Page 9 of The Girlfriend Zone

“I already wear black boxer briefs. I can show them to you if you want,” he says with a tease on his mouth. His lush, sexy, flirty mouth that belongs to a man, not a boy.

Never have I wanted a man to strip so badly. That’s why I say, “You know what? I’m just going to trust you on that.”

“Fair enough. And I’ll trust you to help me focus on the client. I can tell this is important to you,” he says, his tone serious. All the flirting has been stripped away now. “I want it to go well.”

Holy shit. He’s not flirting—he actually cares about my job.

And that only makes me like him more. “Thank you. That means a lot to me—that opinion.”

“Good,” he says with a smile that’s too disarming.

I turn around for real, vowing to take several deep breaths and focus entirely on the client who’s about to arrive. I steady my breathing as I check my Nikon’ssettings. I have the lens perfectly adjusted, when my phone buzzes with an incoming text and I scan it.

Dad: Still on for breakfast tomorrow at the usual?

I told Birdie he’d never disappoint me. He’s the most dependable person I know. Just like how he’s never missed a game coaching the Sea Dogs in five years, he’d never miss a breakfast with his daughter.

I write back that I can’t wait, then tuck my phone away to focus on the guy who’s with me. Briefly, I imagine introducing Miles to my dad at some point. After a few dates.

And…that’s a risky thought. One best ignored for now. Good thing my phone rings— in my ears—shifting my focus. It’s probably Katrina looking for parking. That’s a state of life in San Francisco.

I hit answer. “Hey, Katrina, are you here? The lot can be hard to find, but I can tell you where it is.”

“I’m so sorry. My youngest is sick. The school just called, and I need to go pick him up. His dad’s out of town, and my mom’s at work. I know I paid a nonrefundable retainer, but I just can’t make it today.”

My shoulders sag. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m so sorry he’s sick. Of course we can reschedule.”

She promises to get back to me soon, and when I hang up, I turn to find Miles sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at me expectantly. “She’s not coming?”

“Did you hear that? Our conversation?” I ask, surprised. The phone connects with my hearing aids, so any noise or sound from my phone goes directly into my ears.

He shakes his head. “No, but I could see the disappointment in your eyes.”

Oh. He’s good with facial expressions too. That’s…interesting. Unusual too. He pauses, his gaze thoughtful. “You really wanted this to happen today, didn’t you? Not just for her—for yourself too?”

I swallow. He’s been flirty, direct, and clever, but this...this understanding side of him? The way he reads me? It’s all new to me. And because it is, I choose honesty. “I was really looking forward to it,” I admit. “I had some great ideas. Some new poses I wanted to capture.”

The studio goes quiet. I can almost see the gears turning in his mind. Then he stands, strides over to me, and offers me a hand. “Use me. Show me what you wanted to do.” He steps even closer—dangerously so. “Practice with me.”

5

JUST LIKE THAT

Leighton

I have steady hands. No one wants a photographer with shaky fingers, so I have half a mind to reprimand myself as I set the Nikon on the tripod carefully, fighting against my own nerves.

Am I really doing this? Filling in for my client with the sick kid? And doing it with the guy who’s standing in for a zombie hunter—Birdie’s grandson, no less?

I could change my mind. I could say,you know what? There’s no need for this, but I appreciate the offer. Except, one glance around the studio I share with other boudoir photographers—the studio I bookedandpaid for today—and I’m not sure I can find a reasonable excuse to back out.

It’s not against a photographer’s code of conduct.

I’m not stealing time from someone else.

The only issue is me, and the attraction I feel for this man. I don’t want it to get in the way of my judgment.

So yeah, I can do this but with some rules. I need control over this shoot, over myself. It’s not that I don’t trust him—I don’t trust how easily he could make me drop my guard. I’ve spent too long building my walls to let them crumble in one afternoon.

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