“I’m a photographer. I took some pictures last week and wanted to show them to Wade.”
Coy smirks. “Sounds kinky.”
Wade narrows his eyes. “I know you just told me that you have somewhere to be.”
“Yeah. Bellamy sent me out to get some formula.” Coy makes a face of helplessness. “The baby lost a little too much weight, and the doctor wants to supplement her breast milk to try to counter that.”
“Does she have a lactation consultant?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I think. I will ask her, though. Why? Do you have kids? Do you know anything about this because I’m all ears.”
I laugh. “No. I just hear a lot of things with new moms, and I know lactation consultants are very much a thing.”
“I’ll relay that information.” He grins cheekily. “And if she already knows it, I look like a genius, caring father, and husband. So thanks.”
I laugh as he gets to his feet.
“See ya at Mom’s this weekend, right?” Coy asks Wade.
Wade nods. Then, slowly, he glances at me before switching his attention back to his brother.
“Hey, Coy,” Wade says, shifting in his seat. “Dara takes baby pictures.”
Coy looks at me. “Seriously?”
There’s not enough oxygen in the room with both Mason brothers looking at me at the same time.
Forget firefighter calendars. I wonder if their family would be willing to pose?
“I do,” I say carefully. “Families. Babies. Weddings. Apparently, retirement parties.” I shrug. “I don’t do dogs, though. I have limits.”
Coy laughs. “Well …”
He glances at Wade and seems to see what he needs to see. What that is? I have no clue.
“How would you feel about taking some shots of Kel? Bells has been stressing because the pictures she had taken in the hospital didn’t turn out very good, and she thinks the baby will grow up and hate her because there are only ten million phone pictures of him in the first month of life.”
I laugh.
“You can send me home with lactation consultants and a baby photographer session already booked.” Coy wiggles his eyebrows. “You’ll definitely help me get laid … like six fucking weeks from now.”
I look at Wade. He grins at me, and I take that as approval.
“I’d be honored,” I say.
“You’re the best. I’ll have her get with you and make sure we can all hook up at the same time. I’ll get your number from Wade.”
Coy pats me on the top of my head like you would a younger sibling. It makes me smile. Wide.
“I owe you,” Coy says.
“You’re paying her,” Wade warns.
Coy turns at the door. “Yes. I know. I’m not an idiot.”
“That’s debatable,” Wade mumbles.
Coy looks at me. “Good luck with him. He’s extra grouchy today.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I say.
With a cheeky grin, Coy leaves and shuts the door behind him.
The energy in the room shifts as I twist in my seat to face Wade. He’s watching me in much the same position he’s been in since I arrived.
“Hi,” I say.
He drops his hand from his face. “Hi.”
We feel each other out, our lips forming slow smiles that are anything but professional.
“I didn’t think you were ever going to text me,” I say.
“I texted you Sunday night.”
“Yes. And today is Wednesday.”
“Were you not working?” he asks.
I sigh. “Yes.”
I wait for him to continue, to make his point. It doesn’t come.
“You know that it’s possible to work and text at the same time, right?” I ask. “Or is that why you texted me at five thirty today?”
He fights a grin. “You said you have something to discuss with me?”
“More like … show you.” Opening my bag, I pull out a folder and hand it to him. “Look at these.”
He takes the folder, sets it on his desktop, and opens it.
I hold my breath as he picks up the first picture of himself looking down the street in front of Judy’s. It’s my favorite. It’s not my favorite just because his jawline is showcased and his lips are parted in the way that I now know they are just before he orgasms. I love the softness around his eyes and the curiosity in his gaze. The way he looks as if he’s about to say something that will make me laugh.
Wade sorts through the images one by one. He studies each photo with the same attention, the same eye for design that puts me on edge.
He’s creative too. What if he hates my art?
“It was a risk to show you these,” I say quietly. “But I wanted you to see them. I think they turned out great.”
He holds the last image—the one where I just finished posing ridiculously and am laughing as I walk toward the camera. My hair is tousled from the wind. A flush paints my cheeks from being in front of the camera for once. I look … happy.
“This one.” He turns the photograph around. “This is my favorite.”
I blush. “Maybe you picked the wrong business because your camera skills are amazing.”
He chuckles and sets the picture down. Then he tidies up the stack and closes the folder.
“You really do have quite an eye,” he says. “I’m very impressed.”
“I had an excellent subject.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I do.” I smile at him. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
For a moment, he seems confused. Then he sits up so quickly that I jump.
He marches over to his drafting table and motions for me to join him. So, I do.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“This is a house I designed for a man in Portland a couple of years ago. It’s not exactly what you’re after, I don’t think, but it’s similar.” He drags a hand down what I think is the front of the home. “What I showed you the other night was just a sketch, but this is a bigger layout. I thought you might get a better idea of what the flow would look like if we continued with the concept we discussed.”
This is bullshit. I can tell. He’s talking too fast.
But am I about to complain? Hardly.
I’ve fantasized about being in Wade’s presence again. I’ve wished I could touch his body and watch his eyes darken. I’ve imagined him buried deep inside me a thousand times over. No complaints here.
“I love the open concept from the kitchen to the family area,” I say. “It reminds me of your house, actually. But without the fireplace.”
Wade pivots, squaring his shoulders to mine. “Did you like my fireplace?”
There’s an edge to his voice that’s an innuendo all its own.
I grin. “I will always remember the heat of that fireplace very, very well.”
He hums.
“I’m not averse to having one of my own,” I say, quirking a brow. “Maybe I can create lots of memories in front of my own fireplace someday.”
He cuts the distance between us in half. Towering over me, he looks down with hooded eyes.
“Do you remember what I said to you Saturday night?” he asks.
I know what he’s getting at, and so does my vagina, but I’m not giving in that easily.
“Not to take drinks from anyone but you?” I ask coyly.
“Don’t fuck with me, Dara.”
“But I like it when I fuck with you, Wade.”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “I told you, explicitly, that if you chose to let me inside you, things would change.”
“Yes.”