Leaving his job was the toughest part. Not that he was so attached to it. But living in Toronto and sticking close to Jennifer instead of heading out for six months a year meant finding a nine-to-five job. Suits and ties. Rules and bosses who screamed for no reason.
He hated all of it. It caused his mind to shut down. He felt it but couldn’t stop it.
To escape, he fell into his photography with even more excitement. Even now he shuffled the photos he’d taken last week. Private ones. Jennifer in the bedroom. Nothing tacky. This was pure art. They unwrapped her soul through her eyes and her body.
For the first time, she let go of everything and stopped posing as she’d been taught at Naked News. This wasn’t about getting the perfect shot. He wanted the right one. The one that uncovered a piece of her.
He’d succeeded. These were real and genuine. They captured the sweet, sexy, complicated woman she was.
She came up behind him and slid her arms around his waist. “What are you doing?”
“Running away from home until the caterer stops calling.”
“Well, you’re going to have to take me with you because if I hear about one more floral arrangement—” She stopped, her hand going to the stack of black and white photos he hadn’t checked out yet. “These are of me.”
“Funny thing, but the lady next door refuses to strip and let me photograph her.”
“That’s not what I mean.” She pivoted around him and paged through the papers as if in a trance.
The reaction scared the hell out of him. He’d poured every emotion and bit of energy into this work. If she shot it down, she’d slam him at a fundamental level.
“I know they’re not professional quality—”
She turned to him with tears in her eyes and a photo clenched to her chest. “It’s not that.”
“Jennifer.”
“Don’t you see?”
“If you hate them I can get rid of them.” It would kill him, but he’d do it to spare her any distress.
“Don’t you dare.” She yelled the warning.
Now she had him all turned around. He didn’t understand what was setting off this reaction or what the reaction even meant. “I don’t—”
“You see it all.” She stared at the photo that had been trapped against her sweater. “You captured Jennifer and Victoria. Both at the same time.”
The hot ball of tension in his gut fizzled out. “They’re both in you.”
“But I can see them.” She pointed to the photo. “It’s as if you dragged both aspects out of me and placed them on the page with a gentle hand.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
She treated him to a watery smile. “You see me. All of me.”
“Of course.”
“No, don’t act like that’s usual. It’s rare. Most people don’t see it.”
He caressed her jaw. “The one thing I am is an expert on you.”
She pressed a soft kiss on his mouth. “Can I have this?”
“I can do a better copy.”
“No, this one.”
“Sure.”
She walked out of the room but stopped in the doorway to face him. “Paul?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“I’m so happy I’m marrying you.”
Epilogue
A YEAR LATER JENNIFER LOOKED OUT THE WINDOW over the kitchen sink of the main house. Her husband walked up the ladder at the side of Cabin Five. When he got to the top rung, he stripped off his shirt.
She loved this part. Seeing him outside, his mind focused on the job . . . and his tanned chest gleaming in the sunshine. After leaving his job to move in with her and get married, he took a new job. A desk job. He’d been miserable trapped inside—until that day they went to the cottage at Lake Orr for a getaway and saw the sale sign. A seventy-acre park, the Green Acres RV Park. Derelict cabins and grounds that needed work.
The job suited him. Suited both of them. The reality of getting older made her look outside Naked News for future answers. She still worked there and loved every minute, but her focus had shifted.
They signed the paperwork, and she shipped Paul and the dogs up there to get working right after they got back home. She’d stayed behind to sell their house in Toronto. The relocation went smoothly.
Running the park was a different story.
Now their evenings were spent making plans to update the park and add new cabins. Paul had to fix the ones they had first, which meant long hours of tough work. And there was always something new to fix.
She watched the sun set his skin aglow. He thrived in this environment. He’d come alive as the responsibility piled on top of him.
Between the PR work and managing this place, she was exhausted, but it was a good type of exhaustion. The type that came from a hard day of work and a hot night of passion.
With the phone quiet and her computer work caught up, she decided to take a nap. She never indulged, but having her head hit the pillow sounded so good.
She had just drifted off to sleep when she felt Paul’s hand on her shoulder. She rolled over thinking he wanted to take advantage of the bed. “Hi there.” “Do you know the nonemergency number for the police?” She did a straight-up jackknife. “What?”
“I’ve got it under control. Just need the number.”
She debated an interrogation until he gave her the details, but then she saw his face. Determined and calm. A deep inhale slowed her rampaging heartbeat. “You can handle it.”
He smiled. “Of course.” Her trust in him never wavered. “It’s on the speed dial.”
Patting her bottom, he headed for the door. “Go back to sleep.”
Easy for him to say. She fell back against the mattress. Her mind spun with the theories about what was happening out there. He either found something or saw something.
She stared at the ceiling. She trusted him but that didn’t mean she was the type of person who could lounge around after hearing that news. She slid her legs over the side of the bed. She’d just put her shoes on when his head popped up in the doorway.
His chuckle filled the room. “I’m amazed it took you that long to get up and come snooping.”
“I totally trust you.”
“I know.” He reached his hand out. “Come on. We’ll handle it together.”
“Together.” She slid her fingers through his, sealing the connection. “I like that.”
“And I like you. A lot.” He squeezed her hand. But it was that roguish grin of his that got her every time and could still make her skin tingle like it did when they were kids making out in the backseat of a car.
The feeling lingered as they put out the latest little fire at their Green Acres RV park. Their RV park. And their waterfront cottage, which they had dubbed “Kingfisher.” Arm-in-arm they surveyed it together. Jennifer pulled a stray weed from the well-tended lawn as they rounded the pristine charmer that Paul had so beautifully renovated. Inside and out. A lot like the magic his steadfast love had worked on her.
“M’lady? Your chariot awaits.” With a flourish he swept an arm towards their pontoon, tethered to the wharf he had recently rebuilt with good, sturdy wood. The new wood was pretty and still yellow, yet to show signs of storms weathered on the sandy shores of Lake Orr.
The water glistened. So beautiful and peaceful, their own private oasis—all the more appreciated after the storms they had managed to weather together. As Paul untied the rope with his strong, capable hands, then gave a healthy shove to set them afloat, Jennifer surveyed the bounty before her. An embarrassment of riches, The Duchess would say.
The Duchess was right.
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