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Legolas walks toward us. “Do you not want to touch him?”
I open my mouth, unsure of what to say.
“What Lily means is that she should project an image of power, not of one a traditional feminine role,” Max says.
And now I love the man even more. “Exactly, thank you, Max.”
Legolas considers this while biting his bottom lip. Finally, he says, “Then let’s have Lily standing, with her arms folded, and Max leaning against the rocks.”
We do this for a while, shifting into slightly different poses and expressions. As the sun climbs higher into the sky, I begin to overheat. Max isn’t perspiring at all because he’s used to the extreme temperatures of the cockpit of a race car.
Legolas points toward the other six rock columns. “One last pose. I want the two of you walking and laughing.”
I fight the urge to curl my lip. Neither of us want to laugh right now.
Max and I glance at each other, then start walking side by side.
“Laugh,” Legolas yells. “Look happy!”
“Do you remember the Acro-Cats, that roadside circus in Poland?” Max says.
This makes me laugh, for real. During the time we dated, after we’d finished a race in Austria we’d ended up traveling to Poland because we felt adventurous, and ran smack into a traveling big top that featured only house cats.
“I will never forget the Acro-Cats as long as I live,” I say through giggles.
“Me neither. It was pure chaos. My favorite was the one who played the trumpet.” Max makes a littlebrr-brrsound, like an off-key trumpet, and I am now chortling.
“I still have the photo we bought that night. Of us together, with the tabby cat.”
“The one in the hat?” Max wipes the corner of his eye. He’s either laughing so hard he’s crying or is crying because the wind is kicking up the dust.
“That is perfect! You two are naturals. So gorgeous together,” Legolas calls. “We’re done.”
Max and I walk silently back to the RV, our boots crunching the desert gravel underneath. We go inside and I’m about to turn to where my blouse is hanging when Max reaches for my arm.
“Can I have a word with you in private?”
“Sure.” We walk into my dressing room and I shut the door.
“About last night,” he begins. “I was . . .”
It’s as if he’s searching for a thought while he chews on his cheek. If I didn’t know him, I’d assume it was because he was searching for the correct English word, but I know he’s fluent in both languages.
“Uncomfortable. I was uncomfortable with seeing you with that man.”
“Are you jealous?”
He stares at me with those ice blue eyes. “There’s no sense in lying about it. Yes, I’m jealous. We had the most incredible night together in bed, and then hours later you go on a date with a beer salesman.”
I’m a bit taken aback at how honest he is. The corner of my mouth quirks up. “He’s a team sponsor, not a sales guy.”
“Whatever.” He curls his lip. “Wouldn’t you be jealous under these circumstances?”
“Probably, yes. But it wasn’t a date.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “No? The two of you looked pretty cozy.”
I lean toward him. “Tanya set it up so the paparazzi would take photos. She wanted to deflect attention away from us,” I hiss. “That’s why we had to leave the hotel to have a drink somewhere else. We paraded ourselves down the street for the cameras.”
