Page 48 of Infinite

Except, for too many reasons to count, this isn’t the way I thought we’d end up in bed. It’s for a picture. I get it. And at first, I was having my share of fun with it. It was like something out of my wildest fantasies was suddenly coming true.

I loved teasing her and getting a rise. Loved seeing that blush I’m now officially addicted to. Except, all the fun and games wrapped up damn quick, didn’t they? All it took was a big wrench from the past to screw it up and beat all the good humor to death.

I’m not sure what made me think of that ring. I’m also not sure what made me bring it with me. My assets, belongings, everything I owned was court ordered to stay in New York. But when Neesa slipped into my apartment before my court date and before the ruling, she found the ring and took it with her, exactly as I’d instructed.

Mason suspected that the seizure of my assets was coming, given all the original charges pending against me. But instead of watches, shit from my safe, and things of value that I actually need, that ring . . . that was the one thing I begged Neesa not to leave my place without.

When Momma first offered it to me, I refused. Part of me, that part I bury deep and keep locked away, knew she was saying goodbye. She didn’t have much longer. She was done with life now that Daddy was gone.

So, what do I go ahead and do with that ring Ididn’twant? The one I couldn’t leave New York without? I went and slipped it on Becca’s finger. The woman who broke my heart.

I recognize the irony. Don’t think that I don’t. What I haven’t fully wrapped my head around is why.

“Are you ready, Hale?” Tootles calls out.

He has his high-tech camera ready to go. I’d hate to tell him no. He’s trying to help. They all are.

“Sure,” I say, faking an easy-going persona I recognize has left me high and dry. From the moment I thought of that ring, everything that kept the jokes and the teasing coming abandoned me, leaving me stuck in the past, pretending to have a good grasp on life even though I don’t. Nope. Not anymore.

I take off the robe and toss it behind me. From behind the closed bedroom door, the dogs whine. I’m hoping the little prissy one is trying to hump the moppy one like she did during the beach shots. That’s just embarrassing for both of them. Mostly, though, I’m hoping to get through this shoot.

Becca waits in the opposite corner bouncing nervously in place. I’m not sure if she’s looking my way. If she is, I hope she learned modesty isn’t part of my vocabulary, especially when I’m around her. At first, I might have used my blatant nudity as an intimidation tactic, just a little one. I wanted her to high-tail it out of my life when I first saw her in New York. Now . . . shit. I’m not sure what I want.

I slip beneath the cool and crisp white sheets, their softness skimming along my bare skin. Trin had sent a cleaning crew to straighten up earlier in the morning. “They’ll be there same day every week,” she texted. I’m not sure if she knew about the shoot. Hmph. Who am I kidding? As Becca’s bestie, Trin knows everything.

My hands make quick work of adjusting the sheet so it lays over my waist. Tootles fusses with the pillows, fluffing them. The heavy camera around this neck bats against his stomach as he directs me closer to the center of the bed. He dismissed the staff as fast as he could and got to work, fretting with the light and the layout, trying to create the best post-sex morning his little heart could envision.

There wasn’t all that much to do near as I could figure. The home is staged to sell. Everything looks perfect, except for the bed that Tootles made appear very much played in. To add to the naughty night theme, he laid out a fresh pair of panties and a bra near where Becca’s side of the bed will be, positioning them just so to appear as if they were tossed during the heat of passion.

I’m trying not to think about the see-through teal bra or its matching thong. Mostly, because I can picture Becca wearing them. Thongs, sweet lacy bras, these are things she would wear. To this day, I remember the feel of her bra against my teeth that night I pulled her taught nipple into my mouth.

Damn. Where am I again?

“Don’t worry about what happens to your hair,” Tootles says, pulling me back to reality. “Messy is better and leaves more to the imagination.”

I drag my hand through it. “All right,” I say, since, y’all know my hair is all I’m thinking about now.

“This is your moment, Hale,” Tootles says, his excitement building. “Think of it as a story. Your story had all these twists and turns you weren’t expecting, but now the drama is behind you. Now, there’s only peace and the promise of a bright and peaceful future.”

“Right,” I say.

I don’t know Tootles. He seems like a good guy and he strikes me as someone who guards a fair amount of secrets from being around the famous people he associates with. It’s probably why he looked away and got busy when Becks and me stepped out of the bathroom.

Or hell, maybe he saw something between us we didn’t want him to.

Tootles rushes to the tripod, adjusting the second camera he set up. This one has a remote that’s hooked to his belt loop. According to him, he’ll press it throughout the shoot to get several shots from different angles. It keeps the set intimate, he told us, and allows him to disappear.

I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I understand now. I sink into the bed as instructed, thinking only of Becca and what the next hour will bring.

Tootles begins to fade away, his voice lowering so it’s barely audible. He looks at me through the lens, adjusts the light just so, and peels back the sheet so it lays at an angle. The man who made a big fuss about the “nudies” is gone. The professional stager, photographer, and creative director has arrived and is very much front and center.

“Very good,” Tootles says. “I’ll direct you as we go, if needed. For the most part, forget that I’m here. Take my suggestions about altering your position and make them yours. It’s the best way for them to look natural.”

He shakes out his hand and, I suppose, the nervousness he’s feeling. “One more thing. Don’t look at the camera. You were good about it outside, but right now is especially important.”

“Got it,” I assure him, my voice lowering.

“Becca,” he calls. “We’re ready for you. Hale, tuck your hands behind your head. Tilt your chin in the direction of the window and toward the light.No. Too much. I need to see both your eyes. Good.”

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