Page 6 of Blame It on the Bikini
"Then grab your stuff, and let's go."
Relief coursed through her, immediately followed by discomfort at being indebted to him. But she had no choice. She grabbed her equipment and put it in the trunk of his Audi.
"Thank you," she said as she got into the passenger seat, immediately struck by the new-car smell and immaculate interior. It reminded her of her father's succession of luxury vehicles, each one replaced before it showed even a hint of wear. "I appreciate this."
He merely nodded and started the engine, which immediately purred to life. He didn't say anything as he put the resort into his GPS and then proceeded out of the parking lot.
After two minutes, the silence between them grew heavy. She wanted to break it, but she didn't know what to say. She couldn't get into an argument with him about the building while he was doing her a favor, and what else could they possibly discuss?
"So," he finally said, obviously deciding he was tired of the awkward silence, too, "Do you shoot a lot of weddings?"
"More than I would like. Nature and landscape photography is what I really love, but weddings provide a reliable income."
"Quite a departure from corporate law," he commented. "Didn’t you tell me the last time I was here that you went to Georgetown? Weren't you working for your father's very prestigious law firm? It seems like you made quite a leap."
She could hear the implied criticism in his words. Clearly, he considered her jump a leap down, but that was okay. He wasn't the first to question her decisions. "I wanted to be able to work in a field where I could be creative and imaginative. I'm also no longer working eighty hours a week to make rich people richer. I call my own shots." She'd barely finished speaking when her phone rang. The bride this time. "I'm sorry. I have to take this. It's the bride."
"Go ahead."
"Hi, Tiffany! How are you feeling this morning?"
The bride's tearful voice spilled from the phone loud enough for Grayson to hear her. "Everything's falling apart, Lexie. The florist delivered the wrong centerpieces. Jordan hasn't texted me back in an hour. My mom is driving me crazy, and Kathleen is stuck at the airport. My wedding is turning into a disaster?—"
"Take a deep breath," Lexie interrupted. "It's all going to work out. I'll be there shortly, and we're going to capture every beautiful moment of your day, starting with you getting ready with your bridesmaids. Remember how excited you were about those matching robes?"
"Yes," Tiffany said. "But what about Kathleen?"
"She'll make it. I'm sure Eileen has already sent a car for her," she said, referring to Tiffany's wedding planner, who had at times been happy to abdicate a lot of her responsibilities to Lexie. But, hopefully, she was working on getting Kathleen to the resort. If not, she'd deal with that when she arrived. "Why don't you and the other girls put on your robes and open that bottle of champagne your maid of honor brought? By the time you've had a glass, I'll be there, and we'll start creating the memories you'll cherish forever."
"Okay. But hurry. I'll feel better when you're here. You're always so calm, Lexie."
After a few more reassurances, she ended the call and let out a long breath.
"So, you call your own shots, huh?" Grayson asked with amusement in his voice. "It seems to me like you've traded one demanding client base for another, one with a lower retainer and more emotional drama."
As much as she hated to admit it, there was truth in his observation—and it struck uncomfortably close to home. "It's still different," she grumbled.
"How so?"
"I'm creating something meaningful. Something that brings people joy. The photos I take will remind them of the happiest day of their lives."
"But is it the happiest day of your life? And is it worth the pay cut? The stress? Having your weekends commandeered by strangers' emotional crises?"
"Yes," she said firmly, though a tiny voice in her head whispered otherwise. "Not that I expect someone like you to understand."
"Someone like me?" he echoed, shooting her a sharp glance.
"Someone who measures everything by its monetary value. Someone who sees a building full of people's homes and only thinks about profit margins. What he can gain, not what everyone else will lose."
His jaw tightened. "You don't know anything about me or what I value, Lexie."
"I know enough," she said, though a small part of her recognized the unfairness of her assessment. She barely knew Grayson Holt. But she did know he and his father ran a huge real-estate development company that was worth billions, which made her angry that they couldn't handle having one apartment building in their portfolio that might not be making them a lot of money but was still bringing in some profit.
Her phone rang again, sparing her from further debate. This time, it was the wedding planner, frantic about the timeline and double-checking when Lexie would arrive.
As she fielded another call immediately after—the best man wanting to know if she could get some epic shots of the groomsmen—Grayson remained silent, but she could feel his judgment radiating across the console.
"It's hectic now, but it's all going to work out," she said.
