Chapter 595 A Snapshot in the Snow

Wyatt stood a short distance away, quietly watching Yunice enjoy the snow.

When she finally tired of stomping around, he said, “The plum blossoms over there look good. Want to cut a few for a vase?”

“Sure.” Yunice walked over while Wyatt, hands in his coat pockets, followed behind.

She picked up a pair of garden shears and stood by the plum tree, examining the branches before deciding which one to clip.

Just as she reached up in concentration, the tree gave a slight shake. A few snowflakes drifted down from the branches.

Then she heard the sound of a camera shutter–two quick clicks.

Startled, Yunice turned sharply to see Wyatt resting one hand on the tree, the other holding up his phone, the lens pointed right at her.

So he had shaken the tree on purpose.

“You took my photo?!” she demanded.

She lunged for the phone, but Wyatt stepped back and raised it high out of her reach.

Yunice stretched onto her toes, grabbing for his wrist. Wyatt, seeing how worked up she was, finally said, “Just one. It didn’t even turn out well.”

“You took it without asking! And I’m wearing these ugly shoes!” she snapped.

Wyatt glanced at his phone and said calmly, “They’re not ugly.”

“They are! Delete it!” Yunice insisted, reaching again.

When she couldn’t grab it, she pinched Wyatt’s side instead. He flinched, instinctively pulling away–he was ticklish–and she finally snatched the phone.

To keep him from grabbing it back, she turned around and shielded the screen with her body like a cat hoarding something.

The screen was still lit. One glance at the photo made her face go green.

What kind of horrendous angle was that…? The shot was so blurry it could pass for a white-furred monkey, typical man–with the photography skills of a blind goose.

She deleted it instantly. After triple-checking there were no other sneak shots, she handed the phone back.

Wyatt folded his arms, looking down at her little face peeking from under her hood, amusement dancing in his eyes. “So you won’t take pictures with ugly shoes. If I swap them for pretty ones, will you let me?”

He turned and called toward the house. “Bring Yunice’s white diamond stilettos.”

A maid quickly retrieved the exact pair from the entryway shoe rack and jogged them over.

Wyatt took off his coat and laid it down on the snow, then turned to change her shoes.

Yunice instinctively pulled her foot back, a little dazed. Wasn’t this scene–him kneeling in the snow to change her shoes–a bit too… intimate?

But Wyatt had already caught her ankle. Seeing her frozen in surprise, he reminded her, “Hold onto something or you’ll fall flat on your face.”

She wobbled slightly as he guided her foot forward, and reflexively steadied herself on his shoulder.

The stilettos lay there on his coat–bright and beautiful against the snow.

His hand cupped her arch gently, not leaving her exposed to the cold too long.

Once one shoe was on, he didn’t let go. Instead, he motioned for her to rest that foot on his jacket, so it wouldn’t freeze on the snow.

He was right. The heels had thin soles and open tops–standing directly in the snow would numb her in minutes.

Yunice bit her lip, following his lead and stepping down onto the coat.

Under the cloak, her hands curled nervously. Her face burned.

Why did the whole thing feel strangely… suggestive?

Wyatt said nothing. His lashes lowered slightly, his gaze glancing over the elegant curve of her ankle. His Adam’s apple bobbed faintly.

Soon, he helped her into the other shoe as well.

Standing, he said calmly, “There. Now that you’re beautiful again, let’s retake the photo.”

“I never agreed to a photo,” Yunice retorted.

“But you already changed shoes. Wouldn’t it be a shame to waste it?” he asked.

“I…”

He raised the phone again. “If you don’t get ready, I’m taking another bad one.”

“I–wait!” Yunice scrambled to pose.

Hand on the tree? Peace sign? What should she do with her feet? How do you even smile naturally?

Before she could decide, Wyatt stepped into frame beside her.

Startled, she turned to look at him.

Click

He’d snapped the photo already.

She peeked at the screen.

The frame caught a tip of the plum branch, the two of them standing beneath it. They were mid-turn, gazing at each other. Snow drifted gently down, catching in their hair, glinting white against black.

Another sneak shot.

Wyatt checked the image, saved it, and then showed her. “This one turned out nice. I’m keeping it.”