Page 21 of A Photo Finish
Golddigger85:Butterface?
I roll my eyes. Who doesn’t know that saying?
Pretty_in_Purple:But-her-face. You liked my picture, but what if I’m a total butterface?
Golddigger85:I wouldn’t expect you to show me your face.
Pretty_in_Purple:Okay, Captain Literal. What ifyou’rea total butterface? Maybe faces matter to me. I don’t think I’d like showing the goods to some nameless, faceless person on the internet.
Golddigger85:Are you sure about that?
Arousal zings through me, pinging around in my pelvis as I imagine myself doing what he’s asking. Touching myself on camera. What would his voice sound like? A shiver runs down my spine as my thumbs hover over the screen of my phone. I’m not sure, but I’ll never tell him that. I’m just sex-starved. That’s all.
Pretty_in_Purple:Yes.
Dots roll across the screen as he types back, and then a photo pops up on the screen. A selfie.
Golddigger85:Okay, what about now?
I tap the photo and take in the manicured dark scruff on the man’s perfectly square jaw. He’s wearing a hat that shadows the top half of his face, obscuring what sits above his straight, pronounced nose. I can’t even see the color of his eyes, no matter how close I zoom in. It’s dim wherever he is and almost looks like a basement or something.
Probably where he keeps all the bodies.
As I zoom back out, my eyes snag on his mouth, almost a little too shapely for the strength of his other features. He has nice lips, that perfect bow shape on the top one. And as I let my fingers fall away, I realize he has lots of nice other stuff too, because he’s not wearing a shirt. A strong neck, with a pronounced Adam’s apple. Big round shoulders, the bulge of one bicep visible where his arm is outstretched holding the phone. The shot cuts off before I can get farther down his chest, but I can see the sprinkling of hair and a line between his pectorals.
My mouth goes a little dry. Golddigger is cut. And suddenly I feel awkward. Flustered. So, I deflect, just like I did when my brothers would start inquiring about boyfriends.
Pretty_in_Purple:Even a butterface looks good in a hat.
Golddigger85:You saying I look good?
I exit the app quickly and shove it in the back pocket of my jeans.
That’s not a question I want to answer.
* * *
“Okay, spill.”Billie leans forward, shoulders to her ears, with a mischievous look on her face. “What’s it like living with the beast?”
Billie and Vaughn live in a cottage on the opposite side of the property, and it is the epitome of cozy. Open concept, exposed wood, big loft bedroom. It’s small and simple, but they love it, and it suits them perfectly. Plus, there’s a paddock right out the door where she can keep her horse, DD, close by. He’s fine. The fall stung him, and he was a little jumpy afterwards, but he’s healthy—thank God. Billie says he’s not racing until I’m ready to go again, so we’ll make up for lost time then even if it means running races closer together than we might otherwise. In the interim, he’s happily enjoying some down time and training with his favorite rider, Billie.
I can’t hold a candle to what the two of them have. I’m just lucky he lets me hang on for the ride now and then and that Billie is way too tall to be a jockey.
She’s been harassing me about coming over all week. She plied me with wine, and now we’re on glass number three. Andthisis why. I finally gave in because it’s Friday, and I’m bored of reading the steamy romance novels she left on my front porch. And nowthisis what I get.
I roll my eyes and mutter, “Snoopy bitch.” She just laughs, and I ask, “Does that make me Belle?”
“I don’t know. Are you going to have a snowball fight and fall in love with the big brute?” She cackles like it’s the most ridiculous thing in the world, and I try not to cringe. If you’d asked me that same question a year ago, I’d have sighed like a lovesick teenager and gone on dreaming about meeting Golddigger85 one day. I was so certain I was special to him, not just another girl he met on the internet, or I never would have taken it that far. Cheek-burning levels of far.
So, imagine my surprise when he reminded me I was just that. My heart aches more at the memory than I like to admit. He hurt me, and it was all my doing. I asked for more than he could give.
I shake my head and take a sip of the red wine Billie poured for me, tucking my mixed feelings down behind the big crystal bell. Hopefully.
“I’ve barely seen him all week. He works long hours. And I have nothing to do, so it’s not like I wake up early.”
“That’s not true. You came and hung out at the barn with me a few days.”
“In a chair with my leg propped up on a bucket. Where I was forced to watch everyone else have fun while I sulked on the sidelines.”
