It was a gesture Nina had come to think of as defensive, as if he could use his arms to protect himself from whatever was making him anxious.
‘Neens, back me up,’ Markus demanded.
Maverick turned those blue eyes on her, silently begging.
‘It pays well,’ she offered cautiously, thinking it through. ‘If I did it with you, we could float all the rescue horse expenses for months.’
Markus gasped. ‘Wait, you’d do this?Why?You never agree to photoshoots!’
‘Because I can’t ask Maverick to do it if I’m not willing to do it, too,’ she replied, looking at Mav. ‘And I really want him to do it.’ There was more to it than that, but she couldn’t say aloud that she wanted something, some evidence, to commemorate her time at Hunt Ranch with him.
Mav looked only at her when he said, ‘My participation aside, I still think you should limit your interactions with them, try not to be seen.’
Nina settled for an easy truth. ‘Markus has had all the models sign NDAs already. And the photos won’t come out for months. By the time they do, I’ll be back in LA.’
Maverick didn’t comment on that. ‘I’ve seen some of the models who arrived today. They’re in their twenties. Andmodels. I’m a forty-year-old rancher.’
‘Models are models,’ Markus countered, clearly having thought through his argument. ‘They can sell it, but anyone looking at those pictures will see the staging. You … You look like you belong here. So, whilemymodels will sell Western Wear to people looking for top-of-the-line denim, people like your guests at Hunt Ranch,you’dsell it to people who know the lifestyle, people who do what you do. You’d be the face of the campaign.’
‘He’ll do it.’ This came from Sierra, who sat at the head of the table, sipping her red wine.
Maverick threw his hands up. ‘Seriously?’
The look of utter betrayal of his face made Nina smile – she couldn’t help it. But she stroked his thigh beneath the table, soothing him.
‘If he does it,’ Sierra continued without acknowledging Maverick, ‘we want “Maverick Hunt, Proprietor” on every one of his pictures.’
Maverick stared at her. ‘Sierra.’
‘Mav, I’m not an idiot. They’re paying us a fortune to be here. They’re renting out every spare room we have for two nights. And our name in a catalogue that sells high-end denim … That advertising would typically cost metens of thousands.’ She threw back the last of her wine, stood and repeated, ‘He’ll do it.’
Before she could walk away, Markus added, ‘You too, gorgeous.’
Sierra’s spine stiffened. She turned an incinerating glance on Markus. ‘Traitor.’
Maverick smirked. ‘Think of all the advertising dollars we’d save.’
Nina and Poppy looked back and forth between them like spectators at a tennis match.
‘Fine.’ Sierra tipped her chin up. ‘But I can only be available for two hours in the afternoon.’ When Maverick started to argue, she only talked over him. ‘You can get work done while they’re shooting. I can’t.’
‘I think two hours is great,’ Markus interceded.
As Sierra walked away, Markus turned those calculating eyes on Poppy.
‘No.’ It was, to everyone’s surprise, Nina who spoke up. ‘She’s too young, Markus.’
‘Some of the best start younger than her.’
‘And end up skipping childhood completely. No.’ She looked to Maverick for support.
‘I don’t like the idea of her face being plastered in magazines for thousands of strangers to see,’ he affirmed. ‘No.’
Nina was genuinely relieved. She had seen the life Poppy had. The kid was sweet and kind and loving. She was so carefree. And she was too young to understand what she’d be trading, too young to agree to something that momentous. Because Markus was right. Poppy, with her long, chocolate-coloured hair, naturally golden skin, and oversized brown eyes could have been one of those kids. Famous at five, floundering at fifteen, forgotten at forty.
Still, Markus knew when Nina meant no, and begrudgingly relented. ‘Fine.’
‘I also want a copy of the print you gave Nina for her birthday,’ Maverick added.
