It Matters To Me (The Wandering Hearts Book 2)

by Wendy Owens

  “Good to know,” I chime in, wishing I understood the reason behind his hot and cold exterior.

  “Speaking of third jobs,” he laughs, before pausing.

  “Uh-oh,” my eyebrows lift apprehensively.

  “I promise, it’s nothing too sinister.”

  “Wait, are you seriously offering me more work?” my mouth drops open as I realize at least part of him is serious.

  Aiden fidgets for a moment, his head dropping and a foot swiftly kicking the door frame of my room. “I mean, I was thinking about it, but now that I know you and your friend think I’m a murderer.”

  I shove him in the arm, ensuring the pressure with which I do so would be considered playful. “Stop it. Are you serious?”

  He nods. “I took a look at some of your shots—”

  “And you’re never going to let me borrow your camera again,” I blurt sarcastically. Why do I always head off compliments with sarcasm?

  “Well, if you’d let me get it out,” he continues, glaring at me. “I think you have a great eye.”

  “Did you get the files I sent over with some of the edits I suggested?”

  “I did,” he nods. “I can see you’ve been doing your research. I want to be completely honest with you. I may not be the best teacher, I lack patience, I know I can be moody, but if you’re interested—”

  He stops abruptly, nibbling a moment at his bottom lip as he turns and looks down the long empty hall of the hotel.

  “Really? Why would you do that for me?” I ask, swelling gratitude aching inside my chest.

  “Oh no, let me be straight with you, I have nothing but a selfish motive. There are plenty of jobs I get where a second camera on the job would be helpful. If I hire someone who already has the knowledge, it would cost me a fortune. All I—I mean—you—” he stammers.

  I lean in close, a smile from ear to ear. “You like me.”

  He laughs, taking a step back. “I suppose you’re fine.”

  “Yup, you like me. Don’t worry, people can’t help it. It’s my magnetic personality.” I boast, puffing my chest out.

  “That must be it,” he’s laughing again.

  “Well, I guess that leads me to my proposal,” he stiffens, his face growing more serious.

  I wave my hands, shaking my head. “Whoa, whoa, I don’t know what you were thinking, but just because I agreed to work with you more, I never said anything about marriage.”

  His face turns at least seven shades of red, his lips pressed tightly together. I slam him firmly in the arm this time. “Hey, calm down, I’m just joking,” I exclaim.

  “I know,” he gasps, though from his expression it’s clear I’ve made him uncomfortable. “I mean, of course you were,” he forces a laugh.

  “What was your question?” I ask, hoping to move on, now thoroughly embarrassed by my poorly timed joke.

  “Jumanda is friends with a member of the tourist department for Gaborone City, and they were curious if I—if we would be interested in snapping some images for an upcoming campaign they’re launching.”

  “Are you kidding?” I nearly squeal.

  Aiden draws in a deep breath, and I could swear it looks as if even his eyes are smiling at me. “I mean, if you’re not interested, or need to be back in Chicago for something, I’m sure I could handle things.”

  “Oh no,” I say. “You’re stuck with me now.”

  “So, you don’t need to go home, I mean nobody is expecting you or anything?” he asks, watching me intensely.

  My head tilts as I study him. “I suppose my mother.” I laugh. “How long are we talking?”

  “Couple of weeks, maybe longer,” he answers.

  There are tears. Why in the hell am I crying?

  He reaches out, placing a hand on my arm to support me. “Are you okay?”

  I shake my head, fighting for breath, embarrassed that I lost my composure in front of him. “Just happy.” I choked out at last. “I love this job.”

  A hearty laugh bursts from Aiden’s mouth, and he delivers me a sideways hug, nearly whispering. “It shows in the pictures you take.”

  I blink, looking up at him. He’s so close to me I can smell the soap on him from the shower he must have just taken. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, taking a step back into the safety of my room. He doesn’t follow, but he’s watching me.

  “Don’t be,” he reassures me. “How about we grab some dinner?”

  Relieved for the change in subject I eagerly agree. “Absolutely. Meet in the lobby in twenty?”

  He lingers. He’s not smiling. His eyes are traveling up and down my body. I laugh awkwardly, feeling the scrutiny with which he’s looking at me.

  “Twenty minutes?” I ask again.

  He nods, and without another word, he walks away. I press the door closed and stumbling backward, I throw myself onto the bed, my heart pounding in my chest.

  “IS THIS NORMAL?” I ASK Aiden, watching as the officers scurry, blocking off traffic, creating a secure location to set up our equipment.

  He coughs, choking on the crumbs of a pastry he just shoved into his mouth. He chews, swallows, and clears his throat. “Is what normal?”

  “Is all of this normal in a photographer’s life?”

  “I’m still not understanding the question.” He looks at me.

  I glance around and motion to the scene unfolding in front of us. “This. All of it. Since I met you, I’ve flown on a private plane to Africa where I got to see an endangered black rhino, and now the city is bending over backward to help you take these pictures.”

  He laughs. “Let’s see. The private plane is rare, usually I’m stuck carrying minimal equipment, and I tend to sleep in the cheapest place I can. Occasionally, I get treats like this trip, but if you’re thinking this life is always so glamorous—”

  “I never said I thought it was glamorous,” I interject with a grin.

  He glances around, grabbing a camera bag as an officer waves us forward. “As far as this five-star treatment, what you’re seeing here is someone trying to cover their ass for not appropriately planning.”

  I shake my head in confusion. “How do you mean?”

  He pauses, looking back at me. “This kind of shoot takes time, permits, planning. I didn’t apply for a single permit and was told whatever I need, just let them know. If I had to guess, there was a budget to bring in tourism and someone let the ball drop. They discovered how far you have to book a project like this and now they’re scrambling. They’re probably just happy they found some idiot to take the job on such short notice.”

  “Wow,” I hiss.

  “What?”

  “You’re just so cynical.”

  “Cynicism has nothing to do with my opinion. It’s experience.”

  I shrug. “Then I’m glad someone didn’t do their job. This is amazing.”

  I catch a smile creep in at the corners of his mouth. He swallows. “You’re unique, Kenzie Crawford. I’ll give you that.” Gladly, I take it as a compliment. I watch him as he sizes up the landmark in front of him. Small lines appear at the corners of his eyes, and I feel a tightness grip my throat.

  When he snaps his fingers and waves to the oversized box of gear, I spring into action. I tell myself to focus on the task at hand. I’m here to do a job. I’m being paid to assist him, but I can’t stop looking at him. Watching him. Wondering about his story. There’s so much more to him than what I’ve found from a Google search. I can see it in his eyes. Pushing the curiosity down, smothering it, I focus on the task at hand.

  I GLANCE AT MY PHONE. I’ve been waiting all day for a call from my lawyer—an update on the case against the Andersons. Just one more gift from my father. I can’t stop thinking that had I never looked up Dale and Janet—had my father never found out—perhaps he wouldn’t feel the need to punish them further. No matter how many times I look at the screen of my phone, the status of zero messages doesn’t change.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” Kenzie says, causing m
e to glance at my watch. I smile. She’s exactly two minutes late, not what I would call an infraction requiring an apology. She looks at me with a prying gaze. In one connection, it feels like I’ve revealed a million secrets to her. “Are you okay?” she asks me.

  “Huh?” I scoff, squirming uncomfortably. “Yeah, of course.”

  Lifting her brows and offering a slow blink she shakes her head. “Sorry, you looked all ‘sad Keanu’ for a moment.”

  I lean back, a smile climbing across my face, a laugh breaking free.

  “You know,” she adds. “The meme.”

  “Yeah,” I nod, “I know what you’re talking about, I’ve just never had someone call me ‘sad Keanu’ before.”

  She shrugs innocently. “Oh, here!” She exclaims shoving a travel cup of coffee in front of me. “It’s all froufrou, just like you like it.”

  I retrieve the coffee from her hand and advise her casually, “Just a heads up, calling your boss ‘froufrou sad Keanu’ probably isn’t the best way to set yourself up for a promotion.”

  Without missing a beat, she replies, “That’s okay, I’m only planning to learn everything you have to teach and then steal your clients away, anyway.”

  I laugh again. I’ve laughed more since I met Kenzie than I think I have in my entire life. I like it. “Good to know.”

  She tilts her head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. So, what beautiful treasure of Gaborone City do we get to shoot today?”

  “Let’s see.” I tap my chin as if I’m running through the vast options in my mind, though the truth is we could probably wrap up most of the locations in a couple of days. “We’ve got some government buildings and statues.”

  She grins. “I can hardly contain my excitement.”

  “We also have at least a day’s worth of temple shots to get,” I add.

  “Now that sounds fun, can we do that today?” she pleads, blinking at me wide-eyed.

  “I mean you buttered me up with all that talk of me looking like an internet meme, so how can I say no?” I joke.

  She pumps an arm enthusiastically. “Yes!”

  “We should get some great shots. From what I’ve been told they’re getting ready for a Hindu festival,” I add.

  She shoves me firmly in the arm. “Get out, you’re messing with me.”

  I lift three fingers and stiffen my back. “Scout’s honor.”

  She glares at me cautiously. “You were never a Boy Scout, were you?”

  “What? I don’t seem the type?” I ask with my best clueless face.

  “Not exactly.”

  “No, I probably would have been kicked out of the Boy Scouts.”

  “Oh nice,” she grins. “A bad boy, huh?”

  “I had a phase,” I confirm.

  She frowns, exaggeratedly.

  “What?” I question.

  “I like bad boys,” she wiggles her eyebrows at me. If it were anyone else, I would have sworn I was being flirted with, but Kenzie has made it clear she’s dealing with a tough breakup. I remind myself, this is simply her sense of humor coming through.

  “How many coffees have you had?” I ask.

  She shrieks gleefully, “I’m just having a little fun.”

  Fun around Kenzie is contagious. I remember scattered comments of randomness from her. Each nugget a genuine and unique thought, unlike anything I’d ever heard from anyone I’d ever met. I can’t stop myself from trying to memorize her. I could never tell her as I’m sure she wouldn’t understand, I’m not even sure I do, but I feel like I need to come up with any possible way to extend my time with her. I’m not sure if I’m trying to figure her out or what. All I know is I like the way I feel when I’m with her. I tell myself, that can’t be a bad thing, can it?

  WHEN AIDEN SUGGESTED A DAY off at the hotel pool, it sounded a little like heaven. I never thought about the hell it would be to watch him strut around in a pair of swim trunks. It was easy to distract myself when we first arrived at the pool with a family of children playing and splashing in the water serving as something to focus on. However, within five minutes of our arrival, they disappeared back into their lives, leaving me in the treacherous waters of half naked with my super hot boss.

  I tug on the left strap of my black one piece bathing suit after looking down and seeing my big gal leftie boob is starting to develop a mind of her own and wander where ever the hell she wants. Sitting on the edge of the pool, I begin to make circles with my feet in the water, staring at the trail.

  “I should have known you were trouble when I first set eyes on you,” Aiden says, swimming in my direction, his hard body hidden beneath the water’s rippling surface.

  “How’s that?” I ask.

  “In a few weeks’ time you already have me playing hooky,” he answers, I can feel his eyes watching me. I glance down, ensuring leftie hasn’t once again strayed. Nope, she’s right where she should be.

  “If I may disagree, this day at the pool was your idea,” I remind him.

  “Maybe I just wanted to see you in a swimsuit,” his eyes are fixed watching for my response.

  I feel my cheeks flush hot, and I can only imagine that my face currently matches my hair. Gripping the edge of the pool I twist and slide down into the water, slipping under the surface for a moment then popping back up. In my mind, I imagine I look as if I’m moving in slow motion, just like a sexy actress from a movie. But then I remember, as my head breaks the surface, and I explode in a coughing fit, in reality, these movements are usually something that gets lost in translation. In fact, it’s more likely I resemble a baby otter, struggling to the surface.

  “Are you all right?” he asks, placing a hand on my back. It arches involuntarily in response.

  My voice cracks as I say, “chlorine up my nose,” coughing again, my face now red for a completely different reason. My cough gives way to laughter, because really, what else can I do but laugh.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asks again, closing the gap between us.

  I nod, wiping the water from my eyes.

  “You do know how to swim, don’t you?” he teases.

  I splash him swiftly and repeatedly, hammering him with water. “Yes!”

  “Okay, okay!” he shrieks. “Sorry, you’re an Olympic swimmer, I get it.”

  I relent. We float close to one another, but not close enough that I’m uncomfortable. I wouldn’t mind being a little more uncomfortable, I think, but then quickly remind myself, boss.

  “Wouldn’t it be nice if it was always this easy,” I say without thinking.

  He cranes his neck, his brows stitch a glare clouded in confusion. “If what was always this easy?”

  I shrug. “People.”

  “Are you calling me easy now?” he responds, smiling.

  I threaten another splash, he waves his hand, surrendering before the battle. “What I mean is, it’s easy to hang out with you.”

  “Thanks,” he starts uneasily. “I guess.”

  “What?” I snap. “No hidden insult. You were a real pain at first, but now, it just feels so simple when we’re together.”

  “Yeah,” he’s laughing. “No hidden insults at all.”

  “Fine, I take it all back. You make things very difficult,” I growl, creating more distance between us, swimming to the other end of the pool.

  “Oh come on,” he groans, giving chase. I have to admit, I like when he chases me. “I was just playing around.”

  I flash him a smile. “I stand by my first statement, you’re easy.”

  “All right,” he holds up a hand, my eyes immediately gravitate to the defined pectoral muscles that are peeking out from under the surface of the water. “You’ve got me all figured out.”

  “Ha!” I scoff. “Far from it.”

  “Oh, so I’m still a mystery?” he asks, chuckling a little.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll figure you out,” I assure him.

  A smile curves across his face as he moves closer to me. Still not uncomforta
bly close. “How about we play a game?”

  “Why does this feel like in high school when the boy waited for the gym teacher to turn his back before suggesting a friendly round of, ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?’”

  Throwing his head back Aiden gives a sharp short laugh. “No, I mean we can play that if you want, but I was going to say how about a game of I’ll tell you about me if you tell me about you.”

  I shrug. “Sounds similar to what I said.”

  “How about you start?” he suggests, ignoring my snide comment.

  “Why me?” I quickly protest.

  He’s moved closer still, now teetering on the edge of uncomfortable and it makes me smile involuntarily. “Because I came up with the game, so now you have to go first.”

  “That seems like faulty logic to me, but okay.” I grimace. “What do you want to know?”

  “How about Mr. Right who turned Mr. Wrong?” His eyes are fixed on me. Part of me wants to turn away, but the part of me that’s aching says to stay right where I am, despite the heat rising inside me.

  “What about him?” I cut back at him. I roll my bottom lip against my teeth, waiting anxiously for his response.

  He lifts a shoulder and shakes his head slightly. “I don’t know, what’s the whole story? And don’t tell me there’s not more, there’s always more.”

  “When you’re in college and a hot guy tells you that he loves you, you believe them,” I start.

  “Are you saying he lied?” Aiden pushes.

  I shake my head, wishing it were my turn to ask the questions. “No, I think he loves me in the only way he knows how. But I didn’t even know who I was supposed to be back then. Don’t get me wrong, I thought I wanted forever with him, I really did.”

  “But?” He looks at me while floating his arms on the top of the water. I try not to let his glistening shoulders distract me any more than they already are.

  “How do you know what you want at that point in your life? I mean, you spend the first few years of college trying to figure out what life looks like without your parents over your shoulder every moment. The last thing I was capable of figuring out was who I should spend forever with,” I explain, admitting a truth I hadn’t yet admitted to myself, “I didn’t even take the time to figure out who I wanted to be.”