Page 122 of Bitter Heat

“Food!” Bailey shouted as she pulled Lyle toward the house. “Come on, Uncle! They have cake!”

“Okay, you two face one another,” the photographer said.

They did as she asked.

“You just got married,” the photographer said as she stalked them like a sniper. “You’re so happy. Smile, smile, smile. Or… don’t. You can do that too. Okay, look out at the lake. Soft face, soft eyes. Think of your new life together. Chin up, darling. Yes! There you go.”

She was trembling. She wasn’t sure whether it was from the low temperature or the fact that she was now legally bound to him again.

“You’ve taken this too far,” she said.

“It’s necessary,” he murmured.

“Happy faces!” the photographer barked.

Both of their faces eased into expressions appropriate for wedding photos.

“What’s going to happen to Kaia?” she asked as the photographer jockeyed for the right angle.

His hand flexed around hers. “Nothing.”

“You promise?”

“Negotiations are over.”

She shook her head and immediately stopped when she heard the photographer curse. She tried to soften her expression as the woman fussed with her veil and even draped it over Roth to give the impression that they were in their own world.

“Okay, look at one another andsmile,” the photographer called.

That was beyond her at the moment, and Roth only smiled when he was making money, so their expressions stayed neutral but intense.

“Okay, I think we got it!” the photographer announced and hightailed it to the house.

Roth untangled himself from the veil and held her troubled gaze.

“She had no right to interfere,” he said.

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to.” He twined their hands together. “Let’s go inside. You’re cold.”

“Roth.”

He squeezed her hand. “No, it’s over.”

She wanted to argue that point, but she saw Thea watching them from the window and shut her mouth. Time to dust off her acting chops.

The formal dining room they never used was set with china that Thea had unearthed from God knew where. They sat around the table as the food was served, but they eventually migrated to the kitchen where they sat on stools. She wasn’t comfortable with the personal, candid shots the photographer continued to take.

“She knows what she’s doing,” Roth reassured her.

When she sat, Bailey immediately climbed onto her lap. “You look like a princess.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I keep your bouquet?”

“Of course, you can.”

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