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Lola moves closer, lowering her voice as she glances across the living room at the door to the spare bedroom or Faye’s bedroom since she’s staying here now.
“She’s just dropped out of college. She was studying business, basically, because her stepdad gave her an ultimatum. But she loves photography. I was wondering if there was anything she could do, some way she could maybe help? It doesn’t have to be big.”
I nod. “I’ll find something. Don’t worry.”
“Just like that?”
I give her shoulder a squeeze. “I can tell how much this means to you. I’m not sure what it will be. I haven’t even chosen my next project yet. Maybe she can help me sort through the photos from Europe, then work with me when I make my choice.”
“Really?”Lola says, almost bobbing up and down on the spot.
“You’re such a good person, Lola. A great friend. Yes, really.”
She throws her arms around me, and I hug her in return. It’s not that big of a deal, as far as I’m concerned, and well worth it to see Lola this happy.
And, who knows, perhaps Faye will show some talent, and I’ll be able to help her in her career.
Wins all around.
That’s what I think until the bedroom door opens and Faye steps out.
At least, I assume this is Faye, but it’s difficult to match this woman with the girl I remember from when I left for Europe.
She smiles shakily, the braces no longer on her teeth, taking a few steps into the room. Her hair is long and wavy. Insanely, I think about running my hands through it, grabbing a handful and using it to guide her lips gently to mine.
She’s wearing jeans that show the outline of her thick delicious thighs. And a shirt that shows the outline of her full mouth-watering breasts. Her eyes are captivating, wide, and somewhat innocent, as though this younger woman wants an older man – no, me, only me – to show her the way.
And not just in photography.
My balls feel like they flood suddenly.
Absurd thoughts clash in my mind, but there’s nothing funny about them. They feel deadly serious.
I need her.
Forever.
She belongs to me.
I push it all away, try to, at least.
“Hello, Mr. Fallon,” she says, with a soft smile, making me want to kiss her.
Wins all around.
No, this isn’t a win. I can’t work with this woman.
Where’s the shy eighteen-year-old sitting awkwardly in the back of the car?
Now all I can think about is grabbing her, kissing her, owning her in every steamy way imaginable.
“Hello,” I say, voice gruff.
