Barefoot in Lace (Barefoot Bay Brides Book 2) (8 page)

Ari slipped into a chair, nodding. “Willow’s right, you know. This is significant.”

Was it? For some reason, Gussie didn’t want it to be significant. Probably because she knew what she wanted out of a man…and one who advertised “always alone” on his arm didn’t fit the bill. “He’s mind-numbingly attractive, so I’m claiming a numb mind.”

“Nick’s mind-numbingly attractive,” Willow countered. “And I didn’t show my cards to him right away.”

“Tom has a superpower,” Gussie told them with a sly smile. “He gets women to reveal stuff, like secrets and scars and the things that make us vulnerable. That’s how he gets such amazing photos, by taking down his subjects’ barriers.”

“Is he going to do that to our bride?” Willow asked, horrified.

Gussie laughed. “I don’t think Hailey’s hiding much.”

“Except a deep-seated dislike for her mother,” Willow said. “Which I totally understand.”

Ari was still zeroed in on Gussie. “Can I make a point here?” she asked. “You were dating a guy before we moved here last year, and having to come clean about your scar is what made you break it off with him.”

“You don’t know that,” Gussie shot back. Even though it was true and, dang it all, sometimes it seemed like Ari knew everything.

“I bet I do know that.” She held out her hand to shake. “Bit-O-Honey or Necco Wafers? I bet both that you broke up with that guy because you didn’t want to wig out.”

Gussie lifted her hand to make the bet, then dropped it. “You know I’m not going to lie. Not even for Bit-O-Honey.” She screwed up her face. “You have some?”

Willow stopped the conversation with a flat hand and determined look. “If you two start discussing the merits of that crap you call food right now, I’ll scream. Ari’s right. You didn’t tell Ryan, and we
both
thought you would.”

Gussie frowned, conjuring up an image of…bland. “Ryan, yeah. The tax attorney.” The boring, staid, kissed-like-a-vacuum-cleaner tax attorney. “I remember him.”

“You
remember
him?” Ari choked the question. “You dated him for two months.”

“And he helped us incorporate when we started the Barefoot Brides,” Willow added.

“He was forgettable, which is why I didn’t want to get into the whole scar thing. It gets so complicated and draining. Why get into the whole history when I knew there was no future?”

“So there’s a future with this photographer?” Willow asked.

“No, no. I mean…” What if he did stay on Mimosa Key to take care of his niece? A strange sensation of curiosity and longing wrapped around her. She wouldn’t mind getting to know TJ DeMille better. “The chances of a guy like him settling down are zero to nil. He travels the world and doesn’t really seem to care about much but moving on to his next assignment. Alone.” She sighed. “Always alone is like his personal motto.”

“And he’s got guardianship of a twelve-year-old girl?” Ari asked, her voice rising with incredulity.

Gussie nodded. “She’s a sweet kid, too, so it’s really heartbreaking. I feel like taking the poor thing home myself.”

“Gus.” Ari narrowed her eyes. “She’s not a stray cat.”

Of course not, and Gussie had three of those at the moment.

“Get back to your hair,” Willow said. “What made you tell him?”

She pushed back the straight, black locks she wore today. “I don’t know. It gets to be a burden to cart around sometimes.”

Willow leaned forward. “You don’t have to cover it, you know.” It wasn’t the first time she’d made the suggestion. “There are ways to wear your hair that it’s barely noticeable.”

“Easy for you to say, woman with a mane of healthy hair and no scars.”

“None visible,” Willow corrected with a wry smile.

Ari was still shaking her head, though. “The burden that it becomes is exactly why I’m so intrigued. This photographer must have something incredibly special.”

“Many somethings. Head-to-toe somethings, as you will soon see. Trust me, hanging out with him—even hauling gazebos—is
not
a burden.”

Ari and Willow shared a look so lightning fast that Gussie almost missed it, but like always, she suspected she could follow the silent exchange pretty well.

“Look, you two should be thrilled I’m doing this wedding with him,” Gussie said. “It’ll get my dreams of styling for the pros out of my system and confirm that the Brides was absolutely the right move for me. He’s probably going to be a bear to work with, and I’ll realize that the job is not for me and I’m exactly where I’m happiest.”

Ari stood and walked to the window that looked out at one corner of the Casa Blanca parking lot, thinking before answering, as she often did. “You know what I’m going to say.”

This time, it was Gussie and Willow who exchanged the knowing look. “You are where the universe wants you to be,” they said in singsong harmony, imitating Ari.

“No, that’s not what I was going to say at all.”

“It’s not?” Willow laughed.

“Then what?” Gussie asked.

“I was going to say…is that
him
?”

“Who? Where?” Willow was up in a flash. “That guy?”

Gussie didn’t move from the table, listening to them coo.

“Look at that hair. It’s sexy,” Ari whispered. “I don’t usually like long hair, but…wow. It’s beautiful on him.”

“Hair? Look at his face,” Willow said.

“He has a face?” Ari asked, laughing. “I love a guy who rocks a plain white T-shirt and jeans.”

“Especially with all that ink. Very nice arms, I might add.”

Gussie fought the urge to join the ogling at the window. “Listen to you two. He’s just a guy.”

“Well, you might not have stripped down and gone swimming last night,” Ari said, “but I would bet good candy you will tonight.”

Gussie finally joined them at the window. “Bit-O-Honey?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m winning this one. Do you still have those Blue Raspberry Flipsticks? Put ’em on the table, woman.”

Gussie let her jaw drop. “I’m not betting my Flipsticks!”

“Why should you worry if you’re not going to lose? Keep your clothes on, and you’ll keep your ’Sticks.”

Gussie shifted her gaze to the man striding across the parking lot. He did rock a white T-shirt and old, snug jeans. But there it was, forever on his arm: always alone.

“Nah.” She attempted a shrug. “Not ’Stick-worthy.”

Ari choked again. “He’s totally ’Stick-worthy. And who are you kidding? Wig’s been off. Clothes are next. Come on, Gus. Make the bet.”

“Enough, you compulsive candy gamblers.” Willow held up her phone, indicating a message. “Rhonda and Hailey are on their way, too. It’s show time.”

Ari nudged Gussie. “Wager’s on the table for the rest of the day. Bit-O-Honey for you if you say no, Blue Raspberry Flipsticks for me if you give in to what you obviously want.”

Gussie narrowed her eyes in warning, then started to laugh. “Don’t you realize that either way, I win?”

“Of course I do. Why do you think I made that bet?”

* * *

Gussie’s hair was black today, a deep blue-black that made her eyes look like emeralds and her skin milky, with bright pink lips. The effect was…feminine. Sexy. Even in jeans and a loose top cropped high enough to show off a narrow midriff—or maybe because of that choice—she completely snagged his attention.

“You really don’t mind doing this?” she asked as they left the resort together, bound for some kind of gazebo-gathering errand.

“Not at all.” Frankly, he wanted to spend time with her.

Damn, boy. You better be careful.

“Excuse me?” she asked as she slipped out the door he held open for her.

Had he said that out loud?

“You said be careful?”

“Driving a van.” He covered by trying to tug the keys out of her hand. “I watched you on the road last night.”

She laughed. “That was a video game.” She held tight to the keys, digging the edge of a persimmon-colored nail into his skin. “And your license is expired. Sit in the passenger seat and enjoy the scenery.”

He snorted softly, giving up the fight.

She pointed to a white industrial-style van with a stylized Barefoot Brides logo on the side. “Don’t judge,” she ordered.

“Ah, the sweet life of a wedding photographer.”

At the door, she stopped, crossing her arms. The move deepened the cleavage that peeked out of the V-neck and forced him to fight the urge to look down and enjoy.

“You’re judging,” she said.

“I’m appreciating the scenery, as I was told.” He dragged his gaze from her body to her face, nice and slow. “No need to worry about my judgment or this job. I’m committed now.” He tapped her chin for the sheer pleasure of seeing the response in her bright green eyes. “Anyway, it might be fun.”

“Might? It
is
fun. I mean, if you even know how to have that.”

“What?” he asked. “I can have fun. I had a lot last night,” he admitted, placing his hand on the roof of the van, trapping her between his body and the vehicle. “You made a sad and sleepy house come alive.”

She stayed still, smiling at the compliment. “That’s good,” she said. “And that is what I promised to do in exchange for”—she notched her head to the van—“your photography services. So, like it or not, get in.”

Neither one of them moved, warmed by the sunshine and each other. “You know, if I’d been a smarter negotiator”—he inched closer to get a whiff of gardenia-sweet perfume—“Alex wouldn’t be the only one playing games with you.”

“I think you’re playing one right now.” She opened the door without breaking eye contact, lifting one brow. “Aren’t you, Tommy?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “But if I did, would you let me drive?”

“Nope.” She slipped out from under his arm, disappearing around the back of the van.
Damn
.

He climbed in and watched her do the same, settling into the driver’s seat with an air of authority that made him want to kiss her. Everything, in fact, made him want to kiss her. And he might, soon.

“So, did Alex come out of her shell a little after last night?” she asked. “Did we accomplish the mission?”

“For a while, yes.” He blew out a frustrated exhale as she turned the ignition. “I thought we’d made a breakthrough, but this morning she still hates me.”

Gussie considered that, shaking her head. “I actually think she’s a little scared of you and maybe sensitive to how much of an inconvenience she is for you, but she doesn’t hate you.”

“Scared of me? I guess that’s possible. When I arrived for the funeral, she looked at me like I was a tattoo-covered monster. But I’ve never said she was an inconvenience. Hell, I’m not
that
much of a monster.” Was he? Had she picked up the vibe? “When she found out that her mother’s will left her in my care…” He shook his head, remembering the look of horror on her face. “Call it terror or hate, but she doesn’t want me there any more than I want to be there.”

She gave him a sympathetic look before pulling out of the lot and heading down the beach road toward the mainland. “So, what are you going to do?”

“Long term, I have no idea. Short term? Well, I offered her a trip to the south of France and she said no.”

“
What
?”

Exactly. “I’m getting pressured to accept a job in Nice,” he said. “And by pressured, I mean they’re laying on cash, an apartment in town, an au pair for Alex, and a private jet for transportation to and from the Riviera.”

“And she doesn’t want to go?” She sounded incredulous.

“She acted like I was going to drag her to a drug lord’s house in the Colombian jungles and sell her into slavery.”

“Oh.” She shook her head. “The poor kid. She’s probably as confused as you are, and maybe France seems like a long, long way from home.”

“It’s only for a couple of weeks, before school starts.” He turned from the water view to the one as lovely next to him. “I really wanted this job.”

“What is it?”

“A commercial campaign for LaVie, the bottled-water company.” As they drove off Mimosa Key and over the long causeway that connected the island to the mainland, he told her about the shoot, frequently interrupted by the kinds of questions someone who understood fashion photography would ask, and he enjoyed answering.

“You’re going to kill that assignment,” she said as she pulled into an office complex. “It’s kind of like what you did with that whole ‘flawless diamonds make flawless women’ thing for DeBeers.”

“Wow, you really do know my work.”

“I did a huge blog on that campaign,” she said. “It was styled perfectly. Bronwyn St. Marie, right? She’s awesome.”

The Aussie stylist was one of the best, but he was stuck on a different point she’d made. “You really do blog about my photographs.”

She cringed a little. “I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of stalker.”

“Not at all. I’m flattered.”

“Sounds like I’ll want to blog again on this LaVie campaign.”

LaVie. Damn, he wanted that job even more now. “But I can’t take the assignment if Alex won’t go.”

“Maybe she’ll change her mind,” Gussie said. “In fact, if you think it would help, I’d be happy to tell her she’d be missing out on the trip of a lifetime.”

“I bet she’d listen to you, but you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” she told him. “And if that doesn’t work, she can stay with me while you go.”

He inched back, the offer genuinely surprising him. “Are you serious?”

“For a couple of weeks? I don’t see why she couldn’t play Mario Kart at my apartment as well as she can at her house.”

For a second, he didn’t respond, but stared at her while a dozen different thoughts popped through his mind. How could he turn down an offer like that? Would Alex want to stay with a virtual stranger? How easily could he arrange it? Would it be legal? Or fair to her? But one thought overrode all the others, the one he had to voice.

“You might be one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met.”

Her eyes warmed at the compliment. “Nah, I’m just…”

He waited for her to finish. To say she was trying to pay him back for the wedding or she was lonely or she needed someone to watch her dogs. Something that wasn’t purely altruistic and giving because…because that kind of person terrified him.