“England? Like Prince William England?”
Dan rolled his eyes and snorted. “He’s married, Taryn. And a father.”
“Yeah, and I’m obsessed with his wife. So what?” She turned back to Mal with an excited current visibly running through her. “When?”
Mal smiled and put her pen behind her ear. “Not for a few months. We’re still in the planning stages, but I’ll definitely be out there for Remembrance Day in November. Poems about Flanders Fields, poppies, the whole bit.”
Taryn gawked, her eyes as wide as her mouth. “I thought you were just doing the project for the USO!”
“So did I. But someone told someone, and I got a call from London about doing the same thing for them. We’re all feeling patriotic lately, I guess.”
“Unbelievable,” Taryn breathed. She sank into a chair, then leaned forward. “Will you see Prince Harry?”
“I thought you wanted Prince William.” Dan laughed from his desk.
“I’ll take what I can get,” Taryn snapped, not looking at him.
Mal grinned and shook her head. “I have no idea. Like I said, still in the planning stages.”
“This is going to be huge, Mal,” Dan told her, growing serious and sitting up straighter. “Like massively huge.”
She couldn’t hide the glee she’d been feeling for the last week and a half. “I know. And it’s going to be awesome.”
“How’d you even get USO anyway?” Taryn asked, reaching for her open Tupperware of veggies and crunching on a carrot stick.
Mal thought back, trying to remember the details. “The call I got from the guy with Canadian properties after he saw the Lake Lure stuff? He knows someone in the USO, and they mentioned a project they were trying to get off the ground and he mentioned me. They liked the portfolio, and we had a video meeting to discuss their vision and what I could do. Honestly, it came together so easily, I thought something was up at first, like maybe Jenna or Tom had flagged them down.”
Dan looked surprised and laced his hands behind his head. “Really?”
She nodded, brushing cracker crumbs off her jeans. “But then they started talking about my Rustic Americana project and specific shots there and details about some Lake Lure shots, and I settled a bit. Even if someone did point a finger at me, they like what they see, so who am I to complain?”
“Seriously.” Taryn sighed, now munching on celery. “Can I come to England?”
Mal smirked and spun back to her computer screen. “We’ll see. If Dr. Durango doesn’t mind you guys missing class, we’ll talk.”
“He won’t mind,” they said together.
She snorted and went back to editing her Maine shots. It was easy work, but she’d really enjoyed that trip. She made a mental note to visit Maine in every season just to experience it.
With a trip to Canada in August, England in November, and scattered trips across the US in between, she was going to be working nonstop until Christmas. It was going to be a grind, but she could not have been more excited about it. She was getting paid to do the projects she wanted to do, which was all she had ever wanted. She still did some of the smaller jobs on the side to keep those skills from rusting, but big projects on the horizon made everything better.
Reed Summerfield emailed every week with pitches, trying to convert her to some Hollywood stuff, and so far, she’d managed to put him off. He didn’t seem to mind, but his ideas were getting better and better. He never said anything that could be construed as flirtatious or suggestive. For Hollywood’s biggest playboy, he was surprisingly focused on business with her. And that was almost as tempting as his ideas. But she always said no, though she didn’t know why.
“What did Jenna want yesterday?” Taryn asked as she flipped through the latestPeoplemagazine, swirling her chair slightly so it squeaked.
“A favor,” Mal replied with a hint of a smile. “They’re having a charity gala for kids with cancer in Chicago in a week and change, and the photographer they hired backed out.”
The squeaking stopped, and Mal looked over to see Taryn watching her with a raised brow, her lips twisting.
“What?” Mal asked.
Taryn narrowed her boldly shadowed eyes. “You don’t do stuff like that.”
Mal shrugged, her cheeks reddening. “Yeah, but it’s Jenna. And it’s Chicago. And it’s for charity, so…”
“Black tie?”
“Yep.”