Page 7 of And Then There Was Us
She saw his cheeks rise behind the camera and knew he was teasing.
“Had a fab shoot yesterday. Wish you were here. The guy was hunkier than hunky,” Claude said as he climbed a stepladder.
Brianna listened to theclick, click, clickof the shutter, longing to be the one behind the camera. She found the sound as soothing as Layla found rubbing the ear of her stuffed Piglet doll and as inspiring as a writer’s muse.
“Did you hear me, Bree Bree?” Claude asked.
“Yes, sorry.”I was busy fantasizing.“Not interested. Thanks.”
Claude sighed and waved his hand at the models. The contrast between his cream-colored linen shirt and his coffee-bean-brown skin made Brianna wish once again that she had her camera in hand. It would be a long while before she would be able to replace her broken camera, but she held on to the dream of one day seeing the world through the safety of the filtered lens once again.
“Great job. Thank you for a hard day’s work,” Claude said to the couple before turning his back to them and whispering, “Beauty makes for a tough life. What I wouldn’t give to roll around on the sheets with that one.” He nodded to the lithe male model crossing the floor wearing nothing but black bikini briefs.
“You’re terrible. You say that about all the male models.”
Claude pulled his glasses down again and peered over them. The lights reflected off of his pointy bald head. “Good. Maybe some of my lusty leering will wear off on you.”
“Okay. On that note, I’m going to take off and get my lovely daughter from school. Is Reba coming by to help put things away?” Reba Wilkes was the sweet fiftysomething woman who ran his cleanup crew.
“Always,” Claude said. “I meant what I said. I really do wish you were here for that shoot. This guy had soulful eyes, and you could just tell he was a good one, despite his fame.”
Brianna waved as she walked toward the door. “Daughter, daughter, Claude. Talk to me in twelve years.” She hesitated at the doorway. “Love you for thinking of me, though.”
“Fine. Twelve years it is, but I need you on Saturday. Can you make it? Ten o’clock.”
Brianna bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. Saturday was going to be her first full day off in two weeks, and she’d planned on shopping for Layla’s birthday gift and taking Layla to the park later in the afternoon. They hadn’t been in ages, and Brianna had wanted some one-on-one time while the weather was still warm enough to enjoy it. She’d made enough in tips last week to splurge on lunch out, too, but the extra money from Claude would help toward her birthday party. She hadn’t told Layla about the park yet, so…
Claude must have seen her hesitation. “Stella won’t be back in time. I’ll throw in a little extra bonus.”
“Sure. Yes.”Sorry, Layla.
Chapter Five
HUGH ROUNDED THE racetrack at one hundred and eighty miles per hour. He’d been at the track since eight in the morning, after spending an hour at his home gym and going for a three-mile run. This was his last practice run. The world outside his windows went by in one thick blur, but Hugh didn’t see the bleachers melding into one another or the blob of fans standing outside the fence with their noses pressed against the gate. His vision was focused on the hood of the car, the road just beyond, and the curve of the track. His body, completely in tune to the vehicle, felt a slight drift to the right around the bend, and beyond the pristine roar of the engine that vibrated through his body, the only thing Hugh heard was his own mind noting the drift and calculating the strategy for the next race. There was no bigger thrill than race day, but practice came pretty close.
He downshifted on the straightaway and pulled into the pit. The pit crew flew around the car at lightning speed.
“Fix that drift,” Hugh said as he stepped from the car and felt the familiar sensation that everything around him was still moving. It took a few minutes for the hum of the engine to leave his body, and when it did, it stole a flash of the exhilaration from the ride.
“We’ve got it, Hugh. No problem,” Art assured him.
Hugh stood to the side as his heart calmed and the earth stopped moving under his feet. “Art.” He waved him over. Art was thirty-five with short, sandy hair and honest green eyes.
“Boss? Listen, we’ve got thi—”
Hugh put his arm around Art’s shoulder and walked him away from the crew. “Art, no more of that crap like last night, okay?”
Art smiled and held up his hands in surrender. “I heard you last night. No more setups. Got it.” He looked out over the track and then back at Hugh. “Was she really that bad?”
“Worse.” Hugh smiled. “The only good thing that came of it is that I found a place I can hang out without being recognized.”
“Really?”
“Yup. If I’m here for a week or two, I might as well have a place to grab dinner.”
Art pointed at him. “See, now, that’s why you need a wife.”
“No way. That’s why they make restaurants. I’m off the market, remember?” There was a time when Hugh would have fought to the death to protect his bachelor status, but now, as the words left his lips, his vehemence deflated. He didn’t want a wife to cook for him, but every day he was growing more certain that he wanted to have a real relationship with a woman. Something more thanwham, bam, thank you, ma’amwith women he barely remembered ten minutes after they were done in the sack.
