“Uh oh.” She worried her bottom lip, and my attention zeroed in on it. Fuck. I wanted to sinkmyteeth into it.
I had to clear my throat and force out the words, “You need a different picture.”
Her eyes flashed to the screen. “What’s wrong with this one?”
“Not sexy enough.”
“Um…hello?” She gestured to herself. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly sexy.”
“I said the photo wasn’t sexy enough, not that you weren’t. But maybe I should rephrase. The current image is too buttoned-up, too stiff. Unapproachable.”
“Wow. Okay. I was trying to ward off the creeps, but also…do you know how hard it is to take a good photo of yourself?”
“Wren.” I laughed with a shake of my head. “You’re a professional photographer.”
“Exactly.” She leaned forward. “Which means I’m even pickier about the images I put out there because people will judge me more harshly, holding me to a higher standard.”
“I don’t think any of the guys on here are judging your photo-taking skills.” I knew I sure as hell wouldn’t be. I’d be focused on her sparkling blue eyes or her mouth.Fuck. That mouth.
“Ugh. Why do men have to be such pigs?”
“Are you telling me looks don’t matter?”
“No, but I still don’t understand why I need a new picture.”
“You’re serious about meeting someone, right?” I asked. And when she nodded, I said, “Then trust me.”
“Of course,” she answered immediately.
The longer we sat there, the more I wondered what the hell I’d done. Her bio was finally as amazing as she was. There was no way she was going to stay single long. Not when they realized she was even more incredible than the words I’d written about her.
Chapter Eight
Ireached for the pastry box, but Bennett pushed it away from me. I tried again, and he slid it farther out of my grasp. By this point, I was leaning halfway over the table.
“Bennett.” I clenched my teeth. “Iwantmy pastry.”
“Not yet.” He glanced at me briefly, then returned his attention to the computer, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “We need to finish your profile.”
I rolled my eyes and sank back down in my chair, trying to break the tension. I’d noticed that happening more often lately. He’d look at me, then look away, anger clouding his features. I didn’t understand it.
“Why is everyone else so invested in my love life?”
His fingers stilled on the keyboard. “Like who?”
“You, Liam, Harper.”
“First of all, you asked me for help. And Liam’s your overprotective—”
“I think you mean overbearing.”
He chuckled. “Maybe, but he loves you.”
“Does he really have to be so protective all the time? Even my dad is more chill than Liam.”
“It comes from a place of love.”
“Mm-hmm.” I crossed my arms over my chest, mostly so I could adjust my bra. It had been digging into me all afternoon, and I couldn’t wait to take it off.
