Chase Me If You Can(80)
“You’re telling me you want to go back to town, check into our room, and ignore me to edit photos?” Wes flashes a teasing grin. “That’s true romance right there.”
* * *
“Holy shit, I got it!” I tip my laptop toward Wes where he’s propped up next to me against the headboard working on his own photos. “I can’t believe it.”
“I can.” He takes my laptop after pushing his own out of the way to study the image. The tornado is in the foreground, the angle of the sun turning it mostly white with a brown swirl of dust at the base. The rainbow arcs behind it with a tack-sharp lightning bolt in the distance just to the left of the tornado. “This is incredible. The slightly longer exposure caught the light just right, and that low angle comp was such a smart choice. Are you going to submit it?”
“I think so.” I hesitate, and then ask, “Did you get it too?”
“Nope. Maybe if I’d been smart like you and grabbed the tripod I would have.” Wes leans closer to brush a kiss against my cheek. “Proud of you.”
Warmth floods my veins. “Stop it,” I grumble. “You keep looking at me like that and we’re not making it out of this room tonight.”
Wes dances his fingers up my thigh, stopping short before he gets to anything fun. “And that would be a bad thing?”
“No.” I sigh, grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to his open palm. “Yes. We did tell Tracy and Matt we’d join them at the bar tonight.”
“Right. That.” Wes opens his laptop and spins it to show me the image he’s been working on. I asked him to focus on Matt during the ceremony so I could stick with Tracy. While wedding photography might not be Wes’s preference, his talent with a camera isn’t limited to landscapes. He’s captured Matt’s dreamy expression perfectly.
“You want to help me shoot weddings more often? That’s great.”
“Not the weddings you usually do, but…” A thoughtful crease forms between his brows. “This could be your thing. The nontraditional weddings, I mean.”
I can’t help a laugh, shaking my head. “There are not enough people who want to get married in the middle of a thunderstorm to pay my mortgage.”
“No, but there are a lot of couples who don’t want to deal with a big elaborate ceremony. I have some friends in Moab that shoot weddings out in the backcountry. Super small. You’d be great at something like that.”
It sounds too good to be true. The magic of weddings but without all the pomp and circumstance that’s starting to burn me out. “You really think that’s a viable way to make a living?”
“I think there are far fewer photographers willing to get up at two in the morning to hike to the top of a mountain for sunrise with a forty-pound bag of gear than there are couples who want that kind of wedding. Especially in our generation. Most of us can’t afford to drop thirty grand on a party.” His lips twist into a rueful smile. “Hell, I can afford it, but the idea of being stuffed into a suit and under a microscope for an entire night sounds awful.”
“Something to think about, I guess,” I say slowly. The idea has merit, but with only an hour and a half until we’re due to meet Tracy and Matt at the bar she dropped in the group chat, there isn’t time to dig into it. “Thank you for the suggestion. I’ll look into it,” I tell Wes, stretching to press a kiss to his cheek. “After I get these done. Stop distracting me,” I add with a playful shove.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I shiver at the memory of the last time those words left his lips and point sharply at his laptop. “Focus!”
Wes holds up his palms in a show of innocence that is immediately overruled by the wicked curve of his mouth.
“It will be faster if we shower together,” he says when I finally declare I’m done editing.
“Lies.” I shake my head and pull off my shirt, tossing it into his face. He catches it one-handed and doesn’t try to hide how he presses the fabric to his nose, inhaling my scent. I make it all the way to the bathroom door before I twist back to ask, “You coming?”
His face lights up like he’s won the lottery. With four long strides, he lifts me by my thighs and carries me the two steps into the bathroom. “Not before you do.”
Chapter Twenty-One
When I explain the composition I’m considering featuring my dress to Wes the next morning, he lights up. “Put you out in a field with some lightning and you’d pass for a Valkyrie.” His gaze roams hungrily over me. “That would make a great contest entry to go with the shot you got yesterday. Let’s do it.”
“A Valkyrie, huh?” I slash my arm like I’m wielding an imaginary sword and stop just short of pretend-slicing off his head before I relax with a laugh. “Not far from what I’m envisioning, though. I just need to find the right spot. I only have”—I glance at the date on my watch—“nine days left to get this right.”
“Let’s focus on that today, then. If it doesn’t work, we’ll try again tomorrow.”
“You need to figure out your shot for the contest too,” I remind him.
“And I will,” Wes assures me with a light kiss on the tip of my nose. “But I’ve got another month of chasing ahead of me. We can focus on you and make sure you get what you need before you have to go home.”