“Yeah. You look good, Pippa.”
A pink flush spreads under her cheeks as she blinks at me. “Okay. Good.”
She holds the pose perfectly as I snap a few photos, crouching or shifting to the side to try different angles. The more photos I take, the more amused Pippa looks.
“Wow. You’re really a pro at this, huh?” There’s a natural-looking slight smile on her face in the next photo.
“Anything worth doing is worth doing well,” I say, shrugging.
“You probably practice with lighting and angles all the time to make your cock look bigger.”
There’s not as much venom in the joke as there usually would be, so I quirk a brow at her. “Wanna bet?”
“Ew, no!” She covers her eyes with her hands. “Keep it to yourself.”
She’s broken the pose, but I take another photo anyway. She’s kind of cute when she’s joking around—annoyingly cute, but cute.
“I think we got it.” I move behind the couch while Pippa pushes up to sit. Leaning over, I show her the results of the photo shoot.
“Wow.” She flicks through a few pictures. “These are actually decent.”
“Did you expect any less from me?”
She stops on a photo, one where her lips are parted slightly and her eyes look wide and bright. “I think that’s the one. I’ll put it at the top of the profile.”
Right. I kind of forgot that the whole reason we were taking these photos was to show them to other guys. Hundreds of guys—maybe thousands—would see Pippa lying out on the couch, her hair loose around her soft face.
The face I coaxed her to make.
The idea doesn’t exactly appeal to me, but I shake it off. If Pippa actually finds a guy to date, she’ll start spending time over at his place. That means she’ll be out of my hair way more.
“Texting it to you now,” I tell her. “Just put the new pics on your profile, and you’re ready.”
Pippa bites her lower lip. “I guess. I don’t know. The bikini, plus this photo…maybe it’s a little much.”
I roll my eyes. Everything is a “little much” for Pippa. She takes her work and everything in life so seriously that she never actually does anything fun. Even after I directed a whole goddamn photo shoot for her, she’s ready to throw all my hard work in the trash and stick with her boring, sexless little profile.
Except…
Pippa hates fun, but she loves winning. There’s one surefire way to make sure all this work didn’t go to waste.
“Wanna put some money on it?”
She crosses her arms. “What do you mean?”
“Put up my pics, then don’t change your profile for twenty-four hours. That’s it. We’ve got our parents’ Holiday Soiree thing tomorrow night. By the end of the party, you’re going to have over two-hundred guys on that app begging for the chance to go out with you.”
“And if I don’t?” She arches a brow, giving me a challenging look.
“I’ll give you $200. A dollar for each dude.”
She snorts. “Fat chance. I’m placing a bet where if I win, it proves I’m not attractive enough to get guys to swipe right. For that kind of dignity loss, I’d need way more money.”
“Two thousand bucks, then.”
“Still too low. Hey, how much did you win at your poker tournament last night?”
“$75,000.”
