo opportunities you’re missing out on. You are a photographer, right?”
There was another sigh from Morgan. “I am. People are my passion, though. Portraits.”
“Is that what you do for a living?”
“Yes, but . . .”
Juliette peeked at her, finding Morgan’s brows knitted, no sign of the dimples she loved so much. “But?”
“I work for a portrait studio at the mall, and I hate it. I feel so stifled there.” The words tumbled out in a rush.
“I’m not allowed any creativity in how the portraits are taken, no spontaneity.
It’s all posed, using screens and props, and my boss is terrible.
He wouldn’t even give me this week off. We’re understaffed right now, but I put in my request months ago.
That’s why I was only able to come here for the day. ”
“Why do you stay there? Surely there are other jobs.”
“Because . . . I don’t know. I got comfortable, I guess. Sierra says I have a tendency to do that. I stay too long where I’m not appreciated, with jobs and with relationships.”
“I’m the opposite,” Juliette said quietly. “I got my heart broken pretty badly a few years ago, and since then, I can’t seem to make it past the third date before I’m ready to call it quits.”
“I’m sorry you got your heart broken,” Morgan whispered.
“I’m sorry your boss is an asshole,” Juliette responded.
Morgan laughed, and when Juliette peeked at her a second time, she was pleased to see Morgan stretched out on the sleeping bag, her expression almost serene. “How did you become a French teacher? A professor, I mean.”
“My family’s French Canadian, so I grew up bilingual.
I was born in Montreal and lived in Nova Scotia until I was twelve.
We moved a lot because of my dad’s job, which is how I ended up here in the US.
I’ve always been someone who’d rather be out hiking or in the water, but teaching French seemed like a better way to pay the bills, so .
. . here I am. I live in a beautiful state surrounded by nature, and I spend my summers outdoors when I’m not teaching. ”
“That seems like a good compromise.”
“It is. I’m happy.” Juliette looked at her. “Will you show me some of the photos you’ve taken today?”
Morgan nodded, bottom lip pinched between her teeth as she stared back at Juliette.
The moment held, fraught with something Juliette didn’t want to name, something she didn’t want to feel, because she only did casual these days, and everything about Morgan screamed more.
Morgan was the kind of girl you spent forever with, if you were lucky enough to win her heart.
Juliette wasn’t ready for that, wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready for something that intense, not after she’d had her heart trampled so thoroughly. But she couldn’t deny that Morgan made her smile more than she had in months.
Morgan rolled over to grab her camera, forcing Juliette to avert her eyes to avoid staring at her ass.
Morgan’s swimsuit wasn’t overtly sexy. The top was styled like a sports bra, and the bottoms were boy shorts, but Juliette had always preferred an athletic look.
Morgan’s understated curves and warm smile were exactly her style.
“I hope you don’t mind that I took some of you and Roux playing in the water,” Morgan said, drawing Juliette’s attention to the camera in her hands.
If she noticed the way Juliette had checked her out in her swimsuit, she didn’t give any indication.
“I was going to show them to you even before you asked, so I could get your approval. I’ll delete anything you don’t like. ”
Juliette’s lips pursed. She didn’t necessarily like being photographed without her knowledge, but this seemed innocent enough, and she might actually enjoy having some candid shots of her and Roux playing in the lake together.
She and Morgan both lay on their stomachs, feet in the air, with Roux dozing between them, as they looked at the viewfinder on Morgan’s camera.
Overhead, rain still tapped a steady rhythm against the tent.
Juliette had been annoyed when Sierra asked her to give Morgan a paddleboarding lesson.
She’d been anticipating this last trip to the island, had thought her plans would be ruined by Morgan’s presence, but now she was surprised to realize she didn’t mind having Morgan here with her.
This was exactly the kind of afternoon she’d envisioned spending with the woman she loved . . . back when she was still looking for love. Some women wanted glitz and glamour, but Juliette just wanted quiet moments like this, paddleboarding trips and sharing a tent surrounded by nature.
Morgan started tabbing through images, beginning with the photos she’d taken by the pool and then the pictures of Juliette and Roux on their paddleboard before her lesson.
Juliette didn’t always like photos of herself, but she liked these.
They were spontaneous and beautiful in their simplicity, designed to showcase the backdrop of the lake as much as her and Roux.
“They’re good,” she told Morgan honestly.
“Yeah?” Morgan darted a glance at her, insecurity written all over her face.
“Yes. You have a knack for capturing moments . . . and people. I hope you get the chance to leave that studio and do this full time.”
“I hope so too.” Morgan looked down at the viewfinder. “I think I’ll work on my photography website when I get home.”
“Good for you.”
She watched as Morgan tabbed through photos of the lake and the island.
Morgan’s nature photos were good, but her talent lay with people, capturing little moments that conveyed so much emotion.
When they reached the photos of Juliette and Roux playing in the water together, Juliette’s breath caught at the sheer joy on her face.
The woman in those photos was completely at ease, walls down and at peace with the world.
Of course she felt that way on this island with her dog, but with Morgan?
Juliette’s walls had been so high around any woman she liked these last few years.
She wasn’t sure how to feel about this photographic evidence that maybe she could be herself around a woman again, and not just any woman, but Morgan.
Morgan tapped the screen again, revealing a close-up of Juliette’s tattoo. “Sorry if these are too personal. Again, happy to delete anything you’re not comfortable with.”
Juliette blinked, unsure what to say. It was a beautiful shot—tasteful and artistic—but Juliette had never seen her tattoo highlighted this way.
She had complicated feelings about it, but she couldn’t deny she felt a little zing up her spine as she stared at the viewfinder, a thrill that Morgan had taken such a sexy photo of her.
Morgan tabbed ahead, revealing more photos of Juliette’s tattoo, and the thrill intensified. There was something about these photos, or maybe it was just knowing that Morgan had taken them. It made Juliette’s pulse race.
Morgan turned her head, and their eyes met.
Juliette would have loved to see a close-up photo of Morgan’s eyes like the ones she’d taken of Juliette’s tattoo, because from here, Juliette couldn’t tell what color they were.
A mixture of blue, green, and gray perhaps.
Whatever the color, they were beautiful, and right now, they were locked on Juliette’s.
Morgan blinked, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “I have a confession.”