Page 85 of The Christmas Holiday
‘How incredibly chivalrous of you,’ I said, my voice flat, but he knew me better and saw the amusement in my eyes.
‘I know. It’s all part of my charm.’
‘Quite.’
‘I guess they were right, though. When I thought about it later, I realised I shouldn’t have just left like that. Taken off to the back of Christ knows where in South America.’
‘That’s whereyou went?’
He nodded, glancing back at the cloudburst over the sea. ‘Yeah. Job came up. Seemed like a good idea at the time.’
‘If it helped get your career to where it is now, then it probably was.’
He shook his head. ‘I didn’t want to listen at the time. But no. Another job would have come up. I only had one chance to go back and try and work things out with you. We just explodedat each other and that was that. Done. There was more to say. I think we both know that now. And that’s the chance I should have taken.’
‘Hunter…’
‘It’s all right, Mia. I know we’re different people now from who we were then. We’ve lived and learned. At least I hope we have.’
I looked up and met the dark blue of his eyes. He held my gaze a moment before breaking it with a smile ashe glanced away and concentrated on the snow-covered ground in front of him.
‘But they must be immensely proud of you, and your career?’ I stumbled a little clumsily onto a safer subject.
I saw Hunter cut his eyes to me briefly before fixing them back on the ground just in front of him, watching for any dips in the snow that might signal a lurking rabbit hole or the like. It wouldn’t havemattered how smooth my subject transition had been. Hunter would still have spotted it a mile off. I was getting used to it again now, and oddly it didn’t bother me as much as it had done at the onset of the trip.
‘They are. They’ve been incredibly supportive with… everything. Admittedly, they’re less supportive of… well, let’s call them my lifestyle choices these days.’
‘The fact thatyou’re a gigolo, you mean?’ I teased, referring back to our earlier argument when he’d looked at me askance for my word choice.
He laughed easily as I poked a little fun at us both. ‘That’s exactly what I mean. I still can’t believe you came out with that term.’
‘I know,’ I sighed, then laughed along with him.
‘I thought words were supposed to be your thing.’
‘They are my thing.I just had a moment.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Yes. I’m sure you’ve taken plenty of shots of your shoes over the years.’
‘Not once.’
‘Oh, you are such a Pinocchio!’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he chuckled as he caught my arm, ‘but you have given me an idea. Come over here a minute.’ He took my hand and started walking towards a large boulder near the cliff edge.
‘Hey. I’m fullysupportive of your wish to be a travelling gigolo, I promise,’ I said, tugging back on his arm and dragging my feet.
‘I appreciate the support.’ He grinned at my tease. ‘Now stop arsing about and help me get this shot before the light goes.’
Hunter pulled a thin plastic mat out from his rucksack and laid it on the damp rock, getting me to sit on it before he took his place next to me.Stretching my legs out, I put my feet next to his as he instructed, and he laid the camera on the edge of his thigh, using the back screen to see the image and twiddling a couple of settings. I watched as he did so, his face relaxed but concentrated. My gaze dropped to the screen. The simple colour contrast of the shot was pure Hunter. The slab-grey of the sea, the white of the snow, the fine stripof fading orange above the horizon and the bright red of the laces in the brand of boots we both wore. I’d not actually owned any hiking boots before and had a feeling Hunter had been instrumental in recommending the expensive, insanely comfortable pair I’d been happily tramping around in all day. He fired off a few frames and then made a couple of adjustments before doing the same thing again.
‘Done?’ I asked as he lifted the camera away.
‘Nearly.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Pressing a button, he switched it to camera and then onto the front-facing one before holding it up to us.
I looked across at him. ‘Really? The great Hunter Scott does selfies?’
