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It’d better mean the photographer has already left, and not that her alarm hasn’t worked. I’m tempted to go check, but I don’t, thinking it’ll only prove my point if she shows up late.
Petty, I know, but this woman, for unfathomable reasons, is really getting on my nerves.
When I join the others in the resort’s parking lot, Miss Sass is already there and, honestly, looking as jungle ready as the rest of the group.
She’s wearing military green cargo pants, black combat boots that rival the ex-Delta Force footwear, and a long-sleeved undyed linen shirt. A different camera from last night hangs from her neck, while her shoulders are weighed down by a gigantic rucksack—also military green. Her long hair is pulled back from her forehead into two twin braids that sneak around the side of her head all the way to her nape, where they join again in a thicker, single braid.
“Ogling the photographer, are we?”
Archie’s voice makes me jump.
“I wasn’t—that’s not what…” I scoff. “I’m just glad she didn’t show up in a dress.”
Archie slaps a hand on my shoulder. “And what do you think of the army look?”
“What do you think?” I ask pointedly.
Archie pulls at his short beard. “Those braids are giving me serious Mother of Dragons vibes, totally hot.”
Unfortunately, he’s right. I worry Winter Knowles could wear a potato sack and still manage to look totally hot.
“Should I remind you she’s off-limits?” I scold.
“Why? Because of your bogus dibs claim?”
“A dibs call is a dibs call.”
Archie shakes his head. “Sorry, buddy, but your claim is valid only if you act on it. I’ll tell you what.” He squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll give you a week’s head start, but if you don’t make a move by next Sunday, then the lady becomes fair game again.”
I’m about to protest, but he’s already moved on.
“Morning, Snowflake.” His deep voice booms across the parking lot. “Ready to rock?”
“Well, hello, if it’s not our esteemed drone handler.” She beams up at him and raises her camera. “Pose for a departure shot?”
Archie grabs the rear pole of the closest open Jeep and flexes his biceps, stamping a daredevil grin onto his lips.
She brings the viewfinder to her eye and takes a few pictures.
When she lowers the camera again, Archie gestures toward her heavy backpack, saying, “May I?”
She unhooks the straps from her shoulders and lets him load the rucksack on the back of the Jeep.
I roll my eyes and join them before they exchange vows and get married already.
So much for a head start.
“Morning,” I greet them.
Winter turns to me, the smile evaporating from her lips. “Good morning,” she says, formal and cold.
Then, she eyes me challengingly, as if daring me to find something wrong with her outfit.
But I know better than to take the bait. Every little thing I say to this woman can and will be used against me, so I keep my mouth firmly shut.
“So.” She points down at herself. “Is my attire appropriate enough?”
Apparently, she still isn’t ready to let it go.
