Page 29 of Cross the Line
‘Dev.’ She slumps back in her seat. ‘What did Ijustsay?’
I groan. The innuendos are like second nature, especially with her. ‘No flirting. Yeah, got it. But come on, you set yourself up for that one.’
‘Okay, true,’ she concedes. ‘But that’s it, all right?’
Is this censorship she’s pushing for my benefit or for hers? To know she doesn’t regret what happened between us is the kind of information I don’t need, because it’s certainly not helping me get past the lingering tightness in my chest and the voice in my head telling me to sayfuck itand flirt to my heart’s content.
I finally pull into our families’ shared driveway and throw the SUV into park behind my father’s mid-life crisis mobile – a Mascort 241 sports car. The same one I nearly got sued by Argonaut over when I posted a picture of me posing with it on my socials. I sure do love my team and their fragile ego.
‘Let me grab my stuff,’ I tell her as we both get out of the car. ‘I’ll meet you back here in twenty, and I’ll take you to my favourite spot.’
Without another word, I haul her bags out of the back and roll them up to her front door. I’m turning toward my house when her hand lands on my arm, dragging my attention back down.
‘We’re going to fix this,’ she softly reassures. ‘I promise.’
Does she mean the tension between us or my fucked-up public perception? Unsure, all I can do is nod. For once in my life, words fail me.
That’s one more thing I can credit Willow with. Not only is she my good-luck charm, but she’s the only person I know who can leave me speechless.
CHAPTER 11
Willow
Dev’s golden skin shimmers in the sunlight like the rays were made specifically to beam down on him.
I’m mortified by how much I’ve been staring at him. And by staring, I mean gawking. Practically freaking drooling. I’m reachingthrow myself into the ocean and never come outlevels of embarrassment over it, but at least I can blame my job for all the attention I’ve directed his way for the past two hours.
‘How about a couple of shots with your wetsuit around your hips?’ I request over the sound of the waves. God, I hope I’ve gotten enough sun today to disguise my undeniable blush.
Dev shakes his head, dark hair and water flying everywhere. ‘What did I tell you about trying to get me naked, Willow?’ he calls back, but he’s already pulling his arms free of the black neoprene as he wades closer to the shore.
I ignore the quip and lift my camera again, snapping shot after shot of him emerging from the waves, each one revealing a little more skin. I’m not the best photographer, but I took a couple of classes in college, so I know my way around a DSLR. Today, my goal is to capture images that are true to Dev.
People should know the real him – but only as much as he’s willing to show. There’s no point in invading his privacy; it won’t benefit him more than it’ll harm him, and that’ll just put us back at square one.
‘This good?’ he asks once the wetsuit is shoved down to his hips. The deep V of them is so defined that it’s like an arrow pointing to hidden treasure. Treasure that isn’t hidden all that well in the tight material. ‘Or do you want me in my birthday suit?’
‘This is fine!’ I shout, keeping the camera in front of my face to hide anything my expression may give away. ‘Could you turn around? Just look out into the water.’
He does as he’s asked, but the sight of his back does nothing to calm my hormones. The guy is just . . . ripped. Head to toe. And I feel like a creep for ogling him like this.
I’ve seen him shirtless hundreds of times, but I can’t deny the past few years have been incredibly kind to him. Maybe Chantal was right after all. Maybe there isn’t any harm in a secret hookup, because who in their right mind could resist a man that fine?
I shake away the thought as quickly as it appears because there’sa lotwrong with it. I’ve already made it clear to Dev that nothing can happen, but a couple of his comments in the car hinted that I’m not the only one with more-than-friendly feelings. It both boosts my ego and sets off warning bells in my head. But this is going to be a lot harder to resist if the attraction is mutual.
‘Okay, I’ve got what I need!’ I let the camera rest against my chest and wave him over to the edge of the water. ‘Want to see them?’
When he’s beside me, I scroll through the snaps on the camera’s small screen, snickering while he belly-laughs at some of the less flattering action shots. It feels natural to be shoulder to shoulder, and I can only hope this ease between us continues for the rest of the time we’re working together.
‘They’re great,’ Dev concludes, dropping down onto the sand next to his abandoned surfboard, arms stretched out behind him as he leans back. ‘Post whatever you want. I trust you to make me look my best.’
‘Daring words.’ I smooth my dress behind my thighs before sitting next to him and admiring the waves. I may have been apprehensive about coming home, but I can’t deny that I’ve missed the beach, even as a self-proclaimed city girl these days. ‘I’ll write up something about fresh starts and getting through tough times, to go along with the pictures. From there, we’ll start posting stuff from race weekends and brand deals, but we’ll keep doing these more down-to-earth shoots too.’
I glance over at him, unsure of how he’ll react to my next question. ‘Would you be comfortable showcasing your sister’s wedding? It doesn’t have to be anything about her. Just pictures of you and the setting. Something to show off how close you are to your family. Your sponsors would eat that up.’
Dev lets his head loll back and grins. ‘Admit it, you want shots of me slathered in haldi so you can use them as blackmail.’
‘Don’t put ideas in my head,’ I warn. ‘I can make that happen.’
