Page 76 of Wild Love
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Tuesday morning Blythegathers all the interns to work the first day of camp. She splits us up into different areas: check-in, lunchroom, floaters to walk the floor in case anyone has questions, and Reese even gets assigned to Coach Miller as a backup equipment runner. The camp is open to the public, so there are people at the ticket office and even working the concession stand.
“I’m starting to understand now why Blythe was running around frantic for the past two weeks,” I say to Quinn.
We’re placed on player check-in. They’re set to arrive by bus from the hotel any minute. Two long tables are pushed together, and we stand behind it, ready to cross off names and show them where to go for breakfast.
It’s quiet, and we’re standing around waiting, and then suddenly it’s chaos. A huddle of men stands in front of us, and Quinn and I check them off as fast as we can.
When Johnny shows up, my pulse jumps higher. He smiles and gets in the line next to mine. I feel his eyes on me as I check in Tyler Sharp and point him in the direction of the breakfast area with a goody bag.
“Johnny Maverick,” Quinn says as he steps up to the front of the line. “The party was boring after you two left Saturday. I never thought you’d be one to leave a party before it ended.”
He smiles, and I can feel how much he wants to look at me, but doesn’t. “Called it an early night.”
“Too bad. It was fun.” She holds out the goody bag.
“I had a good time too,” he says and finally slides his gaze to me. “Thanks.” He pauses. “Hey, Kota.”
I woke up next to him this morning, his big beefy arms trapping me in place and not letting me get up for the day until he did, and somehow he’s able to play it off like we haven’t seen each other all weekend.
I waggle my fingers. “Hey, Johnny. Good luck at camp this week.”
“Thanks. I had my Lucky Charms this morning.” His lips twitch with amusement. I’m pretty sure he’s referring to the multiple orgasms he gave me with his mouth, and heat pools in my stomach at the memory. He lifts the bag. “Later.”
25
Dakota
Wednesday morning is the same.Camp runs all day long, but after check-in, Quinn and I are able to go back to our desks.
I check my email and see that Lindsey, the Wildcats photographer who shot Maverick’s endorsement, has sent me proofs. I squeal as I open them. Hundreds of photo thumbnails fill the screen, and even before I click on one, I know they’re good.
I start at the beginning, laughing when I see the deer in headlights expression on Johnny’s face for the first twenty or so photos. Even stiff and unsmiling, he’s handsome. As the photos progress, I watch him relax and grow more comfortable.
Lindsey captured so many good ones, but the scenes where he’s in the shower are by far my favorite. His dark hair slicked back, smirk in place, holding the Maverick Hailstone body wash in one hand, the other sudsing himself up. I find the photo where his dark eyes cut through the camera, and I know it’s the one where he’s making eye contact with me. My whole body tingles. This should have been a freaking commercial. I’m buying it. All of it.
After I go through it twice on my own, I call Quinn over.
“Damn. The camera loves him.”
“I know. They’re so good. Even better than I hoped.”
“Nice job,” she says.
I’m a little thrown every time she gives me a compliment. “Thanks. Oh, hey, can you send me the behind-the-scenes footage you and Reese captured?”
Technically, all the endorsement contract asked for are photographs with the products and ad copy concepts. Still, I want to put together an entire social media campaign for them with the footage, if any of it’s usable.
They signed off on my photo-shoot concept, but they instructed me to focus on the products. Whatever that means.
“Yes. I went through all the photos and put my favorites in a folder. I’ll send everything, though, in case you have a different eye. Design isn’t really my thing.”
“Really?” I give her outfit a once-over. She looks like she’s wearing something straight out of a magazine.
“This was put together by the sales lady,” she admits. She lifts a foot to show off her strappy sandals. “Right down to the shoes.”
“Cute,” I say.
