Page 30 of Strut

“Shut up.” A red stain crept up Alec’s neck that just begged for my lips to kiss it. Then again, who was I kidding? I wanted to kiss anything and everything. I wasn’t fussy.

“You’ve developedstyle,Padawan.” I flicked some imagined dust off Alec’s shoulders. “Very nice.”

He laughed but there was a pleased flush to his cheeks. “Courtesy of my friend Mr H. Boss from fashion week. I would’ve preferred cash, but hey, what would I know? And you’re not looking too bad yourself.” He stood back and returned the blatant ogle. “I like you in that acid wash denim.” He circled me, lifting my favourite well-worn black leather jacket while I tried my best not to turn beetroot in the midst of the Sunday gawkers. “Mm-hmm. They give you a great arse.” He dropped the jacket and I shook my head.

“I feel so objectified.”

He stepped in close. “Well, in case I haven’t mentioned it—” Those blue eyes fixed on mine as he ran his free hand up my chest and down my sleeve, raising an army of goosebumps and almost melting my knees. “You wore this sexy-as-hell jacket the first time I ever met you and I’d never seen anything hotter in my life. You blew my fucking mind. So—” He patted my chest again. “Excellent choice, Mr Donovan. Now, shall we get this tour started?”

He shot me a wink, grabbed my hand, and pulled me onto the causeway leading to the island park. I followed, still shaking my head while trying to put my brain back into gear. Where had the quiet, almost-shy Alec disappeared to, and who was this confident ballsy guy? Either a year in New York had turned a quiet country boy into a sensual force of nature or the man had another side that I couldn’t wait to explore.

We took our time exploring the tiny island park, its whimsical supportive architecture rising like a bunch of flowers from the water. Then we made our way to Pier 64, talking back and forth about our childhoods and family life, the conversation easy, the silences too.

“I miss the farm,” Alec said softly after we’d stopped at the end of the pier and spent a few minutes quietly staring out over the Hudson toward New Jersey.

His hand was still wrapped in mine, like it had been from the start, and I squeezed gently. “I can imagine.”

“I might not want to run the place, but I love spending time there. It grounds me.” He closed his eyes. “If I stop and listen, I can almost hear the chorus of snorts and grunts and the soft bellowing of the cows as they file into the rotary milking shed in the morning. The heat of their bodies, the clouds of warm breath rising, and that sweet-sour tang of manure and spilled milk.”

I snorted.

He opened his eyes with a smile and nudged his elbow into my side. “Cowpats and warm milk not your thing?”

I leaned close and pressed my nose into his hair, drinking in his fresh scent and liking the way it made him shiver. “Nothing against manure.” I planted a brief kiss on his head. “But I like the smell of you a lot more.”

He laughed. “I don’t know about that. There’s something earthy and magical about that early-morning milking time. My best friend, Tui, lives on the farm next door. When we were kids, he would sometimes come over to help us rather than his own family. He’s a total extrovert and the rotary shed would pump with music and laughter, and even a bit of dancing in our gumboots and plastic aprons. My dad thought it was hilarious. The farm was hard work, but we had a lot of fun.”

“It’s a hell of a long way from modelling in New York City,” I commented drily, blinking into a brisk gust of cold wind that seemed to come out of nowhere.

He was quiet for a minute. “Yeah, it is.” He turned side-on to the river and held my gaze. “Thanks, for bringing me here, and for yesterday as well. I’ve been slack about getting some me time lately. The apartment is obviously a nightmare in that regard, but after the last couple of days, I feel... reset. Can’t say I pictured you as one for parks and slow walks, though. The weekend has been a bit of a surprise insight.”

I squeezed his hand and brought his knuckles to my lips, and he followed the move with wide eyes. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

He tipped his head to where I’d kissed him. “Clearly. That very nearly bordered on romantic, just so you know.”

“Fuck you. It was romantic as hell. I’m still recovering.”

He laughed and tugged me back onto the path. “Come on, it’s getting cool. And I want to know more about this nature-boy side of you.”

I linked his arm through mine. “Well, I admit I’d rather live in a city, but my photographer’s heart is at home any place it feels inspired. It could be up a mountain or hiking or in the middle of a desert or an ocean, as long as I have a camera with me. I do a little travel photography for magazines when I have the time. It’s a small part of my business but I enjoy it.”

“Really?” Alec stopped and pulled me around to face him, forcing a cyclist behind to make a sudden detour. “How did I not know that after all those months working with you?”

I shrugged. “I don’t talk about it much. When I’m doing a fashion shoot, people aren’t usually interested in the fact I shoot landscapes. This is a very insular industry in case you haven’t noticed.”

He stared at me, a small crease forming between his eyes, and I lifted a finger to smooth it. “Well,I’minterested,” he said, closing his eyes at my touch. “And I want to see these photos sometime.”

“I promise to show you. And speaking of inspiration, would it be okay for me to photograph you sometimes, when the mood takes me, and maybe when you don’t always know it? Just say no if it’s not. It’s only for us. I’ll show you everything. You fire something in me that sometimes only my camera can satisfy. But I’ll understand if you don’t want to. You’re in front of a camera enough and I totally get it—”

“Shhh.” He studied me for a second. “I trust you, Hunter. Take anything you want, but yeah, I’d like to see them when you’re ready. But…” He held up a finger. “I want something in return.”

I frowned. “What?”

“This.” He pulled me around and held up his camera.

I groaned, but when he elbowed me, I smiled for a selfie of the two of us, then smiled again as he took a few just of me.

He smirked. “They may not be as arty as yours, but I want a record too, so no whining when I demand you pose for some more. That’s the deal. Agreed?”

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