“What are you wearing?”
Mal burst out laughing and shook her head, going back to her computer. “White blouse and pencil skirt. I’m working, not a guest. There’s no Designer Day in real life.”
“But you got to keep those dresses!”
“No.”
Taryn made a noise of disgust. “You’re no fun. At least wear some sexy shoes.”
“We’ll see.”
Ashley’s voice broke in. “I’m sorry, Miss Hudson?”
Mal sighed and turned to face the girl in the doorway. “Ashley, what did I tell you to call me?”
Ashley’s face flushed, and she smiled, tucking a strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. “Sorry. Mal. There’s a client for you.”
“More fun?” Dan asked with a flash of his grin, chewing on a coffee straw. “Please say we’re going somewhere cool.”
“Shut up!” Taryn hissed, flipping his hat off his head. “Best behavior unless you don’t want to go to England.”
Dan glared at her and took the straw out of his mouth. “Just for that, I’m not buying you dinner tonight.”
Taryn stuck her tongue out at him, but Mal caught the wink, too. So, they were still together. Interesting. They never discussed it, and as long as the workplace was semi-professional, she really didn’t care.
Mal turned back to Ashley, who looked as confused by them as ever. “Who is it? Did they say?”
Ashley looked down at the notepad in her hand. “Audrey McIntyre.”
There wasn’t a sound in the room. No chair squeaked, no one breathed, and even the fridge in the back stopped humming.
Mal swallowed with difficulty. “Take a message.”
Ashley winced and tugged at her denim skirt. “Um, I can’t. She’s here… like, out front.”
If utter silence could go more silent, it did then.
Mal inhaled, exhaled, and leaned back slightly in her chair. She could do this. She’d thought long and hard about Lake Lure and what had happened there, and she’d been wrong before. She wasn’t dumb enough, or open enough, to get played like that. It had to have been real—just not real enough.
Whatever hurt he’d caused her, Hunter McIntyre was a good man and wouldn’t have jerked her around just for fun. She could claim that all she wanted, but it was a lie. She had been hurt, incredibly so, but the hurt was fading. Reality and acceptance was setting in. He hadn’t meant to hurt her; he’d just done what she had expected all along. He’d gone with what fit and where he belonged. And she really couldn’t blame him for that.
It still hurt, and she still cried sometimes, but it was okay. She could still remember the details, letting the faint echo of the emotions of them come out, and not hate him. In all honesty, she would never be able to hate him.
Besides, he’d stopped calling altogether now. It was really over. She could move on.
“Mal,” Taryn murmured softly, but Mal shook her head and held out a hand.
“Did she say what she wanted?” Mal asked, keeping her voice level.
Poor Ashley had no idea what was going on and was suddenly nervous. “Um, she had some questions and concerns about the Rambling Ridge Resort pictures.”
Ah, so Audrey had a stake in the company too. That made sense. This was business. Business she could handle.
Mal nodded and gave a faint smile. “Okay. Tell her I’ll be right out.”
Ashley sagged in relief and left the room.
Slowly, Mal got out of her chair and went over to the new mirror in the bathroom. She looked fairly professional today—dark-wash jeans, white tank, and a pale pink shrug, minimal jewelry, decent job on the makeup. Hair was pulled back in a loose, messy bun, but it looked clean enough. She was a photographer, not a CEO. Besides, there was no need to worry about what Audrey McIntyre thought of her.