He was more dressed up than the other men, but still far more casual than Mal had seen him. A pair of well-loved blue jeans, Sperry’s, and a white button-up that hung open and rolled at the sleeves, with a white tank top underneath. His hair was disheveled by the wind, his scruff was tempting, and he wore his Ray-Bans the entire time, which honestly did nothing about the intensity of his eyes.
She knew when he looked at her. Her entire body lit up when those eyes hit her. And she got very, very warm—warm enough to take off her oversized peach T-shirt and just go with the double-layered tank tops underneath.
Hunter smirked broadly at that one, but thankfully stayed on his side of the boat. She stayed as far away from him as she could bear, hanging near Taryn and Dan whenever she could. Obviously, they had to separate at times to get pictures of different things and at different angles, but they stuck together as the outsiders of the group.
Taryn found great enjoyment in Mal’s behavior and took it upon herself to point out various things to her. “You’re drooling,” she said with a snicker as she made her way behind Mal.
“So would you, if you had him,” Mal bit back, her mouth curving.
Dan choked a little on his drink and marked an invisible tally in the sky while Taryn grumbled under her breath. Mal glanced around and saw, to her surprise, Reed was away from the rest of the group, sitting in a lounge chair, with a pencil and notebook in hand.
The Hollywood Heartthrob wasn’t trying to get with any of the bridesmaids? That was odd. She wandered in that direction, covering with the camera and new angles, knowing Hunter’s eyes were following her. She glanced at him occasionally, and his attention was riveted on her.
Yikes.
Reed didn’t seem to notice her coming, his notebook propped up against his bent knee, tanned skin contrasting brightly with the white pages. He was shirtless, like most of the guys, and she was woman enough to appreciate the fine show of muscle on display. His dark hair tousled in the breeze, flapping against the sunglasses on his face, and she restrained the impulse to take a picture. Nobody needed more shirtless pictures of Reed Summerfield in the world. Except maybe Taryn, and she would already have taken twelve.
“Hey, picture lady,” Reed said quietly when she was close enough, still focused on his paper. “Come to get the money shot?”
Mal snorted and pointedly turned her camera toward the back of the boat. “Yeah, the houses on this side are amazing.”
“Ouch.” Reed paused to rub his chest just over his heart but didn’t sound wounded at all. “She bites too.”
“Reflex,” she replied, snapping a few more photos.
Then she turned back and saw, to her surprise, that he was sketching. She moved closer and peered over his shoulder, looking from the group of people toward the front of the boat, then back to his paper. He was sketching all of them, and he was good.
Really good.
“You sketch?” she asked, lowering her camera and leaning on his chair.
He shrugged. “When I’m bored. Or stuck. Habit from hours on set as a kid with nothing better to do.”
His voice was flat, but she had the sense that the Summerfield family had been less of a family and more of a corporation. That couldn’t have been easy for a kid to grow up in.
“Well, it’s good,” she told him, straightening. “Like, really good.”
For the first time, he looked up at her. “Yeah? Not just saying that?”
She gave him a look. “You need me to tell you it’s good?”
“You don’t seem the type to try to flatter me, so yeah.”
She smiled at that. He was right; she wouldn’t. “It’s good, Reed.”
He flashed a smile of too-perfect teeth that probably would have made other girls light-headed. “Thanks.” He looked back down at it and flipped a few pages, showing her more. “People are easy, once you get the hang of it. I tried landscapes for a while, but I couldn’t get it right.”
“It’s a struggle,” Mal agreed with a nod. “I’ve got it easy with the camera, but I still miss tons.”
Reed shook his head at once. “Not easy, Mal. You’ve got it harder. You’ve gotta catch what we’re already seeing but make it different, make it more. You have to change what we think we see.” He shrugged. “I just can’t draw trees and rocks. Much better at pretty girls.”
She chuckled in spite of herself. “Do you draw dirty pictures, Reed?”
He looked up at her with a jaunty smile and a raised brow. “You offering?”
That made her laugh, and she shook her head at him. “No, sir.”
“I know,” he said, still smiling. “Just joking.”