Page 23 of Slash & Burn

I didn’t like his tone. “Yeah, she’s amazing.”

“Looks it,” he replied sarcastically, glancing back at me as if I’d agree with him.

I shoved my hands in my pockets to hide the fists I was making. “She’s not in love with the camera, but we’ll get what we need.”

Marjorie shook her head, her disapproval so undeniable I stepped to the side, trying to block Jill from catching sight of her. “I’m not so sure about that. Maybe we can talk to the library and get someone else. She looks more menacing than welcoming.” Looking back at me, she asked, “Are the kids scared of her?”

When I cleared my throat, the three of them whipped my direction. “She’s done a fantastic job. We just got started, I’ll get her to loosen up.”

Considering I’d been trying for the last hour, I wasn’t sure I could actually pull that off, and I knew telling Jill to lighten up was only going to make things worse. But I had to think of something, because her getting kicked off this program would be even worse than if the whole thing failed.Sheneeded to pull this off or they’d definitely cut her, so I had to get her to relax somehow.

With my own unease building I went back over to the set, asking the photographer to give us a second.

Jill eyed me suspiciously. “They with you?” She jutted her chin in the direction of the three suits, her eyes flicking over my shoulder before finding mine again.

“Yeah, came to see how their campaign was coming along.”

Her shoulders dropped and she nodded weakly. “They seem impressed.”

I laughed under my breath. “Well, I told you to wear my jersey instead of the blank one.”

That got the fire back in her eyes. She glared at me a second before she said, “They didnotsay that.”

“No,” I confirmed, reaching out to rub my hand down her arm, relief unfurling at the slightest sign of the Jill I knew. “But I knowI’dbe more comfortable if you wore it.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’ll be as ridiculous as you need me to be here, okay. Just tell me what I can do to make this less awful.”

Her gaze dropped to the floor, and I felt her shrinking back into herself right in front of me. “I’m sorry, I’m the worst.”

“Not the worst. I promise. I did a shoot last year with our goalie, AJ. He was the worst.” She looked up at me, curiosity and amusement sifting in her eyes, so I went on. “He was like a robot. Like the tin man. The photographer had to literally walk over after every shot and put him into position. She’d move his arms and hands, and he’d stay stiff as a board until the flash went off, and then he’d move and she’d have to do it all over again. It took three hours to get one usable shot. It was fucking torture.”

The corner of her mouth curled. “So, as long as I don’t do that, I’m okay?”

“You’re already okay.” I sighed, realizing how hard she was being on herself. And that the three pairs of eyes on us now weren’t helping. “Ignore them. Ignore the photographer even. Just hang with me. Pretend no one else is here. You’re doing fine, but try to have some fun with it.”

Jill looked at me like I was nuts, her brow bent as she shook her head. “Doyouhave fun with this?”

I liked that she seemed shocked that I would, because I hated these shoots as much as her. I’d just accepted them as part of the package when I went pro. It was like a toll I paid in order to access the career I loved. But no, I didn’t have fun at them. And her knowing that was pretty cool.

Leaning down so only she could hear me, I whispered, “I think the only photo shoot that would ever be fun would be one of those boudoir shoots.” When she jerked back to look at me I waggled my eyebrows and she started to laugh. “Right? Come on, that has to be a good time.” I did a little dance, and winked at her, which only made her laugh harder.

“I can’t with you. You’re a child.”

The sight of her laughing shot a dose of pleasure through me so potent I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out and wrapping her in my arms. I held her against my chest as we both laughed, only letting her go to say, “I’d rather be young at heart than whatever the opposite is.”

Jill looked up at me, her gaze flitting around my face. Being that close to her, I could smell the flowery perfume she had on, see the flecks of gold in her light brown irises. I was taking in her details as much as she was mine, and I didn’t want to stop.

“Ready to try again?” the photographer asked, poking her head into our bubble with a hopeful smile.

“You bet,” I replied, my eyes lingering on Jill one more second before I took a step back.

As much as she tried, Jill’s fear kept sneaking in. Her back would go stiff and her smile would turn into a plastic mold, lifeless and dim compared to the one I knew so well. The only way I could get her to loosen up, even for a minute or two, was to bust out the old porno-tune from high school. Each time she went cold, I’d do a little shimmy and mutter under my breath, “Brown-chicken, brown-cow.” She’d crack up every time and the photographer would snap away, her face practically glowing when she’d see the shots on her monitor.

“I think we got it,” she finally announced, her words like a pin popping the tense bubble of the room.

“Thank god,” Jill sighed under her breath, the drama of it making me laugh.

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