Page 1 of Picture This

Chapter 1

Delylah

Iwas surrounded by wannabe cowboys.

The lobby at the Haven River Ranch lodge was crowded with Emily and Luca’s friends from New York. Real estate agents, hedge fund analysts, investment bankers, and trust fund babies. They were all playing Western dress-up for a long weekend in Montana.

When I’d arrived at the airport this morning for our charter flight, each and every one of these men had preened in their polished square-toed boots and Wrangler jeans. If I had to guess, they’d all ordered Stetsons from the same hat shop in the city. Hopefully they’d gotten a group discount—not that any of them needed a price break.

They all toted designer duffel bags and suitcases, while a wheel on my Samsonite was broken and I couldn’t remember the last time the handle had extended fully. The backpack I’d brought along had a hole in the bottom that I’d covered with duct tape.

New luggage wasn’t in my budget. Neither were private flights. But Luca, my best friend’s fiancé, was loaded. When he’d offered me a seat on the jet he’d arranged for his buddies, I’d jumped at the chance to save on airfare.

Until my photo exhibition in November, I was pinching pennies.

My job as a forensic photographer paid enough to keep me comfortable, but after four years of photographing crime scenes and dead bodies, it was time for a change. I wanted to take pictures of pretty places and people who still had a pulse.

With any luck, after the gallery’s show, I’d sell enough art to move home to Montana with more than a “life experience” to boast about for the eight years I’d spent in New York. And then, maybe I could find a real cowboy.

A man who didn’t raise an eyebrow at my old suitcase or mind a little dust on his boots. A man who’d give me his chocolate chip cookie when the flight attendant announced she was one short. A man who wouldn’t cut in front of me for the hotel’s check-in line.

Luca was a great guy. His single friends? Not so much.

Part of me felt bad for Emily that she was marrying into this crowd, but they didn’t annoy her the way they irritated me. They didn’t snub her for being poor.

An ear-piercing squeal filled the lobby. A squeal that I’d known since I was five.

Emily came racing down the lodge’s staircase, her arms spread wide, her own boots loud on the hardwood floor as she rushed across the lobby and crashed into me. “You’re here.”

“Hi.” I smiled, hugging her tight. “Happy wedding weekend.”

“Finally. I feel like I’ve been waiting forever for this weekend to get here.” She squealed again and let me go, her smile blinding.

Her brown hair was six inches longer than when she’d left the city earlier this week, her extensions hitting her waist. Her sleeveless denim dress was one of many outfits she’d modeled for me when I’d gone to her and Luca’s Manhattan penthouse to help her pack.

Emily and I had been best friends since kindergarten. Her parents had bought the house next door to mine when they moved to my small hometown, and she’d become the closest thing I had to a sister.

When I’d decided to study photography in New York after high school, she’d picked a college in the city so we could move across the country together. I was still living in the tiny, cramped apartment we’d shared for years, using her old room as my studio.

For now.

Emily didn’t know that I was leaving the city yet. The only people I’d told were my parents, and I’d sworn them to secrecy. Once the wedding was over, I’d break the news to her, but at the moment, I was simply trying not to add more stress.

She was keyed up enough for this weekend.

Luca’s parents hadn’t wanted a Montana wedding. They were part of the affluent New York culture and wanted an opulent city gala. But Emily and I had both dreamed of weddings at the Haven River Ranch.

Nestled at the base of the Crazy Mountains, forty-five minutes from our hometown of Big Timber, this resort was one of the most beautiful places in the world.

There was a reason so many people flocked to this resort. It was magic. The waiting list for weddings was five years out, but Emily’s mom was cousins with the owners—the Haven brothers—and they’d been able to work out a spot for the wedding in June.

So here we were. In just two days, Emily and Luca would say “I do” in a green meadow with a backdrop of evergreen forests and towering indigo peaks.

“We have a slight change in the agenda,” she said. “I had the best idea last night.”

“Oh.” No.

Lately, her best ideas meant dragging me along to some pretentious event under the guise of introducing me as a budding young artist to New York’s most affluent families, when really, it was just an excuse for her to play matchmaker. Emily was determined to set me up with one of Luca’s rich friends.