Love Out of Focus

by Rebecca Connolly

  Jenna grinned at her warmly, as did her cousins and aunt and uncle. “And this is our fantastically talented photographer for this entire shindig and my very favorite cousin, Mallory Hudson.”

  Mal felt her cheeks heat, but she smiled all the same. “Come on, Jenna,” she said. “I’m your only cousin.”

  Jenna giggled and winked. “Makes you even more special then, Mal. She’s doing us all a massive favor by being here, y’all. Can’t believe we got her. So if you see her around, smile pretty and be nice.”

  Everyone laughed, and there was faint applause, while Lucas whistled and yelled, “Yeah, Mal-Mal!”

  Mal cleared her throat. “Actually, pretending I’m not here would be best. If I need you to look at me or do something particular, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, just act natural—except for Lucas.”

  They all laughed again, and Lucas saluted her and loosened his tie. She gave him a warning look, which only made everyone laugh more, and he raised his hands in surrender. She smiled and looked around the room, fiddling with her camera. She hated being the center of attention, so the sooner they could move on to the others, the better she’d feel.

  Hunter was looking at her again, and his expression was hard to read, but he almost seemed impressed. Or intrigued. Or unsettled.

  Or maybe she was just impressed and intrigued and unsettled by him. And very, very uncomfortable. The tingly sort of uncomfortable that makes you fidget and fuss with your hair and imagine you’ve got food in your teeth. And makes you suddenly feel as if your neck is sunburned, your toes ache, and your skin is too tight.

  Yeah, she was uncomfortable to say the least.

  She retreated behind her camera, her only shield from his intensity, and tried to remember the right way to breathe.

  “And as a bonus, we got her assistants, Taryn and Dan, as well,” Jenna continued, making both of their days, if not lives. “So, again, be nice and smile pretty, or they might edit the pictures of you to look a bit wonky.”

  That seemed to terrify the girls, who all gaped at each other.

  A warning. That was good. Hopefully they wouldn’t need more.

  “Is that everyone?” Tom asked, looking around quickly. “Yep. Okay, dinner is served!”

  At that, the catering staff of the lodge came out of the kitchen with the most incredible array of barbecue and classic southern comfort foods Mal had ever seen or smelled, arranged on steaming trays. And then she looked again and saw that one of the catering staff was a familiar face from Tennessee. Which meant the food was—

  “My baby Mallory Jo!” Aunt Cady broke through her thoughts, suddenly in front of her and pulling her into a tight embrace. She smelled exactly the same, like a mixture of Victoria’s Secret perfume and Tide with a splash of honey. Her hair, miraculously still naturally blonde, had been teased to proper southern height, and it wasn’t moving, but she was just as warm and adorable as Mal remembered.

  She hugged her back just as tightly. “Hi, Aunt Cady,” she said into her shoulder. She laughed. “You’re really tall tonight. What shoes are you wearing?”

  Aunt Cady laughed merrily and stepped back, displaying her coral heels for Mal. “This darling designer Jenna told me about. You ever heard of a cat named Jimmy Choo? Fancy stuff, but I like it.”

  Taryn choked on hearing Jimmy Choo referred to as a cat, but Mal grinned. That was Aunt Cady to a tee.

  “They look great,” Mal told her.

  “Baby, I haven’t see you in ages,” Cady scolded, looking her over. “You are so skinny. You better eat some of that grub over there.”

  Mal smiled. “I wanted to ask you about that. How did you get Hal Barney’s to come up here?”

  “Do you think Hal would ever refuse your aunt?” Uncle Drake asked as he came over and looped his arm around his wife’s waist. “I think he’d give her the recipes if she asked with a smile. A pretty woman like her is just dangerous to a man.”

  “Oh, stop it,” Cady said with a smile, pushing at his chest.

  Uncle Drake smiled back, then pulled Mal in for a hug and a kiss on her cheek. “Hi, baby.”

  “Hi, Uncle Drake,” Mal replied, catching the familiar whiff of Old Spice and peppermint. “You’re grayer than I remember.”

  “It’s dashing. Or so your aunt tells me.”

  Her uncle held her close for longer than she expected, and when he released her, she looked up at him with a smile. He returned it with a grin, his eyes crinkling. “Missed you, kiddo,” he said.

  She suddenly had trouble swallowing. “I’ve missed you too,” she replied, her voice raw. She was surprised at how sincerely she meant it.

  He touched her cheek fondly. “Smile, hon. We got Hal Barney’s, and Lucas got us a keg of Doc Porter’s root beer. If that’s not a happy thought, nothin’ is.”

  Mal laughed and hugged her uncle again, then made her way to the food line.

  “Your uncle is the most attractive man over fifty I have ever seen,” Taryn whispered as they each took a plate. “What is it with those bloodlines, and how do I dip my toe in the gene pool?”

  “Are your hormones always this raging?” Dan asked in exasperation as Mal barked a laugh.

  “Yes,” Taryn said simply. “It’s exhausting.” She looked at Mal again. “Mallory Jo? I thought your middle initial was S.”

  “It is,” Mal said as she picked up a warm buttered roll. “But Aunt Cady has called me Mallory Jo since I was four, so it stuck.”

  Taryn smiled. “Cute! Little Mallory Jo running around and eating … what is this, anyway?”

  Mal grinned. “This is Hal Barney’s barbecue. The best food in the entire world, and it’s from this place almost smack-dab in between Knoxville and Nashville, and we used to get it all the time, isn’t that right, Tucker?” she said, turning to smile at the familiar face standing by the meat.

  The big man smiled, his gold tooth glinting in the light. “Sure did, Miss Mallory. Best part of the year was seeing all y’all come in and eat us out of house and home.”

  “We did not!” She laughed, spooning more sides onto her plate.

  Tucker raised a thick brow. “Oh really?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh fine, so we did. But only because it’s so good.”

  He chuckled warmly. “Sure is, Miss Mallory. Sure is. What can I get you?”

  Mal opened her mouth to reply when she heard some of the girls whispering nearby.

  “Don’t they have any idea how bad this food is for you?” Bethany said to Brittany and Sophie. “The calories alone are shocking.”

  “Oh, what do you expect?” Sophie said with a sneer. “This is a very backwoods, country-loving hick group, despite their money and fame. I’m surprised we don’t have checkered tablecloths and plastic silverware.”

  Bethany whimpered. “There’s not even a salad. What am I supposed to eat?”

  “Just say you’re not hungry. You can have a salad when we get back to the house.”

  “I wish they would have considered this. We have dresses to fit into, and I’m not about to have a food baby.”

  “Is it going to be like this all week?”

  Mal’s jaw tightened, and her grip on her plate became more of a clench. She met Caroline’s eyes and saw that her cousin had heard and was furious. The girls had been speaking in low voices, but not low enough. She didn’t know who else had heard, but she knew how mortified Aunt Cady would be if she found out. Mal lowered her chin enough to assure Caroline she would do something, then turned back to Tucker.

  “Brisket, please, Tucker,” she said in a calm but carrying voice. “A bit extra, if you don’t mind. I’m starving. And lots of sauce.”

  She picked up the spoon for the baked beans she’d just loaded on her plate, looked over at the girls standing nearby, who were watching now, and pointedly spooned another helping on top of the rest. Then got extra potato salad as well.

  “And a half rack, please,” she added to Tucker. “You know how I love ribs.”

  Tucke
r was grinning in delight. “Sure do, Miss Mallory. And they’ve got that honey-barbecue glaze on them that you love.”

  Mal smiled and tilted her head. “Make it a full, then,” she said. “I never pass up the honey-barbecue glaze.”

  Tucker winked at her and did as she asked.

  It was a ton of food, but she would make herself sick if she had to. And she would really enjoy doing so.

  The girls looked disgusted with her, but she met their gazes and walked over to an open table. Caroline squeezed her hand as she walked by, and Mal smiled tightly, then set her stuff at the table and sat down.

  Taryn and Dan joined her, their plates as loaded down as hers. She looked at them in surprise.

  Taryn shrugged, though her cheeks were pink. “I like barbecue, and I hate mean girls. We’re pigging out tonight.”

  Dan looked unapologetic. “I always eat like this. I’m already looking forward to seconds.”

  Mal grinned at her assistants. “You guys already get bonus points.”

  They gave each other a high five.

  Lucas was suddenly there with a frosted tankard of root beer for each of them. “For my absolute favorite table, I will also tell you that there is a hidden stash of peach cobbler in the back. When we’re done here, you signal me, and we’ll go.”

  Mal groaned half in delight, half in agony. “A food coma is coming,” she moaned, looking up at her cousin.

  He smiled a rare sincere smile. “You deserve it,” he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head. Then the roguish air was back, and he adjusted his checkered collar. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must feed this glorious body of mine.”

  He left before Mal could reply.

  “If only he were lying.” Taryn sighed as she picked up a piece of fried chicken.

  “Shut up,” Dan ordered around a mouthful of potato salad.

  Hunter stared, knowing it was blatant, but he couldn’t help it. There was something about that girl that drew his attention. She looked like farm girl who’d been pitied by a rich family and brought in for a warm meal, but she was so natural and easy. She wasn’t intimidated by any of this. Her actions just now had proven that.

  Could she really eat all that food?

  He’d always appreciated girls who could eat without shame. But she was a hundred pounds, if that; there was absolutely nowhere for that food to go.

  She was talking with her assistants now, laughing again. He loved her laugh. She threw her head back and laughed with her whole body, thrilling in the joy of the moment. She didn’t try to be delicate or reserved; she wasn’t fake or overly boisterous; she wasn’t anything but what she was. Warm and natural. And adorable. It stirred something in him, and he wasn’t sure he liked it very much.

  Except he did like it.

  A lot.

  He shifted uncomfortably against the windowsill, unsure whether he was frowning or smiling.

  Mallory Hudson. He should have made the connection when he’d seen her name on the contract, but he’d somehow missed it. The photographer was Jenna’s cousin. She would be everywhere in this wedding and everywhere in his resort. And she wasn’t just the photographer; she was family.

  Did that make this better or worse?

  “Stop gawking,” Tom’s friend Reed said as he came over.

  Hunter gave him a look. He’d never been especially fond of Reed, but he was better than Paul, who was stuck in the glory days of fraternity life, and Reed wasn’t a bad guy. He’d simply never grown up.

  “Gawking?” Hunter repeated. “At what?”

  Reed raised a brow. “I’m not stupid, McIntyre. You’re staring at that chick over there. The cute one.”

  Hunter remained stone faced, silently thanking his father for teaching him how to keep his expression from changing. “Was I?”

  Reed snorted and leaned against the wall, looking at the table now. “Yep. You were. You think that skirt of hers is a real tartan?”

  Stone faced wouldn’t work now. He frowned and looked over at the table again, 99.7 percent sure that Mallory hadn’t been wearing a skirt. And he was right. Her assistant—Taryn, if he remembered—was wearing a skirt, and it certainly could have been a tartan, but he failed to see why that was an interesting point.

  Reed thought Taryn was the cute one? Moron.

  She wasn’t unattractive, he would admit, but if there was only one cute girl at that table, it would not be her.

  Reed was talking again, but it sounded more like the humming of a particularly loud dishwasher, and Hunter stopped listening. He was so grateful that Tom hadn’t forced him to stay in the house with the rest of the guys. He liked Tom and his brothers a great deal and wouldn’t have minded spending time with them, but a house filled with the eternal frat boys and Lucas Hudson would be too much. He’d stay up at his own place, where he could think and be without interference from anyone else.

  Mallory gnawed on a rib, sauce on one cheek, loose hair behind her ear, giggling at something her assistant said, and his heart and stomach lurched.

  “I’m getting food,” he muttered to the still-talking Reed and pushed off the wall.

  He was suddenly starving for ribs.

  Chapter 4

  Hunter woke up before the sunrise the next morning, which wasn’t unusual for him, even if it was annoying. It didn’t matter. He’d just drive down to the lake and take a single scull out for a chilly morning row. He could use the workout.

  He put on his sweats and a hoodie as well as a knit cap and called the morning desk clerk to request breakfast at the lodge later. He might as well check in with them after he was done to see whether he needed to calm any fussy guests or locals, as they hadn’t completely shut down the resort for the wedding. Or he could check on any repairs or do them himself or … give a lengthy resort tour to a certain photographer.

  He grunted and grabbed his shoes, tying them frantically. He really needed this workout—anything to clear his head.

  The air was even colder than he had expected, and he shivered as he got into his truck. It would have to be a really good row to warm him up, and the sun wouldn’t come over the mountains for a while, even as the morning lightened. But once it did, the day would be warm, just as it had been lately. He loved these mornings and had spent a fair number of predawn hours on the lake with his father and grandfather. Lately he went by himself.

  There was nothing like it.

  The pavement was wet with dew, and the winding curves had less traction than normal. It wasn’t a particularly easy drive normally, but on mornings like this … He predicted he’d have at least two calls about tourists having trouble with the sharp curves or incline. Once things dried out later, it would be fine. But right now—

  Something bright and white appeared around the curve, and he gasped and slammed on the brakes, the wheels screaming against the wet pavement. He stared out through the windshield, adrenaline racing through him.

  Mallory was on the edge of the road, in a white coat and black leggings, worn-out tennis shoes, and fleece earmuffs, with two cameras around her neck, a satchel across her body, and a thermos in her hand. She stared at him with wide eyes. She was a good twenty-five yards from him, if not more. But the way the truck lights had caught her …

  He could have killed her.

  He rubbed his hands over his face and got out of the truck, his fear turning into rage the moment his feet hit the pavement.

  “Nice braking,” she said with a smile as he approached, oblivious to his fury. “New tires?”

  “What were you thinking?” he barked, shoving his hood back and coming to stand directly in front of her. “What, exactly, possessed you to wander around in the woods in the dark? I could have killed you!”

  Her brows snapped together. “Yeah, your tank there would have made roadkill out of me,” she drawled sarcastically. “Speed limits mean anything to you?”

  “I was going the speed limit,” he retorted. “The roads are terrible in wet weather, no matter how f
ast you go, but I’m a lot smarter than that. And it’s a Dodge Ram, not a tank, and you being roadkill is not funny.”

  “Who’s laughing?” she asked, tilting her head.

  He exhaled heavily, his breath coming out like fog and his irritation melting away under her influence. “Look,” he said slowly, deciding to try for calm, “it’s not safe for you to be wandering around in the dark, especially with drivers who don’t know these roads. Luckily, I do, but this isn’t a good idea.”

  Mallory sighed and adjusted her weight. “I’m wearing a white jacket with reflector strips, and I’m sticking to main trails. What is the problem?”

  Hunter groaned and put a hand to his suddenly aching head. She didn’t get it, and he didn’t have the energy to educate her. Plus, she was looking especially cute right now. He should have shaved. He shook his head with a sigh. “What are you doing up here this early anyway?”

  She held up her camera with a shrug. “Photographer. I wanted to catch the sunrise, and views are limited at the Hen House.”

  He coughed a surprise burst of laughter at that, though the term was perfect. She grinned at hearing the sound.

  That was enough of that.

  “You’re not dressed warmly enough,” he pointed out in what was supposed to be a scolding tone.

  “Thank you,” she said, giving him a sardonic look. “I figured that out about thirty minutes ago. Tomorrow I’ll be better.”

  “You’re doing this more?” he asked, torn between horrified and impressed.

  She nodded and pushed her ponytail behind her. “Probably every morning. Every sunrise is different, and I can find dozens of places to get shots.”

  He slowly shook his head. “If you manage not to die, it will be a miracle,” he muttered.

  She only shrugged. “Well, then I’ll be a martyr for my art, and my pictures will be published to wide acclaim, so that works too.”

  He stared at her for a second, hands on his hips. She was the most unusual woman he had ever met. And it was obvious she wasn’t going to listen to him, which meant there was only one thing to do. He exhaled loudly and started back for the truck. “Come on,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll drive you.”