“You’re so tiny,” he murmured, shaking his head.
She shrugged, her hands still on his arms. “Well, despite my uncle’s stature, my dad was a jockey, so that started me out on the right foot.”
“I like that you’re small,” he said softly, wanting to push a lock of her hair behind her ear, but unable to move his hands. “It makes me want to protect you.”
She met his eyes defiantly, but there was something else in her eyes. “I don’t need protection.”
“I know,” he replied at once, his hands jumping to her shoulders as if he could force down her rising energy. “And I like that, too. But it doesn’t change the way I feel.”
Her mouth opened, as if she were going to ask a question, but she stopped, exhaled, and just looked at him. The tilt of her head, her small frame, her wide eyes—all made her look more like a child. The question was still in her eyes, but he was afraid to know what it was.
He forced himself to step back and cleared his throat, then smiled. “All righty, Miss Photographer. Be prepared for quite the spectacle.”
She laughed, all tension gone, and moved to sit on a bench nearby. “Don’t hype it up if you can’t deliver, Mr.… What is your last name, anyway?”
He turned to look at her. “McIntyre. C. Hunter McIntyre, at your service,” he added, bowing slightly.
She raised a brow. “What’s the C for?”
He made a face. “Carlow.”
She clamped her lips together so hard he could nearly see her teeth through her lips.
“Go ahead,” he dared. “Laugh. But it’s for my grandfather, and he was really something.”
She smiled, still biting on her lip. “I’m sure he was. He would have to be to pass that name down.”
Hunter made a face and went to the other bench to pull out the blankets he’d brought. “Okay, Miss Hudson, what’s your middle name?” he taunted, making a show of tucking a blanket around her.
She watched him with amusement. “Take a guess. Starts with an S.”
He pretended to think, knowing he would most likely never get it. “Seraphina.”
She rolled her eyes and pushed at him. He laughed and went to get his last surprise.
“Tell me,” he said, going to the front of the boat. “I’m only going to guess ones that are out there.”
“Shannon,” she finally announced quietly. “It’s my mom’s favorite cousin. She died in a tractor accident at sixteen.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “It’s pretty. Suits you.”
She ducked her head for a minute, smiling, then looked up again with a teasing half smile. “Thanks, Carlow.”
He snorted softly, shaking his head. “And to think, I’m being nice to you,” he grumbled playfully, bringing a paper cup with a lid and a sleeve to her.
She took it with a surprised look. “What’s this?”
“Cocoa.”
Her mouth dropped open, and then one side slowly curved. “Seriously?”
He shrugged in what he hoped was a nonchalant way. “It’s cold, and you like cocoa. It’s the least I can do for creeping you out.”
She flashed him a grin and held the cup with both hands, bringing it closer to her face. “Consider me totally and officially uncreeped out.”
“Yes!” he whispered loudly, pumping a fist, which made her laugh. If only she knew that he was not actually playing his enthusiasm. He winked at her, then sat at the wheel and started the boat. “Okay, we gotta go or we’ll miss the sun.”
He drove her out to the middle of the lake and stayed far enough away from the houses to avoid disturbing anyone. A few of the guests and locals were out fishing, and he waved to them. He found himself talking to Mal a lot as she was taking pictures of this and that. He talked about his summers at the lake as a kid, fishing with his grandfather, when he first started taking part in the resort responsibilities… as a golf-cart driver. She gave him a hard time about that, but seemed to enjoy hearing his stories.