Montana Darling (Big Sky Mavericks Book 3) (20 page)

She opened the door a couple of inches. “Ryker?”

A crashing sound made her reach for her phone. Was he in trouble? Who would break in? Except for his camera, he didn’t own anything worth stealing.

Breathless, Ryker rounded the corner and skated, stocking-foot, into the room. “You’re early. Sorry. But it’s all cool.”

Like the first night they’d been together, the image of Tom Cruise in Risky Business flashed across the screen in her mind and made her smile. Some of the tension she’d been lugging around all day slipped off her shoulders.

She stepped in cautiously. “What’s all cool?”

“You’ll see. No worries.”

He took her arm and leaned down to give her a kiss as he always did when she came to see him. “Hi. How was your day?”

“Okay,” she answered, still trying to figure out what was going on. This was not how their evening bootie calls had been working. She sensed he had a new agenda, but what was it? “Did you talk to Ren?”

He nodded. “Uh-huh. The Pittsburgh DA is looking into the case.”

“I mean about the lan—”

He interrupted her with a classic “time out” gesture. “Later. First, I want to show you what I’ve been working on all day.”

Instead of going to his room, he led her to the opposite door, which was open. She hesitated in the threshold. “Wow. You put together a whole photography studio today?” She smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Duh. I helped you carry in the boxes last night. This is amazing.”

The plain room had been transformed. Two upside-down white umbrellas were attached to big, bright lights on either side of the daybed. Today, the bed was draped in a heavy black material. A backdrop that looked like a roll-up curtain hung suspended behind it.

“That is one beautiful sky.”

“It is, isn’t it? The title of it is Montana Big Sky. There are fourteen other backgrounds, including plain white.”

“This was in your boxes?”

“Not everything. Ren loaned me his truck and I picked it up in Livingston. Turns out Bob Raines—my boss from the school pictures—decided he was done with studio work. He made me a great deal on all sorts of goodies.”

She stepped into the room, walking carefully to avoid tripping over a cord or three. “Pretty impressive. Are you opening up a studio?”

He made a maybe-maybe not gesture. “We’ll see. Mostly, I wanted this tonight. For you.”

Her hand went to her throat. “What do you mean?”

“I want to photograph you.”

“I didn’t agree to that.”

“I know, but…it’s my gift. If our land business is truly over and I have no reason to stay in Marietta, then I have to start planning for the future. It’s a big world and there are lots of options.”

A sour taste that reminded her of chemo made her swallow hard. “You’re leaving.”

“Not until after the wedding. But if I go, I probably won’t be back, and I want to leave you with something to remember me by.”

She started to tell him that wasn’t necessary, but he stopped her. “This is important to me, Mia. And whether you want to admit it or not, it’s important to you, too.”

Her shoulders tensed. She hated when others tried to tell her what was important to her. He pulled her to him and stroked her back, coaxing her to relax. “I need you to trust me, Mia. Do you think you can do that?”

She looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

Her jaw dropped when he explained his plan.

“No, f…reaking way,” she cried the moment he stopped talking. “Are you crazy? Art shots? Naked? Me? Not gonna happen. I’ve seen where those shots wind up…plastered all over the Internet.”

He placed the bulky, heavy black camera in her hand. “This is old school, baby. Film. Not digital. I have four rolls of film here. Two rolls of black and white. Two high-intensity color. Thirty-six shots each. I’ll develop them myself at Bob Raines’s place. I bought his darkroom equipment, but there’s no room here for it.” When she didn’t reply, he added, “You can be in the darkroom with me. Every step of the way.”

Some of the tension inside her eased. “Why do you want to do this?”

“Why? To show you how beautiful you are.”

“I’m not—”

He put his finger to her lips.

“Are you perfect? No. Special? Unique? Brave? Resilient? Yes. The thing about art is sometimes you’re standing too close to see it. If you step back, your new perspective can let you appreciate how wonderful something is. I can give you that perspective, Mia. You can see yourself through my eyes. This is my gift to you. Will you take it?”

There was a finality in his tone that almost broke her heart. She didn’t want this thing between them to end. But she’d thought about the future all day and she knew she had to let him go—for his sake. He deserved someone whole…and hopeful. She’d planned to spell everything out for him tonight.

She swallowed hard. “You and I are the only people who will ever see these pictures, right?”

“That’s your decision. You control everything. Which shots we print. What happens to the negatives. Everything.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, and then tried again.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

*

Ryker couldn’t remember
the last time he’d sweated this bad during a shoot. Maybe those early days in New York when it felt like everybody’s eyes were on him and nothing he did would measure up to the masters he’d sought to emulate. It took him years to understand he’d never be another Edward Steichen because he was Ryker Bensen. His gifts were different. The gift that served him best was his ability to put his subjects at ease.

Even modestly covered in the white cotton robe he’d bought that morning, she looked stiff as starched tissue left in the sun. He reached for his brand new iPhone—a splurge with the money Bailey was paying him to shoot her wedding. “I’ve been working on a playlist called Mia’s World. Do you mind if it plays in the background while we do this?”

She seemed baffled by the question. “I…no…that’s fine.”

He hit play.

The first song had a vibrant young beat. The female singer probably wasn’t much older than Emilee. The refrain ordered you to “live it up.”

Mia’s smile was his first shot, followed by her look of disgust. No, not real disgust, just the look she gave him when she thought he was doing something over the top. She put limits on herself and the people around her, but deep inside she wanted to run as fast as humanly possible and climb to heights no one had ever reached before.

“What? You don’t like the song? I think it has a great beat. Let’s dance.”

He left his camera on the tripod and pulled her into his arms. She was laughing her
real
, happy laugh by the time he spun her in a circle and dipped her low. She even kicked up a leg. “You are crazy. You know that don’t you?”

He spun her again, this time letting go. “Dance for me, Nitro.”

“Who told you…?” She shrugged. “I haven’t been Nitro in a long time.”

But a moment later she closed her eyes and moved to the music. Young and free. She even recreated their dip, her lithe, strong leg kicking past the white robe in an utterly sexy way.

Breathless when the song ended, she faced him—and his camera—disheveled, gorgeous. The shoulder of the robe had slipped low. Keeping in mind his limited number of shots he adjusted the angle of the fabric to give him a little more shoulder. “Look toward the windows. You’re thinking about me. What we’re going to do when we’re done here.”

She moistened her lips. Her eyelids lowered in a sensual, pouty way.

“Good. Great. Hop up on the day bed. I want to try a different background.”

She did as he asked. He made the adjustment, changed the angle of his reflector slightly then stepped in front of her. “Do you feel safe?”

“Yes.”

“Good, then, it’s time to push the envelope. Turn to face the backdrop then slip your arms out of the robe and let it pool at your waist.”

He got the camera ready as she moved into position. Her strong, beautiful back nearly broke his heart.

Click.

She stiffened, as if the shutter had been the tip of a whip. She looked over her shoulder.

“You have no idea how beautiful the proud and dynamic curve of your back is, Mia. But like every woman I’ve ever known, you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. Pull them back slightly. That’s my girl.”

She blinked and swallowed. Moved by his words, he could tell. He had more for her, but he wouldn’t say them again.

“Turn my way now, but I don’t want you to reveal too much.”

He walked to the bed to position her arm in a way that he could see the sensual roundness of her breast but nothing else. “That is sexy in a way that defies explanation.”

She looked down as if curious about what made her breast sexy. The look was so disarming he nearly lost it. Luckily, he held the remote in his hand and caught the image with a click.

“Hold that pose while I adjust the camera,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion. He hid his emotions behind the camera, taking time to adjust for a shadow here, a freckle there.

“Good. Now give me a languid look. Go to your safe spot. That Mia place where nobody can touch you. Every woman has one. Go there, baby.”

He moved in closer taking care not to crowd her space. The faraway look in her eyes was heartbreakingly Mia. This was the money shot for him. The way he’d always remember her if she sent him away.

He knew that was her intention. He’d known it all along, but when he heard from Ren this morning that she’d lost the lot, Ryker knew the end was coming sooner rather than later. She’d paint him with the same brush as every other man who took something from her. She didn’t see them together forever…or even for the winter.

He didn’t blame her. What about him said: husband material? Stepdad? Mate?

Nothing.

“Are you okay?”

He blinked, coming back from his self-absorbed distraction. “Yes. I’m ready for color.”

The next hour passed in what felt like minutes. In addition to the nudes, he’d given her three changes of clothing: a hot chilies apron in the kitchen with nothing underneath, a frilly red teddy that made her giggle when she put it on, and the oversized t-shirt he’d gotten from Emilee that said: Bump, Set, Spike for a Cure.

His last photo was one of her tracing the printed word “cure” across the flat of her belly with her fingertip.

“Perfect. All done. You were amazing. My best model ever.”

She laughed and shook her head, obviously refusing to take his hyperbole seriously, but he meant it. She’d changed his life.

He just didn’t know how to make her believe him.

‡

Two weeks later

R
yker pressed his
ear to the door of his room. The sound of women’s voices was palpable. His little rental house/jewelry shop hummed with activity and it wasn’t even eight a.m. He grinned and took a deep breath before opening the door.

“Good morning, wedding people. Are we ready for the big day?”

“Are you ready, Mr. Photographer Man? That’s what everybody is wondering?”

Tonya was the most outspoken of Bailey’s Dazzling Minions—the artisans who created jewelry from Bailey’s designs. Tonya continued to tease him about being homeless. “Did you find that camera in a dumpster?”

“Yup. Just this morning. Lucky me.” He clicked her photo—once, twice, three shots. Her look went from surprise to humor to coy pose. They both laughed.

“Print me a copy,” she said. “Now, you’d better grab some coffee and pastries while you still can. Bailey and the girls will be here any minute.”

“The girls” he’d learned at a planning meeting earlier that week included Bailey’s soon-to-be stepdaughter, Chloe, her two future sisters-in-law, Mia and Meg, Austen’s girlfriend, Serena, and Mia’s daughter, Emilee. The others he’d gotten to know casually. Chloe and Emilee he’d met during his photography gig at school. Serena had sought him out to photograph her herd sire, Bartholomew, and several female alpacas Serena planned to sell. Meg he’d met for the first time the night before at the rehearsal dinner. The gathering, which was held at the Zabrinski home, had appeared to him to be less rehearsal and more festive family reunion.