Page 77 of Castings & Curses

Her fingers slid through my hair, and she did something that would supposedly make me more attractive. She had a big job on her hands.

“Brutally honest? A little misguided? Completely oblivious to the fact that just because they are in the same bathing suit, they don’t actually look the same?”

“That was pretty damn cute of them,” I said.

“It really was. Liv has been asking about going back to the water park all week.”

“So we’re still on for tomorrow?” I asked.

“Of course we are. We didn’t really set a time,” she pointed out.

“Lunch. I’ll bring the sandwiches if you bring the drinks.”

“That sounds like a plan. So what awkward comments were you referring to?”

She moved my hair around so part of it fell in my face. She was a smart woman. Standing back, she looked at me, but not at me the person, me the work she was sculpting for this calendar. With a twist that somehow put her breasts dangerously close again, she called back at the photographer. “How’s the lighting? Are the chicks ready?”

“I’ve already tested the lighting when we set up. Kayla is bringing the chicks now.”

“What exactly is it you want me to do?” I asked.

“I want you to sit there and hold as many baby chicks as you can.” She approached me again and began rolling up my shirt sleeves.

Damn, she was touching me again.

“Be sure to flex. What were you saying about Sarina?”

I closed my eyes and committed the feel of Paisley’s fingers against my skin to memory.

“That crazy bit where I should be Liv’s father. I’m sure your husband didn’t find that nearly as funny as I think the girls did.”

Paisley cleared her throat and stepped away from me. “Yeah, that was kind of awkward. I don’t think they quite understand that you can’t step outside your relationship to parent another. So that was probably more awkward for you. I’m divorced. Liv’s father has had very little to do with her, and doesn’t even acknowledge this one.”

“Oh, shit, Paisley, that’s rough. I’m sorry for your situation. We lost Sarina’s mother. She’s been obsessed with the idea of having two parents, but she’s never known it. It must be tough to have known it and then to suddenly not have it any longer.”

I caught the sadness in her smile as she blinked back a few tears.

“I’m so sorry for your loss. It sounds like we are both in hard spots. Oh, chickees. Aren’t they sweet?”

The arrival of a box of squeaking fluff distracted Paisley better than anything I could have said. The look of delight as she scooped one small chicken out of the box was magical.

“Here hold this.” She handed me the bird.

And then she and the photographer's assistant, Kayla, began placing chicks all over me like I was some kind of chicken Christmas tree, and they were the ornaments.

“Smile,” the photographer said.

I smiled.

“Maybe, try glaring at the camera instead. You know, be all broody.”

Kayla snorted. “Broody, you made a chicken joke.”

The little birds were moving around and jumping out of the shot. Paisley picked up one escapee and looked deep into its little chicken eyes. “I wish you would behave.”

She must have been some kind of chicken whisperer. Suddenly, all the little birds stayed relatively still.

“Remember to flex,” she told me.

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