“I’m serious. Original paint on the ceiling as well.”
Emma's eyes danced as she ran her fingers over the intricate carvings and stonework adorning the mansion's exterior. "Lindsey’s head is going to explode, and Vaughn . . .” She stopped and pulled out her phone. “Do you care if I text them?” Tyler shook his head. She started to type, then stopped, pulling her lower lip between her teeth.
“Maybe I shouldn’t.” She looked up, and Tyler’s heart stuttered. “They’ll fall in love with it and if Troy doesn’t like our portfolios—”
“He’s going to love them.”
Emma gave him a skeptical look. “You don’t even know what my photos look like.”
Tyler walked past her, his pulse quickening. “Yes I do, and I know he’s going to love them.”
Emma didn’t follow him. “You’ve seen my work?” He nodded, pretending to peer through the glass, even though the interior was pitch black. “How?”
“It’s called the internet.”
Emma’s voice softened. “You looked up my website?”
I looked up a hell of a lot more than that.“Yep. Had to make sure I wasn’t fake dating a terrible photographer. I have standards.”
Emma grinned as she watched him, backlit by the streetlamp. “Well, in that case, maybe I’ll send them that message.”
Tyler kept walking, turning to catch his breath without her noticing. When he heard her footsteps rounding the corner, he pressed back against the wall and waited. This was a terrible idea, but he couldn’t stop himself from doing it. It was too good.
Emma stepped past the wall, and Tyler launched himself forward, growling low in his throat. A blood-curdling scream filled the air as the back of Emma’s hand slammed upward into his chin.
Tyler groaned and stumbled back as Emma panted in front of him.
“Younutsack!” she hissed, crouching over her knees.
Tyler righted himself and stared at her. “Nutsack?”
Emma refused to look up, holding onto the rim of the toque with both hands, pulling it down over her eyes.
Tyler erupted with laughter. Full guffaws that tore at his sore ribs, but he couldn’t stop. He laughed until tears streamed down his face and he clutched at his midsection, leaning against the brick to keep from collapsing.
Emma stood, her arms folded in front of her chest. “You finished?”
“I don’t know,” he gasped. “Can you please say that again?”
Emma’s lips twitched. “You don’t deserve to hear that again.”
“Who says ‘nutsack’?”
Emma's sour expression cracked. “Someone with three brothers who used to hide in the basement for hours and make her pee herself when she braved the dark to get a jar of peaches from the storage room.”
Tyler straightened, holding his cheeks and feigning sobriety. “That sounds . . . painful.”
“Thank you for recognizing that. I’m sorry I tried to throat-punch you.”
“You missed.”
“Maybe your throat is in the wrong place.”
Tyler’s feet seemed to sink into the ground as his eyes ran over her face, flushed and alive in the moonlight. He wanted to kiss her. Two steps was all he needed. His hands itched to wrap around her hip, to feel the arch of her back. It had been just a few seconds at the arena, but that moment flickered to the forefront of his thoughts more often than he liked to admit.
Emma’s phone buzzed, and she pulled it from her pocket. She smiled. “They’re sending their portfolios to Troy now. I sent them his info.”
“Did you already send yours?”
