Picture Perfect (Weddings by Design Book #1): A Novel

  But why do I care what Drew thinks?

  Still, I did. Maybe a little too much. I glanced his way and noticed the warning look in his eyes. I chose to ignore it, shifting my attention back to Bella’s brother.

  As Armando quirked a brow and gave me a teasing “come hither” look, I thought about my words to Scarlet less than a week ago: “Every time a great-looking guy glances my way, I melt like buttercream on an overheated cupcake. I lose all control of my senses. He could be an ax murderer for all I know, but my discernment goes out the window because I’m so flattered a guy—any guy—would give me the time of day.”

  Except now, with those words dancing through my brain, the only handsome man to draw my eye was the hunky, broad-shouldered photographer reaching for his Nikon, with a “watch your back” look in his eyes.

  7

  It Could Happen to You

  May your blessings outnumber

  The shamrocks that grow.

  And may trouble avoid you

  Wherever you go.

  Irish blessing

  I kept an eye on my watch during breakfast. Clearly, a 10:00 photo shoot with an Italian family didn’t really mean 10:00. If it involved food—which this one did—it meant 10:30. Okay, 10:40.

  At exactly 10:43 I managed to gather the troops on the veranda for the first photo. The children, God bless them, were in rare form. I’d never seen such craziness. They chased each other, slapping, slugging, and hollering at the top of their lungs. In fact, the only one louder than the boys was Rosa. She shook a broom at them and threatened to sweep them under the rug if they didn’t hush. Not that they paid her much mind. The more amped up they got, the nuttier her reactions.

  Bella seemed to take it all in stride. So did D.J., who looked on with a lopsided grin. Even the grandparents found Rosa’s somewhat erratic behavior laughable. I’d hoped to get a handle on things quickly, but how could I get these kids calmed down?

  Grandpa Aengus’s words came to mind: “Praise the child and you praise the mother.”

  I fought to think of something clever to say about the boys, finally settling on, “They’re very fast, aren’t they?”

  Brushing a loose hair out of her face, Bella grinned. “You have no idea.” She let out a piercing whistle, and soon the boys calmed down.

  I faced the Rossi family and clapped my hands to get their attention. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road,” I said, offering a confident smile.

  The family members spent the better part of the next ten minutes getting situated. Now, I’d worked with large groups before, but rarely so many children all at once. And knowing that Drew was standing behind me—likely analyzing my methods, style, and demeanor—caused me to break out in a sweat comparable to one of Mama’s infamous hot flashes. So much for coming across as a professional.

  Jacquie Goldfarb, you will not bring me down! I will slay this dragon. Watch and see!

  Not that the Rossi children were dragons, of course. Still, they did unsettle my nerves.

  Just about the time I got everyone situated to my liking, the baby began to cry. One of the older boys—the one called Deany-boy—slugged his brother in the shoulder, which resulted in an all-out fistfight on the steps, one that could have ended in bloodshed if not for the long string of Italian words from Bella’s uncle Lazarro. Thanks to his commanding manner, the boys finally settled down. Bella also managed to get the baby to stop crying and used a tissue to dab the little one’s eyes and runny nose.

  “Okay, folks, let’s try that again.” I managed a forced smile.

  Eventually they stood in a semblance of order. Well, sort of. A couple of them remained hidden behind the others. Figured. Just about the time I thought I had a handle on things.

  “Here, try it this way.” Drew stepped beside me and gave me a quick glance, as if to ask, “Do you mind?” Before I could respond—what would I have said, anyway? “Go away”? “Leave me alone”? “Let me do my work”?—he walked up the steps, shuffled a few people around, and basically got everyone in the perfect order.

  I should have thanked him. Really, that’s what a better person would have done. Still, the only thing I could think to do was catch a few shots while the kids were behaving and pray Bella didn’t see me as a complete idiot.

  Deep breath, Hannah. This is going to be fine. Just relax and enjoy the moment. This is the opportunity of a lifetime.

  I did my best to remain calm, but a clicking noise to my right piqued my curiosity. What in the world? I looked over to see Drew kneeling about ten feet to my right . . . taking pictures. Anger gripped me, and I shot him a warning look, one he couldn’t possibly misinterpret.

  “Ah.” He rose, brushed the dust from his jeans with his free hand, and shrugged. “Sorry. I just couldn’t resist. From this angle, there’s a great shot of Bella holding the baby.”

  Do not say a word. Do not say a word.

  “Drew, you’re so sweet.” Bella’s voice rang out from the porch. “And I think this is the perfect idea. While Hannah’s getting the wide shots, you do some random close-ups. We’ll merge both of your pictures in the end.”

  Great. Just what I needed. Go ahead and put the knife in my back, Jacquie. Pretend to be my friend one minute and then stab me in the back the next. And while you’re at it, why not give that knife an extra twist?

  The clicking of cameras continued as new opportunities presented themselves. Before long I forgot to be angry with Drew. We wrapped up on the front porch, and I led the crew to the backyard to Rosa and Laz’s vegetable garden. I couldn’t help but watch the family dynamics as the children, parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles all played and laughed together. Rosa looked so happy with her arm looped through her husband’s. And Bella’s parents—what were their names again? Cosmo and something . . . Anyway, they were an odd but blissful pair, him with his near-balding head and her with all of her finely tuned makeup.

  Who has pores like that in her late fifties?

  My gaze shifted to Bella and her husband, D.J. They stopped just short of the back garden for a quick kiss—one that almost drew a sigh out of me—and then brushed some dirt from Tres’s cheek.

  I walked toward the hothouse, hoping for a glimpse inside.

  “Cute kid.” Drew’s pace matched mine, and he gestured to the little boy. “Reminds me of myself when I was that age.”

  “You had brown eyes and spoke with a Tex-Italian accent?”

  “No.” He laughed. “Didn’t mean that. He’s just so rambunctious. My mother always said I kept her on the edge of her seat at all times. I’ve spent the last few years trying to make it up to her.”

  “How so?”

  He shrugged. “By making her proud. Ever since my father died, she . . .” His words drifted off, and I saw a look in his eye I’d never seen before.

  Wow. Maybe I’d better reconsider my former thoughts about this guy. He was a mama’s boy with a soft heart? Who knew?

  Drew shook his head. “Well, she’s had a rough time of it.”

  After a moment’s pause, I managed a weak “I’m sorry.” I wanted to say more, but nothing came to mind.

  We stopped at the edge of the hothouse, and I glanced inside, amazed to find it just as colorful as the garden. More so, perhaps.

  “You come from a big family?” he asked as he swung his camera over his shoulder.

  My response—“I’m Irish”—got a laugh out of him.

  “Don’t be so quick to judge based on the gene pool,” he said. “I’m Irish too, and I’m an only child. It happens.”

  Well, this certainly answered my question about his heritage, but something in his expression caused my heart to twist as he mentioned being an only child. How would I have survived without my three younger sisters?

  I didn’t have much time to think about this, however. The perfect photo op caught my eye. Tres leaned down to pluck a tomato from the vine. Ideal angle, sunlight . . . everything. How could I resist?

  Drew reached for his camera
and pointed it at Bella and D.J., who remained in a tight embrace, the garden making a lovely backdrop behind them. I did my best not to sigh at the beauty of the moment. Would I ever know such love?

  We spent the next hour getting shots of the kids, first in the Roma tomatoes and then among the brilliant red Costolutos. I’d been in a handful of gardens in my day, but nothing like this one. Apparently, Laz and Rosa had worked with precision to plant and cultivate this colorful wonderland. Tomatoes by the gazillions lined the area to my right. To the left, carrots, onions, and peppers. On the south end of the property, an herb garden. The pungent scents of basil and oregano drew me in. In spite of our larger-than-life breakfast, seeing and smelling this wonderful garden made me hungry—so hungry, in fact, that my stomach rumbled.

  Bella’s aunt Rosa approached as I continued to catch one luscious photo after another. “You stay after and I’ll give you a little taste of gravy from this garden,” she said.

  “Gravy?”

  “She means sauce,” Drew whispered in my ear. “Gravy is her word for tomato sauce.”

  My mouth watered. I almost responded with “You’ve got a deal,” but then remembered my shopping plans with Mama.

  I didn’t have time to answer, anyway. I found the perfect opportunity to get some shots of little Rosa-Earline curled up on a blanket among the eggplants. The contrast of colors—the deep purple next to her soft, white skin—made for an adorable, albeit staged, photo op.

  Next I caught the boys playing among the radicchios. Perfect. After that I located Rosa and Laz kissing next to a trellis lined with ivy. Primo. From there I caught a glimpse of Bella’s sister and brother-in-law kneeling to play with the children among vibrant green heads of lettuce.

  On and on the photo ops went. I’d never known such joy or freedom as in those moments. I felt more at home working my way through Rosa and Laz’s garden than I’d felt in years.

  We wrapped up a couple of minutes before noon. Rosa and Laz headed inside to cook, and Armando approached—or should I say, he strolled my way with a devilish grin on his face.

  “So, Hannah . . .” His right eyebrow elevated.

  My heart took to pitter-pattering, half in fear and half in intrigue. “Y-yes?”

  “Inquiring minds want to know—why did you call your business Picture This?”

  I paused to think through my answer. “It just sort of came to me. Divinely inspired, I guess.”

  “Interesting.” Armando leaned in close. Maybe a little too close. “When I hear the words picture this, I really hear imagine this,” he whispered, then gave me a little wink. “That’s what I’m doing right now, imagining the two of us. You. Me. Us.”

  Ew.

  From several yards away Drew caught my eye, and his gaze narrowed as he took a few quick steps in my direction.

  Armando, clearly undaunted, kept going. Those thick, dark brows of his got to waggling as he leaned so close that our shoulders touched. “So, tell me more about this business of yours. Maybe I could use some head shots for my deejay business.”

  “Oh? You’re a deejay?” Interesting.

  “Sure am. Well, part time. When the opportunities present themselves.”

  Okay, now the shoulder action was getting a little creepy. I did my best to ease away from him without being too noticeable.

  “Surprised Bella didn’t tell you. I’ve been working at a high-end club in Houston. Pretty swanky place. You should come see me in action sometime.”

  I was seeing him in action right now, and I didn’t care for it one little bit, though the chocolate-brown eyes did hold me spellbound. Well, mostly.

  Don’t do it, Hannah. Don’t lose control of your senses just because he’s g-g-gorgeous.

  Speaking of gorgeous . . . out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Drew moving next to me. Part of me breathed a sigh of relief, the other part felt swallowed up by testosterone.

  To my right, Armando said something, but I missed it.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I turned to face him.

  “What are you doing this afternoon?” he repeated. “Got a hot date?”

  “Oh, I . . .” If I told him that I planned to go shopping with my mama, would he find me boring? Probably.

  “Actually, she does have plans.” Drew slipped his arm through mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Sorry.”

  Armando’s eyes narrowed to accusing slits. “You two are a couple?”

  A muscle tensed along the edge of Drew’s jaw. He shrugged, then slipped his arm over my shoulder.

  Armando wandered off, and I could almost feel the anger that coiled inside of him as he muttered, “Someone should’ve told me.”

  I glared at Drew, temper flaring. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  His tightened jaw appeared to relax. “Saving your neck. You can thank me later.”

  “I doubt it. First you interrupt my photo shoot, then you pretend you’re my . . . my . . .” I couldn’t make myself say the word.

  “Your boyfriend?” He gave my shoulder a squeeze as Armando spoke a few words to Bella, and they both looked my way.

  “Drew. Don’t.” I clenched my teeth. “Bella’s going to think—”

  I couldn’t finish the sentence, what with her heading my way, a perplexed look on her face.

  “Um, Hannah?” She glanced at Drew. “Drew? Something you two want to tell us?”

  “No. Definitely not.” I tried to shrug my way out of Drew’s embrace, but he held tight.

  “We’re not ready to talk about it yet,” he said with a smile.

  Armando drew close, his gaze narrowing as he gave me one last glance. Then he turned to Bella. “Tell Rosa I can’t stay for lunch, okay? I’ve got a hot date in Houston tonight and need to get back.” He lit into a detailed conversation about the woman he planned to meet at some bar near downtown, and I suddenly felt a little nauseous.

  In that moment I realized Drew had been right . . . about everything. I couldn’t really fault him for trying to save my neck. He wasn’t kidding when he said he knew Armando, now was he?

  With Drew’s arm still slung over my shoulder, we made our way to the front of the house . . . just in time to see Mama pulling her car into the driveway at Club Wed next door. She got out of the car and came bounding my way. I cringed a little when I noticed she was wearing her favorite Irish Lass T-shirt, circa 1996.

  Mama’s eyes flashed with merriment as she saw Drew’s arm around me. “Well, hello there.” She looked back and forth between us, clearly intrigued.

  “Hi, Mama. I, well . . . we were just finishing.”

  “Finishing what?” She giggled.

  “The photo shoot, of course.” I shrugged off Drew’s arm and cast a warning look at Armando, who took off for his car. “Mama, this is Drew Kincaid.” I fidgeted with my necklace and smiled weakly.

  “Is this the enemy?” Mama whispered in my ear a little too loudly. “The handsome fella who took the pictures at Brock’s wedding?”

  Drew must’ve overheard because he gave me a “why would you call me your enemy?” look. I shrugged, then turned back to Mama and tried to convince her—with my eyes, not my voice—to can it.

  Mama looked away from me and scrutinized Drew, her face lighting in a smile. “Well now . . .”

  Please, Mama, watch what you say.

  She turned back to me and shrugged. “Color me confused.”

  “Beg your pardon?” His brow wrinkled.

  “Oh, just thinking out loud. Nice to meet you, Drew. I’ve heard so much about your work. We’re all fans.”

  I glared at her, in part because I didn’t happen to be a fan, and in part because she shouldn’t be conspiring with the enemy.

  From behind us, Bella’s voice rang out. “Hannah, I know we’d planned to get some shots at Parma John’s, but I don’t think we’ll have time today.”

  “Oh, that’s fine. Really. I have so many great shots already. Plenty to choose from.”

  “I’m sure. Can’t wait to se
e them. I hope you can stay for lunch. I know Aunt Rosa would love that.”

  Before I could respond, Mama turned to face Bella and began stammering. “Oh! Oh, oh, oh!”

  Time to make introductions. “Bella, this is my mama—”

  “You have to introduce me to your aunt,” my mother interrupted before I could even finish giving her name.

  “My aunt?” Bella shifted the baby to her other hip. Tres chose that moment to start crying. Bella passed the baby off to me, then gazed at my mother. “You want to meet my aunt Rosa?”

  “Do I ever!” Mama clasped her hands together. “You have no idea what an honor this is. Is she home?”

  “Yes, she just went inside to start cooking lunch. It’s Saturday. She and Laz always cook for the whole family on Saturdays. You would be welcome to join us, of course.”

  Mama gave me a little wink. “This was meant to be. Your father has his bowling league on Saturdays.”

  Mama. Tell me you did not just agree to have lunch at the Rossi home.

  “You want to come inside and meet her?” Bella asked. “She’s always happy for company. And she could probably use your help since the whole crew is here today.”

  My mother’s cheeks flamed red. “Oh. No. I. Couldn’t. I’m. No. Cook.” Her stammered words caught me off guard.

  “Well of course you are,” I threw in. “You’re an expert at all sorts of things.” I began to list her credentials as if she were applying for a job as chief cook and bottle washer.

  “I mean, I’m not an Italian cook.” Mama’s eyelashes fluttered.

  “You will be in no time if you hang out with Rosa.” Bella grinned. “To be honest, I couldn’t cook a thing when D.J. and I got married, but Rosa has turned me into a gourmet. You should taste my ravioli.”

  “I’d love to.” Mama and I spoke in unison and then laughed.

  “Perfect. Because I’ve agreed to make some for this afternoon’s get-together. C’mon in and we’ll put you to work.”

  Mama gazed my way, a near-frantic look on her face. “You . . . you won’t tell your father?”