Liam: Yeah.
Me: Stay there. I'm on my way.
I call Rob next. “Hi, this is Avery Carter. Harper Hayes gave me your number.”
“Right, the last-minute shoot. What are we talking about?”
“Professional athlete with six puppies. I need candid, warm, approachable shots. Can you meet me at this address?” I give him Liam's building information.
“See you there,” Rob says, not sounding fazed at all by my request. I guess he’s seen it all in New York.
The Uber ride to Liam's building gives me exactly twenty minutes to think. The images will hit social media this afternoon, meaning tomorrow’s media day attention won’t be on Liam’s weekend…activities.
Rob is waiting outside when I arrive, camera bag slung over his shoulder and a second bag that probably contains lighting equipment. He's younger than I expected, maybe late twenties.
“Avery?”
“That's me. Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
“Harper doesn't ask for favors often. Plus, puppies? Anytime. What's the vibe we're going for?”
“Natural. I want people to see who this guy really is at home.”
“Got it. Let's do this.”
Liam buzzes us and we head up together. My stomach tightens as we approach Liam's door. I can hear barking, which makes me relax somewhat.
Liam opens the door before I can knock. He's wearing gray sweatpants and a Renegades t-shirt, hair still damp like he’s just come from the shower. Inappropriate image pop into my mind and I quickly shut them down.
His smile fades when he sees Rob. “What's going on?”
“This is Rob, photographer. We're doing a shoot.”
“A shoot?” Liam's gaze moves between us, confused and wary. “Of what?”
“You and the puppies.“ I step past him into the apartment, with Rob following. “You playing with them, holding them, being the guy who saved their lives.”
The living room is fairly neat. That sitter is certainly doing her job. Princess—aka Avery—immediately trots over to me, tail wagging, and a tug pulls at my chest.
“Hi, baby,” I croon, crouching to pet her. I smile at the memory of Liam trying to name the puppy after me. Thankfully, we settled for Princess.
“Avery, I don't understand,” Liam says, sounding put off. I guess anyone would be if they were ambushed, but this is his mess to clean.
“Media day is tomorrow,” I say, straightening and brushing puppy hair off my blazer. “Every reporter is going to ask about your weekend. We need to give them something else to talk about.”
Liam crosses his arms, and I force myself not to notice how the movement emphasizes his biceps or how the t-shirt stretches across his chest. “So you want to use the puppies as a distraction?”
“I want to show people who you really are.”
He shakes his head. “I don't want to exploit them for PR.”
“It's not exploitation. It's truth.” I gesture to the puppies, who are now investigating Rob's equipment. “This happened. You did this. Why shouldn't people know about it?”
Rob clears his throat. “For what it's worth, I'll keep it natural. No forced poses, no fake moments. Just you being yourself with them. If it feels wrong at any point, we stop.”
Liam sighs. “Fine. Do I need to change?”
“No, you’re fine as you are,” Rob says.
