I wasn’t the squeamish type. I’d seen plenty of mangled limbs in my time in the hospitals and working with people with prosthetics. I always felt grateful that I was whole. But that didn’t mean I thought the scars of others were ugly.
Peter wanted shots of Knox helping me onto the rocks, Knox pulling me or carrying me onto the rocks. The shots of us were tricky. They had to be filmed so that only Knox’s right hand was visible. My cosmetic hand had to be positioned to hold Knox’s. It took several shots to get it right.
The day had warmed, but evening was falling, and the temperatures along with it. The shadows were long and beautiful and the lighting flattering and gorgeous. The stones felt cold and smooth, but sturdy and safe beneath my feet. The drone hovered around us. We posed on the two smaller rocks closest to shore.
“A couple of shots on the big rock?” I asked, feeling brave and invigorated—and safe with Knox and his surefootedness beside me.
Fish were jumping in the river around us. I wanted to take a closer look and leaned over.
Knox caught me around my waist. “Careful.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“You don’t have the best track record.”
That was true.
We took a few more shots. Another fish jumped, and another.
I carefully stepped to the edge of the rock. “Look! So many fish. It’s awesome.”
Just as I started to stand up straight, there was a squeal and a flutter of wings. An osprey—it was huge—flew right at me, startling me. I reflexively covered my head with my hands. And lost my footing. I tried to get my balance, screamed, and reached for Knox.
He reached out to grab me with his mangled left hand, which was closest to me. I swiped at it, caught it, and lost my grip. Without a complete set of fingers to clamp around me…
The next thing I knew, I was in the water. It was so cold on impact that it took my breath away. I had to fight the urge to gasp and draw in breath. I was amazingly calm. I looked up toward the surface. No confusion. I knew which way was up. My veil and the skirt of my wedding dress floated ethereally above me for an instant. The dress slowly sank and bobbed around me in the water. I brushed it aside.
The rock was right in front of me. I’d fallen in upriver of it. All I had to do was pop to the surface and let the current carry me to it. Someone would give me a hand up from there.
I kicked, calmly but powerfully, and parted the water with my arms. A few strokes and I should be at the surface. My cosmetic arm was unwieldy, making it harder than it should be. I’d never really managed to learn to swim well with it. But it was suddenly clumsier than it should have been. My fall must have broken the seal of my arm to my prosthetic. I wasn’t making any progress toward the surface. The first swell of panic hit.
The wedding dress, heavy to begin with, was soaked through and now weighing me down.
As I looked up toward the fading light, I saw Knox’s hand in the water. Distorted by the optics of the water, his shadow looked surreal. He was on his belly on the rock, stretching his arm into the water, trying to find me.
I reached for him, desperate as my lungs burned. I wanted to breathe. He caught me by my cosmetic arm. It came off in his hand. And I began to sink. As I pulled and struggled toward the surface, my dress caught on a snag. I tugged at it vigorously and frantically. With one hand, I’d never be able to tear it free or work the zipper in the back of the dress.
Knox
I stared at Callie’s arm for half a second, stunned and paralyzed. Holding someone’s arm, even a cosmetic one, was unreal. I tossed it aside on the suit jacket I’d shrugged off. I kicked off my shoes.
Her dress, her damn dress, was weighing her down. She didn’t have the strength to fight it. In a few more minutes, she’d develop hypothermia and go into shock.
On shore, the crew was mobilizing to help. Peter, the hairdresser, and several of the women were hustling onto the rocks and looking for any kind of hook to throw to Callie. There wasn’t time to wait for them.
I braced myself and jumped into the water. Bracing is one thing, but there was nothing that could prepare me for the frigid shock of the water.
I reached Callie in seconds. The water was only about twenty feet deep. My plan was to propel her to the surface and hand her off to one of the crew who was racing to help us. As I looked up, I saw Peter’s shadow above us.
I grabbed Callie and motioned my intentions. She pointed toward her dress. It was caught on a massive fallen log. I dove to release it. Tugged. Pulled. The dress, the damn dress, was made of high-quality fabric that would not tear. I didn’t have my knife on me. And there were a thousand buttons down the back.
Callie motioned desperately to the back of her dress, making weird motions in the water. I finally understood. It had a zipper. The buttons were camouflage. Undressing her like this hadn’t been one of my fantasies. Fortunately, the zipper was high quality too, and gave way, unzipping easily even in the water. As soon as the zipper slid down, Callie popped up and out of the dress.
I gave her a shove up. Peter and the hairdresser grabbed her arms and pulled her out of the water as I popped to the surface. Peter handed Callie off to the hairdresser to help her to shore. He gave me a hand up. Again, my one-and-a-half-handedness slowed me down. I clasped his outstretched hand with my right hand. I was unable to grab his other hand with any kind of decent grip. He grabbed my left forearm and hauled me out of the water by sheer adrenaline.
Overhead, the drone buzzed. Right next to the spot I’d vacated in the water, a fish jumped. I hoped no osprey saw it. They’d caused enough trouble.
One of the assistants threw a blanket over me.
Peter slapped me on the back. “Quick thinking.”
“Her arm?” I looked around. It wasn’t on the rock. “Callie’s arm—”
Peter pointed. “We got it. Now come. Let’s get you back to shore so we can warm you up.”
“Where have I heard that before?” I said, but my focus was on Callie. “Is she all right? We have to get her out of those wet clothes.”
“I believe you already did,” Peter said.
As if to emphasize his words, the skirt of the wedding dress waved just below the surface. And I had a premonition of what my life would be like without her.
12
Callie
There had been a moment underwater, when my arm was gone and my dress was caught and I was signaling wildly to Knox, when my life flashed before my eyes. Not my life, exactly, but the life I could have with Knox. Or maybe it was the life I would have. If I lived. It was weird. I attributed it to lack of oxygen and the games that played with the brain. Either way, it left a powerful impression on me.
In the wardrobe tent, I stripped off the rest of my wet clothes, apologizing over and over about the dress, to the sympathetic replies and fussing of the crew. It wasn’t your fault. It was just a sample, not a one-of-a-kind. They won’t want it back anyway. Better that you’re still here. It’s replaceable. You’re not.
The wardrobe women toweled me off while one of them carefully dried my cosmetic arm and put it in its case. I was relieved I hadn’t lost it. They helped me dress in layers of bridal tees and sweatshirts from the morning shoot, so many layers that I felt like the abominable snowman’s bride. Someone brought me a steaming cup of tea. I wrapped my hands around it just as I heard Knox enter the men’s side of the tent.
“Is she all right? Where is she?”
The staff calmed him, too. “She’s all right. She’s okay.”
A paramedic squad arrived and looked me over, despite my assurances that I was fine. After an examination, they agreed with me. They wrapped me in a heated blanket, over my mound of sweatshirts, told me to take it easy and drink my hot tea, and go to emergency if I developed any problems. Through the thin walls of the tent, I heard another paramedic questioning and examining Knox and giving him the same advice. As the paramedics packed up, I wandered out of the tent.
Knox came out, wea
ring a blanket that was the twin of mine.
I tugged on my blanket. “Copycat.”
His answering grin and look of relief warmed me further. “Who are you calling a copycat? This is a unisex blanket. How do you know I wasn’t wearing it first?”
“Your paramedics were a step behind mine. I heard them through the tent walls.” I was so relieved to see him. If I’d known him better, if we’d had the relationship in my life flash forward, I would have thrown myself in his arms. Instead, I stood my ground.
He pulled back a corner of his blanket and flashed a groom sweatshirt at me. “And I seem to be in black groom attire to your white.”
He came up next to me and whispered, “I told them all these sweatshirts were unnecessary. It would be better for you and me to huddle together, naked skin against naked skin, to warm each other up.”
I raised an eyebrow, but the thought was enticing. “And what did they say?”
“They ignored my survival training in favor of their own experience.”
I looked at my feet to hide my amusement.
“What?” he said, standing right next to me.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” I said. “I owe you one.”
“And I’ll take it, believe me.” His swagger was back.
“I imagine you’ll try. Just don’t expect me to be your slave, owing this debt until I save your life.” With my one hand, I held the blanket tightly around me. “I’d prefer you didn’t come close to dying and need me to save you.”
He shrugged and got a look of machismo that conveyed he greatly doubted he’d ever need rescuing. It was adorable.
“But I have your undying gratitude and you’ll be forever in my debt,” he said.
“Of all the men to save me…”
Our eyes met. Did we really have a future together?
His face became serious. “You could settle our debt easily enough. After the shoot is over, let me take you out.”
I shook my head. “I should have put a few quid pro quos on the debt. I can’t—”
“I’m a good date,” he said. “I’ve been taught by a master how to treat women. And after tomorrow, there’s no professional conflict.”
I sighed. “But there is. As part of my contract with Pair Us, I can only date other clients or members that I’m matched with.”
His face fell.
Knox
Shot down in action. If I’d still been the ham I was in high school, I would have clutched my chest and doubled over, hoping for some sympathy. I wasn’t letting Callie off the hook. “You still owe me one,” I said, changing the subject.
That night in the hotel room, her rejection because of her obligation to Pair Us wouldn’t leave me alone. What the hell was I going to do about it?
I was still a client, technically, even though I was on hiatus. Did I play that client card?
I ran my fingers through my hair, stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, and gave myself a berating and a pep talk.
Why would Callie risk the opportunity of her career on you, loser? One-handed, you literally let her slip through your fingers.
My reflection had no good answer. The timing was so off that it would have been funny if I weren’t so lost to this woman. She haunted my dreams. After the scare of seeing her go into the river and not come up, I had to admit to myself that whatever was happening between us was deeper than just lust. In that flash of losing all opportunity with her, my heart stopped. If she were gone, no longer in the world, it wouldn’t put things back to the way they were before I met her. In the space of days, she’d changed me.
If Ashley and Lazer had hired her as a spokesmodel just a few weeks earlier. If I had agreed to go on this shoot in the first place. If, if, if…
Now I was in a hole for not mentioning my connection to Pair Us. I was such an idiot. I had a choice. I could call Ashley at any moment and beg her to take me off pause. Beg was the wrong word. Make her see how “compliant” I was being. Politely demand a date with Callie, telling Ashley how I connected with her. What I really wanted was to get Callie out of my system.
I frowned. No. Not yet. There was no need to call Ashley. I had one more day to impress Callie and get her to change her mind. One more day of shooting. One more day before she met with Ashley and was officially sent out on dates. I had to be devious. I had to be cunning. I had to think like a warrior. Fortunately, none of that was a problem for me.
I wasn’t needed at Flash until the afternoon. I spent the morning scheming. By the time I left for the shoot, I had a brilliant strategy. As soon as I got into hair, I began talking up going to Burl’s, one of the local bars near Flash, after work. The hookup bar, to be precise. I mentioned it to everyone as a great way to wrap up the shoot. I soon had a group of people who were in for an after-shoot drink. Everything was going to plan until I left wardrobe in my “groom”-embroidered bathrobe for the shoot and realized why I hadn’t been needed until now.
In the studio, Peter was just finishing up a shoot with some dude. The guy was wearing nothing but a tight pair of boxer briefs with “hers” embroidered on the butt. My eyes don’t usually pop out at the sight of another man, but he was the most perfectly shredded guy I’d ever seen. In person, anyway. Smooth chest. Every muscle in his back defined. He looked like he belonged on the “after” side of a fitness ad.
The young assistant with me was suddenly flustered. “Underwear models,” she said on a sigh. “I should be used to them by now.”
Butt model.
As if he’d heard her, he turned around. His face was just as handsome as the rest of him. He was so well endowed he had to be stuffed or wearing an extra-large cup. Not that I was looking. But it stood out, especially with “hers” written across it, too.
Yeah, we get the message.
“It’s a shame no one will see his face,” the assistant muttered to herself.
“Knox!”
I turned at the sound of Callie’s voice and had to fight to keep my eyes from popping out of my head and not drool. She was wearing a white lace bra and matching white “his” thong panties. I was suddenly glad I wasn’t the one in my underwear. My “hers” was suddenly ready for wedding night action.
“Life saver.” She gave me a quick hug with a cup in one hand. “We’re just finishing up here. Are you ready for our final day of shooting?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, mouth dry.
Shredded Butt came by and put a hand on Callie’s shoulder. I didn’t like the familiar look of possession on his face. “Nice work today. I’ll see you again?”
“I’m sure our paths will cross,” she said to him. “Bridal show in two weeks?”
He clicked his tongue and pointed at her. “Yeah. I’ll be there.” He gave a quick lift of his chin in my direction. “You’re next? Lucky guy. This beauty makes everyone look good.”
He kissed her on the cheek. “Good luck, babe. I’ll be watching for you on the runway. And you tell that matchmaker of yours that if they need a co-spokesman, I’m their man.”
I wanted to take a swing at that cocky guy and wipe that smug look off his face. I was smaller than he was, but I was faster and tougher than I looked.
Peter came over. “Knox. Glad you’re here. This way. Callie, put a robe on!” He said it in the tone of a protective father and laughed at his own joke.
One of the wardrobe people helped Callie into the matching bride robe to my groom. Peter positioned us and began shooting. Partway through, Justin Green sneaked in. When Peter saw him, he put his camera down.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” Justin said.
“PG check?” Peter laughed.
Justin rolled his eyes. “We run a family site. Mostly moms. I don’t want any customer complaints this time. No nipples. No…heads…showing. We’re not a lovers’ aids kind of site.”
“You’re too late.” Peter adjusted his camera. “You missed the hot underwear shoot. This is just demure robes. Nothing to see here.”
A demure robe shot.
My blood boiled.
Justin snapped his fingers. “I was in meetings during the underwear part of the program. You knew that, though.”
Peter put on a look of supreme innocence.
“You better not disappoint me, Peter. I’ll see this entire shoot before it goes live. I have veto power. I will use it.”
Peter saluted him.
“Don’t mind me,” Justin said. “I’ll stay and watch a few minutes. I have a little time to kill before my next meeting.”
Justin stayed for most of the shoot. Which was, admittedly, short. Peter shot us in four different robes, easy wardrobe changes and basic shots, and we were done.
Peter clapped me on the back. “Great job. You were a pro, Knox. And we all owe you our thanks for saving Callie and protecting Flash’s reputation as a safe place to work.”
“It’s been a pleasure.” I shook his hand, watching Callie out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t want to lose her without getting a chance to ask her to join us at Burl’s. Justin’s presence had put a damper on any flirting during this final shoot. “Callie!” I called after her as she turned to leave.
She paused for me to catch up to her.
“A group of us are going to Burl’s for drinks to celebrate the success of the shoot. Come with us.” I tried to sound casual, but I was nervous as hell. And driven by an almost insane attack of jealousy.
All those years of being in love with Ashley while Ruck was alive and I’d never felt this urgent sense of jealousy. Envy, yes. Plenty of it. This was different. I couldn’t allow Shredded Butt to move in on Callie.
Callie paused. “Well…”
My heart hammered. I gave her my pleading look. “You have to let me buy you a drink to celebrate your successes.”
“All right,” she said. “But Burl’s?” She shuddered. “The hookup bar? I’ll just have to make the most of it.”
“My car’s in the garage,” I said, stupidly happy and pleased with myself. “Let me give you a lift—”
Mr. Accidental Groom Page 11