Page 45 of Overtime
“I see,” she answers me, but her eyes are on the bag in front of her as she roots around for a battery.
“Am I interrupting?” I ask, trying not to sound as jealous as I feel.
“I don’t mind if you’re here as long as Westfield doesn’t mind. Might do Scarlett some good because he’s attempting to scandalize her.”
I glance over at him, and he’s down to his underwear and scrolling on his phone while he waits for her.
“Sounds like he’s attempting to scandalize you,” I say, watching as she plugs the new battery in.
Her eyes flick up to mine. “Are you jealous, Farm Boy?”
“Should I be?”
TWENTY-THREE
Joss
Colt looks surlyas hell standing in front of me, and I can’t help the small laugh that tumbles out which doesn’t help matters at all.
“Are you normally jealous of him?” I finally ask when the pout threatens to turn into a glare.
“No. I don’t fucking care what Westfield does.”
“Then why would you be now?”
“He’s your type, and the two of you are flirting a whole fucking lot.”
“Colton,” I tsk at him. “Using the f-word. What’s happening to you?”
“Spending too much time around you.” He turns and looks over at Tobias. “You give a fuck if I stay here while you parade around in your underwear?”
“Nope,” Tobias calls back from over his phone.
The way Tobias doesn’t even react to hearing Colt’s voice tells me I was played by the guy who was supposed to be helping me.
“He knew you were here the whole time, didn’t he?”
“He saw me walk in, which is why he turned up his fucking act by ten degrees.”
“Well, he’s been mouthy since Scarlett got here, so I didn’t notice.”
“She seems rattled by him. He being an ass to her?”
“He was a little rough with her earlier. I think he’s in a mood over something. He keeps looking at his phone and pacing around. I don’t know what they said to each other because she was asking his measurements to see if she had a uniform he could wear and who fucking knows.”
“He doesn’t seem moody with you.”
“I’m his type. That’s why we get each other.” I grin back at Colt, and he frowns again when I use his words against him.
“Now you’re trying to press my buttons.” His eyes darken as he looks at me, his lashes lowering and his jaw going tight.
“Is it working?” I grin at him for another moment before I turn back to the task at hand. Whatever has Westfield in a tizzy, I want to get him in and out of this shoot first before his mood sours more than it already has.
“You ready?”
He nods and sets his phone aside, and we work for several more minutes until I get a few good shots. I coach him through a few poses and adjust the light once or twice to get the right angle. He’s not Colt. Not by a long shot. But he’s got the body and the tattoos that would normally make my knees weak. And he looks like a fucking rockstar under these lights. I can’t wait to get my hands on the edits.
I hear the door open, and I look up to see Alex and Harper stepping in.
