Chapter 10
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“I ’m glad you could come by, Brynn,” Natalie said as she came around her desk. “Let’s have a seat over here.” She motioned to the turquoise couch against the interior wall of the office. There were two geometrically patterned chairs with touches of rust and turquoise positioned in the grouping facing it. The coffee table in the center had been made from a slab of raw wood coated in epoxy. The color and texture of the piece had her raising the camera around her neck.
“I’m going to take a couple of shots of your table,” she warned. “I’ve wanted to do it every time I come in here.”
Natalie laughed. “Go ahead and get it out of your system.”
She homed in on the grain and texture of the tabletop and took four quick shots.
“What do you plan to do with those?” Natalie asked.
Brynn scrolled back through the shots, checking them. “I don’t know, but I’ll add them to my texture files and see what pops up.”
Natalie shook her head. “Would you like something to drink before we talk?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
Natalie sat at one end of the couch, and Brynn took one of the chairs. A trained observer, she read the tension in the editor’s features.
“I wanted to apologize again for springing Tucker on you. I should’ve called as soon as I talked to him.”
“I’ve put it behind me, and Tucker is an excellent scuba instructor.”
“So, you’ve had your first two lessons?”
“Yes, and we’ve scheduled another this Sunday.”
Some of the tension leached from Natalie’s features. “Good. Are you documenting your lessons?”
“Yes. The first video will go up after I’ve shown it to Tucker.”
“Good. Before you go to Australia, I’d like to do a feature on all your training.”
“You can’t use Tucker’s image in any of that.”
“I know, but I thought you might want to hand him your camera now and then and let him take pictures of you while you’re training.”
The idea had already occurred to her. “Yes, we can do that.”
“So, you enjoyed your first two lessons?”
“Yes. I felt like a wrung-out dishrag afterward, but I enjoyed them.”
Natalie laughed. “I can’t imagine. You’re in such wonderful shape.”
“It has something to do with the compressed air leaching moisture from your body, and you’re expending a lot of energy breathing and swimming. I felt better once I hydrated and had something to eat.”
“Good.”
“I’ll also be uploading the footage I filmed at the Scuba shop to my podcast once I run it by Tucker.”
Natalie nodded. “So, he’s still distrustful of the press?”
“A little wary.”
Natalie was silent for a moment. “You two have some things in common.”
Brynn ran her fingers through her hair and brushed it back from her face. “We’ve been over this already, and I’m past it now. What was it you wanted to speak to me about?”
“I’ll have the contract for the Australia shoot ready tomorrow. Are you ready to sign it?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to wait until I’ve done a deeper dive and taken some photos? I’m not really as prepared as I want to be to make the trip or to take the photos.”
“I know how hard you push yourself, Brynn. I’m confident you’ll be prepared and will produce a quality product for us.”
“I’ll certainly try, but I’m not an expert in this field.”
“If divers with a GoPro can take photos, you can.”
Why was she pushing so hard for this? “You’ll say that now, but that isn’t all you’ll expect for the magazine.”
Natalie chuckled. “You’re right. I’ll want them to be as perfect as all your other work is.”
“And if they aren’t?” Brynn asked.
“You’re going to have lots of photos of other things there, and we’ll deal with the underwater photos when we have to. But I still believe wholeheartedly that you’ll come through for us. We all know you’re a wonder with a camera.”
Brynn drew a deep breath. “I have my own scuba gear now. But you’ll need to add the backup team. I’ll be diving in unfamiliar waters, and I’ll need someone to keep track of my bottom time while I’m busy photographing.” She’d lost track of time on the dive, and had Tucker not kept track, she would have been in trouble. “I’ll probably have to make at least four or five dives. Fish don’t just stick around to have their photos taken. So, besides having my tanks filled and any extra equipment I might need…” She blew out a breath. “I’ll have to speak to Tucker about all that.”
“It will all be in the contract.”
Was there an edge of panic in Natalie’s insistence? Or was it just determination?
Brynn glanced at her watch and hastily got to her feet. “Give me a call when you have it all written up, and I’ll come back by and sign it. I have another shoot today, and it’s going to be hot.”
Natalie smiled and rose to her feet. “I’ll call you as soon as the contract is ready.”
*
Two more photos, and she’d be done. Brynn studied the images on the computer screen critically. The shot of the marlin being strung up on the dock would be best for the deep-sea fishing charters. The sailboat image was beautiful against that orange-purple sky as it came into the dock. The marina owner would be thrilled with the shot since he was the one bringing the boat in. It would be perfect to promote him as well.
She studied the three or four shots she’d gotten of a blue cabin cruiser. At one point, she’d thought she’d seen the sun glint off of binoculars. The two men on board had obviously been watching her. Which was a little creepy, but they’d kept their distance. She wouldn’t use the shot she’d taken of the boat to promote the marina. But she might find a use for it for something else. She closed out the cabin cruiser photos and concentrated on the sailboat and marlin.
Tucker had mentioned going deep-sea fishing. She’d have to show him some of the shots. She drew in a deep breath. She had to quit thinking about him so often. It was becoming a habit.
She positioned the images of the sail boat and the marlin onto the trifold pamphlet she was designing and saved it for printing. Dave wanted a classy brochure to go in the racks in hotel lobbies in the area. The hotel check-in staff often passed them out when guests asked about local sailing or fishing services. He also wanted large prints of several photos to hang in his office. She’d print those tomorrow and take them directly to him. In the meantime, she saved the brochure to a flash drive to take to the printing company he’d requested and placed it in her purse.
Her cell phone rang, and she glanced at the number. When her heart leaped from a steady beat to a gallop, she told herself to chill. Being so attracted to someone she’d spent two afternoons with was ridiculous. She cleared her throat before answering, but her voice still sounded a little breathy when she answered the phone.
“Hey, how are you?”
His baritone southern drawl just did it for her. Who was she kidding? Everything about him did it for her, but she just couldn’t shake her distrust completely. He was too perfect. Too…everything.
“I’m good. Just finished a job, and I’m taking a break.”
“Good. I’d like to invite you to dinner if you’re available.”
She weighed the effort it would take to get cleaned up against her empty refrigerator and said, “I’d like that.”
“Do you like Thai food?”
“Yes.”
“It happens to be a specialty of mine if you don’t mind eating in.”
“No, I don’t mind.”
“I’ll have it ready by the time you get here. You’re not allergic to peanuts, are you?”
“No.”
“Good. I’ll put the chicken on the grill. It’s been marinating all day.”
Wow. She’d never marinated anything in her life. “I’ve been on a shoot at one of the marinas all day. I’ll need a few minutes to clean up, but I’ll be there ASAP.”
“No worries. This will take some time.”
She rushed to the bathroom to take inventory of how much damage her day on the docks had done. She’d slathered herself with sunscreen and worn a hat for the three hours she’d been out, so she hadn’t burned, but she needed a quick shower and a fresh change of clothes.
She gave herself fifteen minutes in the shower, another ten to blow dry her hair, and another ten to apply moisturizer to her face, slap on a little blush, mascara, and lip gloss, and change into green leggings with a muted design and a long, pale peach summer-weight sweater. She closed out everything on her laptop, gathered her purse and keys, and left the apartment.
The sound of raised voices reached her as she neared Martin’s door, and she slowed. Martin’s voice was soft, but Tate’s was deeper and more distinctive. The sound of a thump and breaking glass had her pausing. More than once, she’d seen bruises on Martin. An arm, his chin, and once his ribs had been so bruised, he’d crept around like an old man for two weeks.
It didn’t matter that he was male. He was still being abused. But being male made it more difficult, or at least as difficult as it was for a woman, to admit to the abuse.
If she knocked now, Tate would know she’d stopped because she’d heard the disturbance. She rushed back to her apartment and got the empty casserole dish Martin had transported the pasta inside more than a week before.
She drew a deep breath as she knocked on Martin’s door. When the door swung open, Tate’s already angry expression morphed into a smirk. He was almost too handsome. His hair too thick. His jawline too sculpted. His lips too perfect. However, the look of disdain and arrogance in his eyes spoiled all that masculine beauty. “What do you want?”
“I was on my way out and wanted to return this casserole dish.”
“Your pet is here, Babe,” Tate said.
Pet? He was such an asshole.
Martin stepped around Tate. Though she couldn’t see any injuries, he seemed flushed and unhappy. “Hey.” His whole body projected stress, and his expression was almost blank with anxiety.
“The pasta was wonderful, Martin. I just wanted to return the dish,” she said. “I’d love the recipe.”
“I’ll write it out and bring it over to you tomorrow. You’re going out?”
She held back an audible sigh. Why wouldn’t he break away from this asshole? Probably for the same reasons she’d missed the red flags waving the entire time she’d been with Chad. Love, or the hope for love, made you do stupid things. Being manipulated by a controlling bastard did as well.
She couldn’t leave Martin without backup if Tate was already on a tear. If something happened to Martin…
“Is it the hunky scuba instructor?” Martin asked.
“Yes. He’s invited me to dinner.”
“Again? That’s great. You need to go. You don’t want to keep him waiting,” Martin said.
Would he urge her to leave if he was worried that Tate was going to erupt into violence?
God, she didn’t know. Men’s egos were so mixed up with their sense of masculinity, even gay men.
“So, our young Brynn is on the prowl,” Tate commented as he leaned against the door in an artful pose he’d probably learned from Martin.
She bit back the words, I’m not a house cat, and said, “I’m testing the waters.”
Tate’s expression changed, and he chuckled. “That’s clever. A scuba instructor, and you’re testing the waters.”
Martin laughed, but it sounded forced.
“Well, I’m not sure I want to get in over my head yet, but I have to start somewhere.”
Tate laughed again, and she attempted a smile. He seemed to be more relaxed now and less confrontational.
“I could keep going on like this indefinitely, but Tucker will be waiting for me. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Martin. I have some ideas for the photo shoot Natalie has planned for next week; I’d like to go over them with you.” There was no shoot, but she needed him to know she was there for him and for Tate to know she would check on Martin.
“That sounds good. Have a good evening.”
She nodded and started to walk away. Tate closed the door, and she stood to one side out of range of the peephole for a few minutes, listening for any sounds of trouble. All she could hear was the soft rumble of male voices.
She drew a deep breath and tried to release her worry. Martin was a grown man. She’d offered him help and support numerous times but couldn’t force him to take it any more than the people in her life could have forced her.
She’d given him a key to her apartment to provide him a safe place to escape if he needed one. She hoped he use it if Tate got out of control.
The elevator opened, and she looked back down the hall one last time before stepping in. She could only interfere so much before she became a target for Tate’s anger, too. She couldn’t take that on.
One quick stop along the way and forty minutes later, the female voice droned from her GPS, “Turn right in eighty feet onto Olive Tree Drive.”
Brynn sighed. How could anyone know what eighty feet was in a moving vehicle? But once she’d made the turn, she recognized some of the houses and gave a sigh of relief.
“You have arrived at your destination on the right.”
She pulled into Tucker’s driveway and parked. After she’d been here a few more times, she might even learn the route.
She needed to put aside her lingering worry over Martin’s situation and enjoy being here with Tucker.
For three long years, she’d been dead to any response to the opposite sex. But she wasn’t numb to Tucker. As she exited the car and walked to the front door, she felt the hypersensitive quickening of desire sensitizing intimate areas of her body. He couldn’t know what kind of response she felt toward him, and she wasn’t brave enough to act on it…yet. But she could still enjoy the rush. She rang the doorbell, and after a brief pause, the door opened.
Tucker’s smile had her heart tripping in response.