Page 68 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

“Maybe you jinxed me.”

“Maybe you’re just a moron,” I shoot back.“I just want to show her a fun time. I want her to feel like she can relax with me, not put on a mask like she probably does in public, you know? The brewery seems like a good place for that.”

“Ok, not a horrible idea,” Brody admits.

I pull my phone out to check the time.

“Gotta run, I’m grabbing flowers for her first.”

“Before you go to a rose garden?”

“Yes, shut up. Eat your sandwich.”

I skip the flowers. Brody got in my head, the stupid prick. I run a hand through my hair, trying to calm my nerves while waiting at Sophie’s front door. It’s a different sort of anxiety than filming with someone for the first time. I want co-stars to appreciate my professionalism–when I’m not trying to make out with them. I want Sophie to appreciate… all of me, I suppose.

A nude Sophie is a sight to behold, but in her cut-off shorts and black, cropped tank top, hair flowing over her shoulders in those soft curls, she’s perfect. She’s a vision, standing there with the door open, waiting.

Waiting for me to speak.

Shit, I didn’t hear what she said. I’m not even sure I was breathing.

“You look beautiful.”

“Oh, er, thanks.” She looks down at her clothes and I realize that this might be her casual look for a first date. I’m awestruck nonetheless.

“Ready?” I ask, stepping back and allowing her to exit the townhouse.

“Absolutely.” Her smile is infectious, her lips coated in a dark red that has just a hint of purple. The outfit may be casual, but the lip color adds a bit of sin.

Sophie steps out the door and turns to lock it. But when she spins around to follow me to my car, parked out on the street, I gently grab her wrist and turn her back around to face me. Our chests pressed together, I wrap a gentle arm around her waist and use my other hand to cup her cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” It feels like an odd question, given all we’ve done. Given how I’m holding her now. The heat between our bodies is already causing mild discomfort in my shorts. Sophie blinks at me as if startled. “I’m playing this by the book.”

“No bombarding me, hm?” she asks, but there’s a devious twinkle in her brown eyes.

“No sneak attacks.” I remove my hand from her cheek and hold up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“Then I suppose I’ll allow it.”

Lowering my head, I brush my lips along hers, just a ghost of a touch. I breathe her in, her scent a mixture of florals and citrus. When I press my lips to hers, it takes every ounceof control not to tighten my arm still around her waist, not to roll my hips, not to slip my tongue into her mouth and entangle my fingers in her hair.

Instead, after only a brief moment of contact, I lift my head. Sophie’s eyes are closed when I pull away, her lips parted. When her eyes flutter open, there’s a look of confusion in those golden brown depths.

“Ready to see some roses?” I ask, my voice husky and deep and far too lustful to be safe.

Sophie swallows and nods, then steps away and out of my embrace. Time to show her that I actually know how to be a gentleman.

The rose garden stays open until dusk and on a Monday evening, it’s not overly busy. We stroll along the paths of perfectly manicured grass, stopping along the way to admire a particularly perfect blossom here and there.

“So how long have you been in our line of work?” Sophie asks, straightening after having bent down to smell a beautiful yellow rose.

“About six years.” We continue walking.

“Four, for me,” she says, not looking over at me. Instead, she turns her head from side to side, eyes focused on the beautiful bushes. “I was solo for a couple of years, then started working with locals for about a year before I was able to travel a little for work.”

“Women are lucky,” I muse. “Your solo content is much better received than a man’s. Not that I’m complaining,” I add when Sophie shoots me a look that I can’t decipher. “It’s just hard to convince people to work with you when you’re a new guy.”

“I get that.” She nods and continues to study the flowers. “I’ve had to implement some rules on who I work with. A couple bad eggs will ruin the whole thing.”

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