Page 13 of Picture This

I held up a hand and took a step back. “What are you doing?”

“We should party, babe.”

“Don’t call me babe. And no. I think I’ll save my partying for the wedding.”

“Ah.” He nodded, his gaze raking up and down my body. “So tomorrow. Got it. I can wait.”

I scrunched up my nose. “Does this super aggressive behavior actually work on other women?”

He stared at me, face blank, like he needed a minute to actually comprehend the question. “Emily said you were into me. That’s the whole reason I came up here.”

I wanted so badly to tell him he was wrong about Emily, but she probably had told him I was interested. “Let’s just call this camping trip over, okay?”

“Good idea.” He held up his arms, backing away. “I’m out.”

With one hand, he snatched the bottle from the couch. Then he weaved past the tents and started down the two-track road.

If this drunk idiot wanted to walk all the way down the mountain to the lodge, fine. I’d just wait until Mark came back with the SUV.

I rummaged through the coolers for a sandwich, chasing it down with a Diet Coke. Then I sat in a chair, reviewing the pictures I’d taken earlier, waiting to hear the noise of a vehicle.

Except the only sound came from the forest as a breeze rustled the nearby tree branches. And as the wind swept clouds over the sun, the light changed entirely. Every color intensified, from green to blue to gray and gold.

I was out of my seat in a blink, taking off the lens cap to my camera as I set out on the same hiking trail as before.

The rumble of thunder echoed from above as I hurried toward the peak where I’d stopped earlier. Excitement surged when I reached the top, my fingers almost trembling as I held up the camera.

I snapped photos in a flurry, not wanting to miss the moment. Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed. And the click of my shutter raced as fast as my heart until the first raindrop hit my head.

“Damn.” I looked to the gray overhead, to the clouds that were about to burst.

Mark was probably back at the camp, cursing my name for disappearing.

I didn’t want anyone to worry, but every shift of the light changed the landscape. This was a moment photographers chased with abandon. I couldn’t walk away, not yet.

An idea sparked, a vision of a gallery wall with photos of these mountains evolving along with the storm. The contrast between my shots from New York and those from Montana would mark the change in my life. Past to present to future.

So I stayed rooted to my spot, furiously taking photos until the downpour came, drenching me head to toe.

It was only fear that my camera would get too wet that drove me away, hurrying down the narrow trail. Except before I could reach the shelter of the trees, my foot landed on a smooth rock, and the entire world turned on its head.

With a yelp, I went flying, landing hard on my side and slipping down the rest of the incline of rocks. Pain exploded through my ankle and leg. My cry was swallowed up by a crack of thunder, until I finally came to a stop, sprawled on the ground, a piece of shale digging into my spine.

“Ouch,” I whimpered, pushing myself up on my elbow.

I probably could have broken my fall, but I’d been too worried about saving my camera.

With a hiss, I rolled to the side, blinking through tears and raindrops to see a huge scrape on my bare thigh. It was raw but not gushing. Nothing that would keep me from walking.

So I pushed to my feet, about to take a step, when my ankle buckled, and I crashed forward on my knees.

The scrape I could manage. But a sprained ankle?

“Damn it,” I hissed. “Stupid, Delylah.”

I should have known better. I should have left sooner. The only person to blame was myself.

Unless . . .