Page 42 of Stranded with the Resort Owner

"Please tell me you've made progress." Her voice crackles through the less-than-perfect connection. "The Mortons are hounding me for updates."

"We've had some challenges with the venue." Despite Lucas watching me intently from across the counter, I keep my tone professionally neutral. "Water damage in the main reception hall."

"Water damage?" The connection can't disguise her horror. "Amelia, this wedding cannot fail. The Mortons are threatening to pull all future business if their daughter's day isn't perfect."

"We've developed an alternative plan using another space in the resort. It's more suitable for a winter wedding." I gesture for Lucas to send the photos to my email so I can forward them.

"The Mortons don't want alternatives. They want what was promised." Her voice rises, stress evident.

"I understand, but?—"

"No buts. Fix this, Amelia." The call disconnects before I can respond.

I set the phone down carefully, aware of Lucas's observant gaze. "That went well."

"Your boss sounds charming." His dry tone pulls a reluctant laugh from me.

"Miranda's under pressure, too. This wedding represents millions in future business." I check my email, relieved to see Lucas's photos in my inbox. "These are impressive. Really impressive."

"Let's get more." He stands, gathering our dishes. "A full portfolio to showcase the new plan."

The next hours transform into an unexpected adventure as we move through the resort, staging and photographing elements of the revised wedding plan.

Lucas proves to be a patient teacher, showing me how to find the best angles and use available light. What begins as a necessary documentation exercise evolves into something playful as we rearrange furniture, experiment with table settings, and occasionally disagree on artistic direction.

"No, the flowers need to be lower." I adjust a sample centerpiece for the tenth time. "Guests need to see each other across the table."

"But the composition works better with height." He frames the shot, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Function over form." I nudge his shoulder, the casual contact sending unexpected warmth through me.

"Says the woman who wanted fifty identical napkin swans." His retort comes with a smirk that shouldn't be as attractive as it is.

Our banter continues as we work, the professional purpose increasingly interwoven with personal connection. I laugh more than I have in months. The rigid perfectionism that usually governs my work softens in the face of his creative approach.

"One more location." Lucas checks his watch as we finish in the Mountainview Room. "I want to show you how the atrium looks at sunset."

We return to the glass-domed space he showed me yesterday, now transformed by the setting sun. Golden light pours through the glass ceiling, painting the circular room in warm amber tones. The snow-covered mountains beyond glow pink and purple in the fading light, creating a breathtaking backdrop that momentarily steals my voice.

"Imagine a ceremony here." Lucas speaks quietly, as if reluctant to break the magic of the moment. "Just before sunset, with the mountains turning gold and purple. Candles lining the perimeter, flowers along that curved wall."

The vision forms in my mind with startling clarity—not just any wedding, but a fairytale brought to life.

Intimate, magical, unexpected.

"Oh my god, that would be perfect." The words escape in a whisper. "Better than perfect. It's a fairytale wedding come to life. She's going to freak out when I show her these pictures."

"Better than perfect?" He turns to me, eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "Who are you, and what have you done with Amelia Hayes?"

Excitement builds as I move through the space, my mind racing with possibilities. "We could hold the ceremony here at sunset, then move to the Mountainview Room for the reception. It creates a natural flow, and this space—Lucas this space is magical."

"You're magical right now." His quiet observation stops me mid-stride. "Watching you see possibilities instead of problems. Creating beauty from unexpected challenges."

Something shifts in my chest—a recognition, a surrender to the joy of creation over the tyranny of perfection. Without thinking, I cross to him, hands gripping his shoulders as I bounce with excitement.

"We can do this. We can make it even better than the original plan."

Energy pulses through me, bright and unfiltered—professional momentum braided tightly with something far more personal. More dangerous.

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