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Chapter Ten
Mia
I arrived at the conference room and saw that it had been transformed into a display area for my shoes. A section of it was left looking like a conference room, with my sketch pads lining the table. The setup was brilliant. I thought it might have been Terry’s doing.
It was almost like he had read my thoughts, because out of nowhere, he appeared in dark jeans, a black button-up shirt, and his cowboy boots. Seeing those cowboy boots made me smile. They were his trademark. He may have attempted to do his hair, but it was disheveled from his hands running through it or from pushing it behind his ears. As if he knew I was staring, he chose that moment to address me.
“Hey, pretty lady. Do you want to go make yourself beautiful for me?” he asked in his signature southern drawl. Why did I always notice his accent more when he wore his cowboy boots?
“Yes, sir.” I saluted him, to which he answered with a wink. A blush crept up my cheeks, and my smile would not leave my face as I headed toward the makeup chairs.
I spent my time smiling and thinking about Terry. I thought about the last time he took my picture, and my smile grew even wider.
* * *
“Where would you like me?” I asked.
Terry would be shooting the cover for Shape magazine tomorrow, and I could tell he was nervous. When I returned from work, I’d found the furniture covered in white sheets and brightwhite-and-blue backdrops made to look like the sky.
“Right there,” he said, gesturing. “You know, this would go a whole lot easier if you would put on a bikini too, darlin’.”
I sighed, trying my best to be irritated. “You’re lucky I’m doing this at all. I’ve had a rough day at work dealing with models. I don’t want to come home and be one. Plus, how would me in a bikini make this any easier?”
“You know what would be easier right now? If you would stop gesturing and hold still,” he said with a laugh, imitating my movements.
“Oh, you mean like this?” I raised my arms above my head and waved them around, shaking my hips to an imaginary beat.
“Mia,” Terry warned.
“Yes, cowboy?” I said, doing my best to sound seductive.
“Work first, playtime later.”
“Are you really going to wear those cowboy boots on set tomorrow?” I asked him.
“Yes, ma’am, I am. These boots represent my roots. I was just a lonely farm boy in Texas, taking pictures of the vast open spaces and rolling hills.” He flashed a cocky grin before continuing. “Now, I take pictures of bikini models. That’s something to me.”
“It is. But, honey, there’s not much difference between those vast open spaces and your bikini models. Not much substance there, if you ask me, cowboy.”
“Uh-huh. I think someone is jealous,” he gloated.
“No, not jealous. Just, um...”
Before I could muddle through my reasoning, he jumped in. “Look, you’ve got nothing to worry about. And this is a big deal for me, so please be supportive.”
“I am, I am. I just don’t want to see you get all noble about making your big break. They’re just bikini models, not soldiers returning from war.”
“I know that. But I’m a fashion photographer, so, for me, this is a big step in my career.”
“I know, baby. And you’ll do great,” I tried to reassure him. But all the while, I felt guilty about belittling his accomplishment. Bikini models or not, this was a big deal. It was the cover of a major fitness magazine.
“I will do great if the models photograph half as well as you do.” He smiled, staring down at the camera he always used for test shots. “Beautiful.”
“You’ve been taking my picture while I talk?” I asked him, and he nodded. “Oh, Terry, my mouth is probably hanging open.”
“Well, come here and have a look. You look beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.” He looked at me and smiled. “Thanks for helping me. I love you.”
“Love you too. And I am so very proud of you,” I said as I made my way over to him. I wrapped my arms around him as I turned to look at his viewfinder.
