“You should blog about it. You’d have an audience.”
I laugh and lean up to kiss him. “One blogger in this little duet of ours is enough. Besides, I’m assuming I’d need to take photos, which I can’t, never mind needing to be somewhat photogenic.”
“Nonsense.” He flips to an image of me in grubby-looking overalls, paint on my face and in my hair, sporting a huge, goofy grin. “Fucking adorable and sexy as hell, this girl.” I roll my eyes. “Seriously, sweetheart. Start here. Share your process. The successes and failures and what you’re learning.”
“No one wants to see me do this when they can watch Bob Villa or some other professional. I’d be like the poor man’s version.”
“You’re the do-it-yourself version. You showed me yourself how everyone is obsessed with those DIY boards. Make a Tumblr and market it on Pinterest.” He pulls me to him and brushes his nose against my neck. “And who told you that you can’t take photos? People went crazy over that pic you took of me last week.”
Goosebumps break out on my arms from his hot breath on my skin, and I swallow. “What can I say? My model was very cooperative.” Seriously, this man never takes a bad picture.
“I was putty in your hands.”
“You were harder than putty,” I joke, remembering the way he fisted his cock for me when we were tumbling around in bed.
“Over a half million likes.”
“You’re a cock star,” I whisper in his ear. He laughs and presses that very bulge against me.
For the next few moments, after our laughter subsides, he just holds me to him, threading his fingers through my hair as the breeze whisks through the trees. This, us, doesn’t feel like it’s about sex. It feels more like love. The emotion wells up so strong in me, I burrow deeper against his chest.
“Sometimes you feel like a dream. Like you’re too good to be true,” I mumble against him.
He pulls back and drifts his hand across my jaw to tilt my face to his before his lips dip to mine. “I know the feeling.”
I smile like a fool. He does this to me. Makes me feel uninhibited.
“Do you woo all your women this way? With trips to cherry farms and wine and sweet words?”
He laughs and shakes his head, looking a little embarrassed. “No, babe. You’re the first.” Reaching back, he tugs on a strand of my hair that’s fallen out of my ponytail. “I like your hair when it’s up.”
“Yeah?”
“And when it’s down… across my pillow.” A wolfish grin tilts his lips. “Or in my lap.”
I laugh and push him, but he grabs me and tickles me until I snort. And then we’re tumbling into the grass as the dappled sunlight filters through, making me wish I could bottle up today and keep it somewhere safe forever.
Josh has his arm around me as we stroll through the small town’s Main Street shops. Chauncey prances along, inspecting everything in his path.
We’re full from his delicious picnic and maybe a little high from all of the fresh air and sunshine and wine. Clouds build on the horizon, but they never get close enough to do any damage. I half wonder if it’s only Portland that’s deluged in non-stop cloud cover and that if I only drove to the boonies more, I’d be able to indulge in sunny afternoons.
The warmth in my belly grows as I consider how Josh has gone out of his way to make sure we went somewhere we wouldn’t see people we know. Somewhere that we could be together in public.
Keeping our relationship quiet is starting to wear on me. I want the world to know he’s mine and that we’re together. To keep things the way they are now as we stroll through this quiet street. As much as I’ve sacrificed for my career, I’m starting to think my relationship with Josh is more important.
Once I negotiated his Caligula contract, he hasn’t needed me for much anyway, and if he did, I’m confident I could represent him better than any of the old farts at my firm.
Unless Angela got his case.
A knot twists in my stomach as I consider that possibility.
Would she kick ass for Josh if she repped him? Yes, undoubtedly. Everyone knows she’s a piranha for her clients. Could I handle her flirting with him twenty-four seven? Her gloating about it? No, I’m sure it would make me insane, and I’d have to hide the cutlery.
Even more important, though, would she maintain the kind of confidentiality for him that I do? Probably not. Angela loves good gossip more than her designer outfits. Sure, she’d keep it to the office, blabbing with other attorneys, but it only takes one person who isn’t conscientious to leak that info. We have administrative personnel, accountants, paralegals, human resource managers, consultants, and tech guys—a whole host of individuals at WGA who aren’t attorneys and could potentially divulge Josh’s secret. That’s not counting other clients or opposing counsel who could overhear a reckless conversation in the hall.
That right there makes the dread worse as I consider talking to Malcolm about my relationship with Josh. Because I have no idea who my boss will reassign the case to.
A few minutes later, we stop in front of a bakery so I can get a pie for my dad. Monday is the Fourth of July, and he wants me to come over for his yearly barbecue. I know Josh’s family is doing something too, but we haven’t really discussed it.
That’s another rub. Even if we were officially together, it’s not like I can waltz into the Cartwrights’ for the Fourth. I’m guessing his ex and her family will be there, and even though I can’t stand the idea of her possibly throwing herself at Josh again, I trust him, and I don’t want to cause any waves. Besides, the thought of seeing his mom again and knowing she’ll be judging me against Tiffany, the woman who was basically born and bred for Josh, makes me feel like I’m going to break out in hives. Is that how my dad felt around my mother’s family?
Motioning toward the window full of pastries, I ask, “Do you want a pie to take to your parents’ house next week? I’m gonna grab one for my dad.”
Josh shakes his head. “No, but thanks. I’m sure my parents will have it catered.”
I nod and duck into the shop. Everything smells divine. I could probably eat a whole pie by myself if left unattended.
As I’m waiting for my pastry to be boxed, two younger women walk in behind me. When the glass door closes behind them, one gushes to the other, “Whew! I need to fan myself. Where did that dish of hotness come from?”
I peek over my shoulder to check them out again, and they’re busy ogling Josh, who’s kneeling down on the sidewalk petting Chauncey.
“I don’t know, but let’s talk to him on our way out. Do you think he’s single?”
“Who cares?” the little tart asks. “I would totally do him.”
My whole body stiffens as I listen to them go on and on. And on.
When the woman behind the counter hands me my order, she gives me an apologetic smile because she must have seen Josh and me stroll up together, and my face burns hotter.
By the time I make it back onto the sidewalk, my stomach is churning. Yes, I get that Josh is gorgeous, but that doesn’t mean I want women all over him.