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"My eyes are up here."
"I was showing him an example."
"You got any other examples? Here maybe." He points to my chest.
"Fuck off."
"Sure." He reaches for his zipper. "But only if you promise to watch."
"Is there some timer in your head that keeps you from being serious for too long?"
"I'm dead serious, sunshine."
I roll my eyes.
"Now you're hurting my feelings."
"I'm not."
His lips curl into a smile. "No. You're not." He rolls his jeans back up his hips. "We both know the truth."
"I don't want to watch you fuck yourself."
He smiles yeah, you do. "You had to resort to sex."
"I won't next time."
"Suit yourself. But there's no shame in taking an easy path."
"I…"
"It's hard enough doing this job. Why make it harder?"
The bell rings as a guy about Dean's height steps inside. He has dark wavy hair, dark eyes, and an easy smile.
He's dressed like Dean—jeans, t-shirt, sneakers.
Effortlessly casual.
Effortlessly hot.
He surveys the scene and shakes his head. "You must be Chloe."
"Yeah." I offer my hand.
"Walker." He moves forward. Shakes. Leans in to stage whisper. "If Dean's giving you too much shit, let me know. I'll kick his ass."
"Didn't work too well for you last time," Dean says.
"I let you win."
"If I thought that was true, I'd kick your ass for it."
Walker chuckles. He turns to me. "You can shadow me tomorrow, Chloe. I'm doing some cool shit." He moves into his suite. "Or you can stick with Dean. He's a good artist, if you can get past his personality."
"I'm not sure I can."
"I'm not sure I blame you."
