Page 34 of One Shot

Tyler is such a great friend. It makes me laugh when people say he’s a player; I’ve never seen that side of him.

I take photos of a few more players individually, rotating between the ice, locker room, and gym. I’ve just finished up with Connor Rizzo, who blushed the entire time. I’m looking forward to getting to know him better since he’s living with Liam and Tyler.

“The Sexy Seven: Clarke, Lawson, Rizzo, Welsh, Barret, Hall, and Donato, I’ll take group photos of you. Then every one of you seven is free to go except Welsh and Donato. Blaine Mitchell, you are up after the group shots and before Welsh and the Captain. You can head out after you’re done.”

The Sexy Seven shots are easily the highlight of my day. Libby, Bren, and I are all drooling with the sex appeal coming from these men. These calendars are going to sell like hotcakes.

“I guess you didn’t name them the Sexy Seven for nothing,” I mutter to Bren.

“Is the ice melting under them? I swear it is. My goodness. Look at that boyfriend of mine,” Bren says back.

“I’d rather not,” I tease.

My attention drifts to the captain, even after his stupid jealousy earlier. He’s laughing and carefree with his best friends and teammates, flashing smolder after smolder. I never knew someone could have more than one smolder, but he will make any girl's panties wet if I put any of the photos I just took in the calendar. He certainly has me swooning. I can’t stay annoyed with him for long.

“Mitchell, let’s go. Meet us in the gym.”

Libby left for a last-minute study session, so Bren and I will have tofinish the shoot.

“Remind me, why do we have to take Blaine Mitchell as a solo shot again?” I ask Bren.

“Because he has a pretty face, girls love the troublemaker, and he’s in one of our top lines . . . You know he’s actually good on the ice,” Bren explains, “Plus his mom donated a lot of money to the team probably to try to make up for her asshole son’s behavior.”

I roll my eyes. This explains his personality even more now. Mommy leans in whenever needed.

“Right,” I mumble under my breath. “Let’s get this over with.”

I walk into the gym. Mitchell and his lackey McAllister are already in there. Not sure why McAllister joined us since he isn’t getting his photo taken, but as long as they don’t stir anything up, I don’t mind.

“Mitchell, bench press, please. Put weights on the barbell. I’d suggest a little lighter than you usually go since we will be holding it for some shots. Don’t worry, you won’t be able to see the actual number of plates in the photos anyway,” I direct him.

“Lighter? Yeah, right. I’ll do my usual weight,” Mitchell pretends to mutter but clearly makes it loud enough for anyone to hear.

I spot Lucas and Liam in the corner of the gym now. It seems odd that they would follow us into the gym instead of waiting by the rink.

“McAllister, since you’re here, push those boxes all the way up to the bench. One on each side. Thanks.”

I don’t feel the need to say please. McAllister gives me the creeps.

“Alright, Mitchell, I’m going to stand over you with my feet on the boxes. I need stable footing otherwise the photo will not look good. Got it?”

He nods. Good, no jokes about me being over him.

“I am going to have you hold each rep for about ten seconds so I can get multiple shots in. I’ll probably have you do ten reps max.”

With a heavy sigh, I climb up on the boxes and stand over him. I tap him a little with my right foot to tell him to scoot over on the bench. He scoots over reluctantly and winks at me. Seriously? I just shake my head, wanting to get this over with.

“Okay, ready? Just start doing reps.”

He holds the barbell over his chest seemingly easy for longer than necessary before continuously doing reps. I take a look at the pictures I snapped. Not bad. If I didn’t know he was a grade-A asshole, I might find him attractive from these photos, but I want more of his abs included. I climb off the boxes and look through the pictures again.

Still inspecting them, I ask, “Can you scoot the boxes back a little bit please, Libby? And add more oil to Mitchell’s abs? I want to get a slightly different angle.”

No way in hell did I want to touch Mitchell. I’m still looking at the camera and realize no one’s doing anything. Shoot. I forgot Libby already left. Great.

“Here,” Bren says, shifting the box back and handing me the oil. I see a smirk start across Mitchell’s face. Out of nowhere, a hand smacks my ass.

“You’re going to be on top of me anyways, might as well lube me up, baby.”

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