Page 51 of When It's Us
”So what other weird shit am I gonna find out about you on this trip?” he says, and I turn my head to look at him. He’s wearing that teasing smirk again. “Besides the serial killer marshmallow thing?”
I tilt my head, thinking. “I can’t go one day without taking a photo of something.”
He narrows his eyes a bit. “Okay, that’s not weird, though.”
“It isn’t?” I’d expected him to laugh at me. Or at the very least make a joke. Especially with all his comments about me constantly checking my phone.
He shakes his head. “People have a camera on them all the time with their phones. And besides, isn’t your job something to do with social media?”
I’m surprised he knows that. Wren must have told him. Or maybe Hudson and Finn. I made both of their websites; I run social media for Finnley’s bed and breakfast and Hudson’s bar.
“Yeah,” I say, pulling the blanket closed further around my shoulders. “Mostly managing social media accounts, branding, websites. Stuff like that.”
He nods. “You like it?”
“I do,” I say. “I mean, there are some parts that aren’t as fun, but for the most part, yeah.”
“Which parts are less fun?” he asks, and I’m surprised by the genuine interest in his eyes when he meets my gaze again.
“The admin stuff isn’t the greatest, but I’m pretty organized so even that isn’t so bad. It’s a switch from having an assistant for years who did a lot of that for me. An entire accounting department,” I explain with a light shrug.
“Yeah, I can see that,” he says, holding out the bag of marshmallows to me. I shake my head, and he rolls the top of the bag down before setting them aside.
“I used to be really into photography in college. After I graduated and Peter and I got married, I had less and less time for it. Even more so after the boys were born.” I look out over the water. “I still love it, it’s just one of those things, I guess.”
“Sure,” he says, nodding, “but if you love it, you should make time for it. Remember those hobbies we talked about?”
I smile lightly, glancing over at him and then back to the fire. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Carrying around a digital camera might seem a little strange, though, considering phones can do just about anything these days.”
I scoff playfully. “Digital?Please.Everyone knows 35mm is superior.”
“You still use a film camera?” he asks, surprised and maybe even a little impressed.
I shrug, my stomach fluttering a little at having a hobby that Hutch Hayes thinks is cool.
“I do have a DSLR, but I love shooting with my old Nikon. I’ve had it since I was sixteen.” I laugh lightly. “My mom had been so pissed when I’d come home with it.”
“Why?”
“I sold the diamond necklace my parents got me for my birthday to get the money.”
Hutch smirks again, lets out a low whistle, and says, “I knew there was a little rebel in you when I saw that tattoo.”
I blush and duck my head, remembering his words strained with lust and desire when he’d bent me over that workbench all those months ago.
Butterfly tramp stamp, huh? Can’t say I’m surprised.
I can still remember how his fingers had dug into the skin of my ass, how he’d yanked on my thong, making me whimper in pleasure. How he’d buried his face between my ass cheeks like a dying man looking for water.
I let my eyes roam over the skin of his forearms, where his sleeves are pushed up, then down over his strong hands. Goosebumps prickle my skin, and I find myself swallowing so I don’t drool.
Clearing my throat and hoping to get my mind out of the gutter, I say, “I had to do something to make her see I didn’t care about all the ridiculous shit she forced me to participate in.”
He turns to look at me. “Did it work?”
I shake my head with a light laugh. “No. But applying to college across the country did. God, she’d been furious.”
