Page 3 of Picture Perfect
“Well, it’s officially just finished,” I say. “You’re with me now.”
She smiles and it’s like the whole world switches from black and white to color. My heart starts beating like the wings of a hummingbird.
It’s not going to be easy working with Hazel under me. Not when all I can think about is climbing on top of her and giving her a piece of my thick, hard meat.
“Come on.” I look at my watch. I’m already late for the photoshoot. But suddenly that doesn’t seem so important anymore. “I wanted to give you a quick induction before we left, but you’re just going to have to pick things up as we go.”
“That’s okay.” We run across the street and jump in my truck. There are old coffee cups and food wrappers everywhere. I can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed. Cupid should have told me how beautiful Hazel is. I would have tidied up. “I can handle anything you throw my way. I promise. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. I really am grateful for you giving me a chance. You don’t know how much this job means to me. And now my car’s broken down and I’m going to have to pay for a mechanic and we’re going to be late on my first day and it’s all my fault.”
“Hey, it’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. Shit happens.”
“I know,” she says. “I guess I’m just trying to say that I know this isn’t the best first impression and I have a lot of making up to do. So, whatever you need, I’ve got you covered.”
I put the key in the ignition and bite my lip. A bad first impression? Whatever I need? Is she crazy?
She’s so close. All I want to do is lean over and kiss those sweet, full lips.
Just thinking about it has my briefs all wet with precum.
She couldn't have made a better first impression if she tried.
“Baby girl,” I press down on the gas and we pull out into traffic, “you don’t know what you’re saying.”
3
Hazel
“Oh my god! Are you sure?”I cover my phone with my hand and duck into a quiet corner. “This can’t be happening!”
The lady from the modeling agency lets out a deep sigh. She’s not being very sympathetic. Doesn't she realize she's ruining my life right now? “I’m sorry, Hazel. It’s just one of those things.”
“And you can’t find me a replacement?”
“A replacement?” she laughs. “At this time of year? At this short notice? I mean… I can probably findsomeone. But they won’t be the same standard as the model you had booked.”
I squeeze my temples. This is the worst news possible. The whole studio is full of half-naked men with harps. Chase is shooting a special Valentine’s day advert for one of his biggest clients. Now I find out the model he had booked went out and got drunk and got the words “dirty slut” tattooed across her forehead and then crashed someone else's Ferrari into the side of a church. Apparently, it was all a publicity stunt. She thought it would help her rap career. Nobody thought to tell her she’s a skinny white Russian woman who can barely speak English, let alone rap. Now she’s in hospital with a broken arm and a broken nose and the tattoo on her face pretty much guarantees the end of her modelling career. Not to mention the bad press she’s getting or the police waiting politely outside her hospital door.
“Hazel? You still there?”
Chase is on the other side of the room. He’s arranging the lighting. Talking to the make-up artists. Pretty soon I’m going to have to go over there and give him the bad news. It's the last thing I want to do.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m here.”
“So, you want me to find someone else?”
I bite my lip. What other choice do I have? “Can you send over some headshots or something? I’m going to have to run this past Chase.”
I hang up the phone and walk over to my amazing new boss.
I’ve only been working for him for a few days, and already I love my new job. There’s so much to do. So much to learn. And the whole time I get to watch the most amazing man I’ve ever met completely at home in his element.
“Ah, Hazel!” There’s a huge smile on his face that makes my legs go weak and my heart beat faster. “What do you think? Is it too much?”
I look at the set. There are fake clouds and silk rainbows and there’s a couple of very nice looking poodles who are probably going to piss all over the floor before the day is over.
“It’s perfect,” I say, trying to avoid eye contact.
“Hazel?” He puts his hands on his hips and steps right in front of me. There’s nowhere for me to escape. I have to look up into his deep blue eyes. I don’t want to be the person to give him bad news. “What’s wrong?”
