“I can do it,” I say—the words out of my mouth before they’ve even formed into a conscious thought.
“What?” Her big brown eyes blink up at me, a small frown of confusion slowly forming.
“What, what?” I cock my head. “I’m single, and it sounds kind of fun. I’m always up for new experiences.”
“You asked if I had time to chat a bit after the shoot…”
I grin and bite my lip, because yes. Yes, I did. I point at my open backpack on the table she’s leaning against, where my camera peeks out. “That wasa professional invitation, actually. I’m kind of obsessed with your work. I didn’t know you were in town, but when your name popped up on the HandlR app, I had to butt in and snag the job for myself.”
“Uh. You shoot?” she asks. “And—wait—you snagged the assistant job from someone else?”
“I’m a co-owner of the app.”
“Huh.”
“And yes, I shoot. Still consider myself an amateur, but I like it. A lot.” I’m not much into portraits and shit, more of a nature guy myself, but I’ve been following her on socials for ages and just had to take the opportunity to learn a thing or two.
“Glad to hear it,” she says. “Because I have a fiancée and I was thinking of a nice way to turn you down.”
I chuckle. “I know. You already told me about her, remember? And you seem nice enough and all, but…” I lean closer and stage-whisper. “I like dick. A lot.”
She’s the one snickering now. “Well, I guess that settles it.” The corner of her mouth lifts before her expression shifts into a slight frown.
“What?”
“Did you see him come in? It only works if you’re strangers, you know. It’s called a Stranger Session for a reason.”
I shrug and push my dark curls back. “Kinda. Not really. All I saw was the hood pulled over his head and the back of his leather jacket.”
And the kick-ass TXC biker boots I’ve had my eye on for a while now.But I’m not telling Sadie that. You don’t own those if you don’t ride. And the fact that he might be a rider could be the deciding factor here.
One of them, anyway.
I’m easy. Laid back. I like spontaneous shit—going on an adventure, so to speak. I’m not one to stay cooped up for long, or live a nine-to-five life with the same job every day and a couple of kids running around. That’s not me.
I like my freedom. I like riding, traveling. I like being able to say “fuck it” in the middle of my day and join a photoshoot just because I feel like it.
And because I’m a tad curious about the guy in those boots.What kinda bike does he have?
“Good enough for me.” She nods, gesturing at my hoodie. “But lose the sweater. Do you have anything underneath without the company logo?”
I look down at the hot-pink HandlR logo on my chest—a smaller copy of the bigger one stamped across my back—and shrug before grabbing the hem and pulling it off in one smooth motion, revealing the black henley I have on underneath.
“Oh!”
Sadie’s gasp makes me blink.
“What?”
“You two would pair up just beautifully.” She gestures at my wrists and neck, eyes lighting up like she’s already framing the shot in her head. “Are your entire arms covered?”
The corner of my mouth pulls into a smirk as I push up my sleeves. Her grin takes over her entire face.
I love my tats. I really do. I know some people think they’re a bit much. Shit, my mom complains about them every time she sees a new one. Says I’m going to run out of skin before I’m thirty.
And then, five minutes later, she’s smothering me with croquetas and cooing that I’m her beautiful, bestestniño.
Shit, I miss her.
