Picture Perfect Wedding (11 page)

“Cut grass dries and becomes bailed hay. It’s important we cut it during a hot, dry spell and we rake it so it loses all its moisture before we roll it or bale it. Wet bales can smolder and then spontaneously combust.” He gave her a teasing smile. “Burning down the barn isn’t something any farmer recommends.”

Spontaneously combust.

His words and his smile took her instantly back to the sunflower field. To the magical feel of the slow burn of his lips against hers and the exhilarating moment that touch had ignited the pure, insatiable burning lust in both of them. The memory sparked rafts of quivering tingles, which shot through her like a meteor shower. She clenched her thighs together, hard. Very hard, in a desperate attempt to squash the darting and delicious throbbing that was beating a steady tattoo of need deep down inside her.

Did he realize he’d just described their kiss?

“...freshly chopped green grass or haylage gets stored in—” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder, “—polyethylene bags.”

Possibly not.
God
,
she had it bad.

“...chemistry happens and in a few months we have cow food.”

Chemistry.
The thing that so often vibrated between them, although tonight it seemed the vibrating was restricted just to her. She fought to get herself under control so she sounded intellectually interested rather than breathy and aroused. After all, she was on a “getting to know Luke” mission.

“Wow.” It sounded deep and strangled and she cleared her throat. “I had no idea there was so much science in hay.”

He grinned. “There’s science in everything. I’ll turn the lights off so you can get that shot of the moon.”

She didn’t follow. “The moon?”

Surprise flitted across his face. “That’s what you’re out here for, isn’t it? The call of the full moon on a clear night and a perfect photo opportunity?”

The call of you.

“Sure, yes, absolutely.” She quickly opened the legs of her tripod as if she had come to do just that. “Only don’t turn the lights out just for me. I can wait.”

He shut down the generator and the light slowly faded. “This job’s finished and I’m done.”

He sounded weary and she wasn’t surprised given she’d heard him leave the cottage around six this morning. “For a few hours anyway. I’m guessing the cows always need milking.”

“They do.”

A shaft of moonlight put his face in half shadow and half light. It was like looking at a black-and-white photo and she swallowed at the haunted look it gave him. Then he moved and the light shifted, vanquishing the look and she was left wondering if she’d imagined it.

She pulled her gaze away from him and concentrated on setting up the photo he was expecting her to take. The silver rays of the moon bounced off the grove of trees on the far boundary of the now slashed field, creating a thousand tones between the iridescent white of the moon and the inky black of the trees. She wasn’t used to a lack of artificial light pollution and she was in awe at the sight. “The moon’s a massive LED.”

He nodded with a smile. “It’s harvesting light.”

The long exposure finally came to an end, her camera signaling it with a distinctive click.

“May I see?” he asked.

She hesitated. “It’s going to look better on a computer screen where you can see all the nuances.”

“You’ll have to show me sometime.”

I’ll show you now.

Only, unlike last night when every statement he’d made had been a double entendre intended to get her naked and horizontal, tonight he sounded genuinely interested in seeing the photo, rather than her. As she unscrewed her camera from the tripod, she felt oddly let down.

He leaned against the enormous wheel of the tractor, his body relaxed and his expression interested. “Do you do much artistic photography?”

His words lifted a scab on a wound which was often inflicted on wedding photographers. “All my photography is artistic,” she snapped more sharply than she’d intended.

“Have I hit a sore spot?” he asked mildly.

“No.” She collapsed her tripod. “You’ve only exposed your ignorance.”

He didn’t bite at her barb. Instead he shifted his weight and said, “So, enlighten me.”

Her head jerked up and she scanned his face for derision but found only curiosity. Her hands fluttered out in front of her. “Sorry. It’s just I get weary of the jokes like what’s the difference between a wedding photographer and a monkey.”

His mouth twitched. “I’m assuming you don’t want me to try and guess the answer?”

She grimaced. “No, thank you.”

He pushed off the tractor and reached in behind the seat, before handing her a chocolate bar. As he pulled down the wrapper he said, “So why do you choose to photograph weddings?”

She thought about how everything could be lost in a heartbeat. How with one decision a bank account could be emptied and a home could cease to exist. How lie upon lie from a father could rip a family apart, destroying everything except poverty, heartache and dislocation. Her laugh sounded tight. “Too easy. They’re happy. They’re filled with joy and love and I consider it an honor to be allowed to capture those emotions for perpetuity.”

A streak of disbelief rode across his cheeks. “There have to be levels of happiness though, right? Some weddings would be happier than others.”

She pondered the question. “I suppose so, but I can honestly say my brides always look so happy they glow.”

“And the grooms?” he teased. “Do they all look happy?”

A collage of grooms flitted across her mind. “Some have looked a little shell-shocked, but that’s part of my job too.”

“Making people shell-shocked?” His rich, bass laugh floated around her like the smooth, velvet tones of a mellow red wine. “I can see that. The cows and I were certainly surprised the day you arrived.”

She gave a wry smile. “And no doubt you think you’re hilarious.”

His face creased in a smile. “The cows laugh at my jokes. So back to your job and shell-shocked grooms?”

Again, his genuine interest surprised her but she loved talking about her work to anyone who would listen and right now, Luke was a captive audience. “Relaxing people is part of my job. When you take the time to put people at ease, you’re gifted with moments of such honest emotion that it can hurt.

“Hurt?”

“Yeah.” She nodded her affirmation. “But in a good way. You know that clutch you get in your chest and you don’t know if you’re going to laugh or cry? Like that, only it gives me such a rush when I know I’ve taken a picture that immortalizes that.”

“It’s obvious you love your job.”

He sounded almost wistful, which was unexpected. “I do love it. It’s the sort of job you have to love to do it well.” She thought about the Memmy and crossed her fingers. “And you know, I dare anyone to argue with me that a bride photographed in a sea of sunflowers isn’t artistic.”

He pushed off the tractor, his face animated. “So
that’s
the deal with the sunflowers. You’re after professional recognition.”

How could she have ever thought this man was a yokel? His brain whirred so fast she could almost hear it. “More like client recognition. Photos like that attract more customers.”

He nodded slowly. “Still, they have to see your photos to know about them.”

She loved that he understood and unlike two days ago, she now felt safe telling him about the Memmy. “True. It’s why I have a website and a blog to complement word of mouth, but I’m going to enter the best of Connie’s photos into a competition. If it’s judged one of the finalists, it will give me national exposure.”

His eyes twinkled in the moonlight. “So you do want that photo as much as that crazy bride?”

She gave him a mock punch in the arm. “She’s not
crazy.
”

“So you keep telling me.” Laughter played on his lips but his eyes remained unconvinced as he captured her hand.

It seemed the most natural thing in the world to move in against him and she let her forehead rest on his chest. Breathing in deeply, she filled her nostrils with the scent of hard, physical work, freshly cut grass and vibrant, pulsating life. All of it was Luke and he made every guy she’d ever been with seem frail and anemic.

She could have stayed there forever but with her face pressing into his chest he couldn’t kiss her. Well, sure, he could press kisses into her hair, but she didn’t want that. She wanted his lips on hers and more. Very slowly, she tilted her head back.

He stared down at her, meeting her gaze with a quiet,
oh yeah
smile. It was the start of the moment that dictated they both move inexorably toward each other, but the only movement she could perceive from him was the rise and fall of his chest under hers. She paused and waited for him to catch up. Waited for one hand to slide around the back of her neck, for his other to angle her chin while his head inclined closer to hers, and then for his lips to part.

Her blood pounded so hard and fast with eager anticipation that her vision swam. Every part of her screamed
kiss me.

His hand, which held hers, opened and he slowly laced his fingers between hers.

What?
Kiss me.
Now!

Frustration poured oil on need. What was he doing? More to the point, what was he
not
doing? Building anticipation was one thing but her body now teetered on the brink of pain-induced withholding and she needed action. With a puff of dissatisfaction that he was so slow to respond, she pulled her hand from his, rose on her toes, slid both her hands against his cheeks, angled his mouth and kissed him.

Her lips pressed against his and the slight scratch of his top lip grazed hers as she coaxed him to open his mouth to her. Chocolate, coffee and heat flowed through her, spinning currents of delight eddying through her, feeding her need for this man like oxygen fuels fire.

His fingers delved into her hair.

Yes
.
Finally.
Now he was part of the kiss and her mind spun off on a promised bliss ride.

His fingers tugged slightly on her head as he pulled back and a shot of evening air zipped between them. Her eyes flew open.
What?
His lips, which a moment ago had been doing wondrous things to her, were now forming words. Words she was having trouble decoding.

“Erin, you’re confusing me.”

She blinked. Twice. The auto response was all she could manage because her brain was still off partying elsewhere. She’d kissed him. How could that be confusing? Oh, God, was it a bad kiss? Had she done it wrong?

Shut up.
“How...why am I confusing you?”

He gave an exaggerated shrug. “You’re contradicting yourself.”

“I am?” She tried to muster enough functioning synapses to recall what she’d said during their conversation that may have contradicted what she’d just done. She got nothing
.
“I don’t understand.”

He sighed as if she was a slow learner and he had to be the one to patiently explain everything. “I didn’t think you wanted us to do this.”

“This?”

“Yes, this.” One of his hands clamped on to her behind and pulled her hard against him—legs lining legs, hips matching and her breasts flattened against his chest. Then his tongue lazily roamed her mouth as if he had all the time in the world.

Her entire body melted into a puddle of need and she sagged against him, knowing that if he stepped away now, she’d fall.

He raised his head and gave her a soulful look as if he was the injured party. “Now I’m sure you can see my confusion about kissing.”

No
,
sorry
,
seems perfect to me.
“It’s not totally clear to me but perhaps another kiss will make it clearer.” Her fingers slid between the snaps on his shirt. “I’m fine with that.”

“That’s very generous of you.” His breath brushed her face. “The thing is, what’s puzzling me is that last night you told me you only wanted to talk.”

Chagrin blew through her like a Minnesota blizzard. “You weren’t exactly sober.”

He had the temerity to grin. “I wasn’t exactly drunk either.”

She narrowed her gaze, searching his face. “There was more than just Jack and sex on your mind. You objected to my cow pajamas saying they reminded you of the farm.”

A muscle twitched near his eye but he held her gaze. “If they’d had cats on them I would have objected, saying they needed to come off before they upset the dogs. I just wanted you out of them.”

She shivered as a tingle of such overwhelming longing rolled through her. He wound a strand of her hair around his finger very, very slowly, and all the while the pad of his finger caressed her cheek. Her mind, halfway to returning to cognizant thought, did a sharp U-turn back to bliss.

He kept talking. “The thing is, I knew exactly what I wanted. Something I’d made clear to you in the sunflower field. You however, seem to be going back and forth, being undecided and reading stuff into off-the-cuff comments. I don’t want to add to your uncertainty.” His hands dropped to her upper arms and he gently pushed him away from her.

Deep down inside her something sobbed. “I—”

“Shh.” He raised his forefinger to his lips.

“Yes, but—”

“It’s okay.” He tilted his head. “I understand. When you know what you want, come find me.”

He whistled for Mac and swung up into the tractor. Maggie-May barked.

Erin stood stunned, her mind scrabbling to play catch-up and then, courtesy of the cabin light, she caught Luke’s expression—pure, unadulterated mischief.

He winked at her and then the slow chug of the diesel engine filled the air as the tractor drove off.

Maggie-May whined.

With a clunking thud everything fell into place and she buzzed with fury and embarrassment. Luke had wound her up until she was prepared to do just about anything with him and then he’d deliberately walked away.

“Come on, Maggie-May. No man or dog is worth it.” She slung her camera bag over her shoulder with so much force it hit her on the ass. Yes, last night, she’d said no but he’d been the one who’d sought her out and she hadn’t deliberately enticed him and aroused him to the point of insanity.