Page 35 of Beauty and the Beach

“Well done,” he says, nodding at them.

They all smile, and the nice one says, “Do you need anything else?”

“Nothing,” he says, standing up. “I’ll be sure to recommend your services in the future.”

“We appreciate it,” the one who curled my hair says. The three of them smile once more, incline their heads at me, and then shuffle out of the room, leaving me alone with Phoenix and Wyatt.

“You think I look good,” I say the second the door shuts.

“I think you look passable,” Phoenix corrects me, straightening his suit coat and then turning to Wyatt. “Would you grab the rest of the bags from the bedroom, please, and follow us out to the gardens with them?”

“Passable?” I say, my jaw dropping as Wyatt hurries into the bedroom. “You did a double take, Rooster. Your jaw twitched.”

“My jaw did nothing of the sort.”

“And your eyes widened.”

“You’re delusional, Amsterdam,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Let’s move things along, please. Exit and turn left out the doors to the gardens.”

I grin as I head to the fancy double doors. I know I’m right on this one.

“What do you think of the dress from this angle?” I say over my shoulder as I walk. I pull my hair gently over my shoulders so he can see the plunging back.

“I think there’s not enough fabric,” he says. His voice is clipped, tense, and it feels like he’s handing over a big gold trophy.

My smile just widens.

Phoenix

Our photographer is short,burgundy-haired, and more enthusiastic than I’m comfortable with.

“Ugh, this isgorgeous,” she says as she snaps photo after photo of Holland. “Arm down a little—perfect, yes,loveit. Love. You’re fierce”—click!—“you’re a goddess”—click!—“tilt the chin a little bit, down to the left, perfect”—click!—“I hate that you guys booked a mini session. I could shoot you all day.”

I guess I have to thank my lucky stars that she’s doing bridal portraits before I’m required to join in; I didn’t realize that was part of the process, but I’m glad it is. I’ve parked myself and our bags on a smooth stone bench along the garden path while Holland poses awkwardly next to a tree further down, showing off the back of her dress.

And she looks beautiful. I hate that I have to admit it, but I do. She’s so gorgeous, so sexy, that my brain keeps trying to forget what a pest she is, irritating and annoying. All I seem capable of processing is that bare expanse of skin—smooth gold against the white of the dress, the curved wings of her shoulder blades. If she were any other woman, I would be imagining trailing one finger down the delicate crease of her spine, just to see how she reacted?—

But she isn’t, and I’m not.

I will, however, need a minute before I have to go stand next to her and pretend to be in love.

“Oh,” Holland says, speaking for the first time in over a minute, and I look up to see her craning her head toward me. “My jewelry!”

I look blankly at her.

“My jewelry,” she says, rolling her eyes but not moving otherwise; her body is still in its look-over-the-shoulder pose. “In the paper bag. Can you reach in and grab it for me? It’s a biggish velvet box.”

I exhale and lean sideways, digging through the bag until I find the box, soft red velvet and the size of a large calculator. “This is giant,” I say, holding it up.

“It’s nice jewelry,” she says. “Can you open it and bring me the stuff? It should just be a necklace and earrings?—”

But she breaks off when I open the box and something flutters to the ground. “What’s that—” she begins, letting go of her pose and turning to face me, frowning.

I lean down and pick it up. It’s pure white, lacy, and at first I think it’s a handkerchief—until I look closer.

Lingerie. This little scrap of fabric is unmistakably lingerie. In fact—I put the box down next to me on the bench—it’s asetof lingerie,twolittle scraps of fabric, and I cannot touch these or look at them or even think about them. I turn my head pointedly, swallow, and set the clothes blindly to the side.

Seventeen times two is thirty-four. Seventeen times three is fifty-one. Seventeen times four is sixty-eight?—

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