Page 24 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
“I get what you’re saying. You want to be in and out.” I winked.Where did that come from? Dare I say, I’m flirting?
Smiling brightly, he nodded. “You get me, Rosie. That’s why I’m glad you’re here, and also because I wanted to talk to you some more. I felt like last time we worked together, we barely had a chance to talk.”
Mr. Professional Hot Pants wanted to talk to me? That was a new shift in my life.
“What photo shoot was that again?” I asked, trying to not show how out of my element I was. It was rare I talked to men, let alone casually flirt.
“The exposé on litter box best practices,” he said with a smile.
I shook my head and grasped my forehead with my hand. “God, I need a new job.”
He laughed again, and I really liked his laugh. “But then you wouldn’t be able to meet up with me.”
“True. Do you like doing these articles?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “These little photo shoots are all right, but I stay because most of the time, I get to go to some pretty cool places, and if I have to take pictures of cats in litter boxes on occasion, it’s worth it.”
“Where do you get to go?”
“Lance, can we get some test shots?” one of the production assistants asked.
“Be right over,” Lance called over his shoulder before returning his gaze to me. “I want to talk some more. Go out with me Saturday?”
Was he serious right now?Go out with him?Jenny’s boobs would flip inside out if I told her I had a date with Lance. He seemed way out of my league but he was hot, sweet, and talented, so I would be stupid to say no, especially with my new goal in life.
“That sounds like fun,” I replied.
A big smile crossed his face, as if he was relieved to know thatIwould go out with him.
“Don’t leave this set without giving me your phone number, okay?”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.” I smiled as he pinched my chin with his index finger and thumb and then took off toward the set with his camera in his hand.
Sighing, I watched his jean-clad butt sway away. He really was beyond good-looking. Needing to tell someone, I pulled out my phone and texted Delaney. I would be telling Jenny my news in person, just so I could relish in the look on her face.
Rosie:Delaney!! I have a date on Saturday with this really hot photographer.
Her text back was almost instantaneous.
Delaney:Rosie, I love you, but what kind of hot photographer do you meet at a photo shoot for a cat that likes to lick his own crotch while balancing on a ball?
That was Baboo’s number-one trick. He was Baboo, the ball-licking balancer.Or is he a balancing ball-licker?Either way, entertainment for the masses had really gone downhill.
Needing to prove that not only frumpy people—excluding Jenny and me, of course—worked for cat magazines, I pulled up my camera app on my phone and acted like I was texting but secretly took a picture of Lance as proof that I wasn’t crazy.
Like a dumbass, I forgot to turn off my camera light though, so when it flashed brightly at Lance and the assistant, I naturally fumbled my phone out of embarrassment and dropped it.
Right into a litter box.
“You okay over there?” he asked with a smile that said he knew exactly what I was doing.
“Yup,” I called out while grabbing my phone and dusting it off.Don’t look at them for the love of God, turn around.
Back toward Hot Lance, I checked out the picture I attempted to secretly take and came up quite disappointed. Instead of Mr. Tight Buns, I ended up with a grotesque picture of my thumb. Marvelous.
“If you wanted a pic, you could have just asked,” Lance said next to my ear, making me jump.
“Christ! I, umm, I wasn’t taking a picture of you.” Did you smell that? It was my pants on fire . . .
