Mal grinned back, to his eternal delight. “There’s nothing else to do when it’s Hal Barney’s. How did you know I cleaned it? Were you watching?”
He looked back at the road. “I had money on you.”
She burst out laughing. “How much?”
“Hundred bucks.”
She hummed and sat back again. “Should have bet more. I snuck two helpings of cobbler from the kitchen after.”
He had no response for that except to laugh again, and then they were at the shore, and she was all business again. She raced from the truck, gauged the sky, the mountains, and the approaching sun, and started snapping pictures. She bounced on her feet.
“Come here!” she called, waving him over. She took off her shoes and socks, yanked off her earmuffs, and splashed out into the water, not even bothering to roll up her leggings.
“What?” he laughed, heading toward her.
She giggled and hissed at the cold water, then took the second camera from around her neck. “Start snapping shots!” she said, tossing the camera at him.
He caught it easily. “Of what?”
“Anything!” she replied with another laugh, returning to the task at hand.
“I am not going out there,” he informed her as he started to do as she said. “It’s freezing.”
Her laughter met his ears, and just then, the sun peeked over the ridge. It seemed that a beam settled itself specifically on her. She smiled and took pictures of the water, the sky, the mountains, anything and everything, the entire world seeming to delight her. She bent so close to the water he thought she was going to submerge herself, then she’d turn and tilt her camera up at a peak, at the dock, one particular tree that caught the sunlight… .
Hunter found it hard to swallow, transfixed by her, then he was taking pictures—of her. Just a few, because the moment could not go unnoticed. Then he took pictures randomly, not caring if he wasted her entire memory card on blurry nothings. He didn’t even mind that suddenly he was getting his feet wet, or that he wasn’t going to get a workout in this morning, or probably any other morning this week.
As far as he was concerned, they were all spoken for.
Mal was out of breath by the time she finished her shoot. She knew she’d been excitable and childish and way too giddy about a sunrise, and Hunter probably thought she was crazy, but he was being very nice about it.
Her initial impressions of him had been off, she could now admit. Yes, he was still the same impossibly gorgeous man from before, but like this, in a hoodie and sweats, he was also approachable. He wasn’t as quiet as she’d pegged him, which was a fun surprise, and he was actually quite witty, which she never really expected from attractive people. Not fair, she knew, but snap judgments rarely were.
She was glad now that she’d gotten in his truck and gone with him today, despite her reservations at the time. It had been a much more productive morning than she’d thought. He hadn’t made any smart comments about her walking barefoot in the sand now, her shoes in hand, the second camera once more around her neck with the first. He was chatting about the rowing teams that came to the resort on training trips and how his own team at UNC, which Tom had also been on, had done so. She wasn’t really listening, but he had the kind of voice that was nice to hear no matter what he was saying.
“So how is it up at the house?” he said, changing the subject abruptly.
She looked at him. “What, the Hen House?”
He grinned, and she was still proud of herself for the name.
“It’s… interesting,” she said carefully.
“Very PC answer,” he replied with a nod. “Care to expound?”
She considered, wondering just what she could say to him. “I’m not like these girls,” she finally admitted. “I don’t care about the calories in dinner or if my makeup is perfect or if my clothing looks like it’s expensive even if it’s not. I really couldn’t care less about today being Designer Day. I’m actually hoping to avoid it. Jenna and Caroline are fine; they’re closer to my level, but not much. I have nothing in common with these people.”
“These people?” he prodded. “Your family and their friends?”
Mal snorted softly. “Friends. Show me real friends of anyone in this group, and I’ll show you Santa’s workshop.”
“That sounds bitter.”
“When you’re called mediocre and too plump for your limited height and ‘only good enough for department stores’ by people who’ve never actually spoken to you before, a little bitterness tends to show up.” She scowled at the memories from last night, shaking her head.
Hunter nearly stopped, but didn’t. “They said what?”
Mal turned to smile as blandly as she could. “Don’t get excited. Let’s just say I’ve gotten used to being treated like this by the upper class.”