“What happened with this? With photography? Your mom said…” I trailed off because his mom hadn’t said much, but I hoped he would fill in the blanks.
“This was the first business my dad invested in for me. But unlike my sister and her passion project, mine crashed and burned along with his investment. Which is why I’m now working athischoice.” He nodded toward the door. “Speaking of, he was impressed with yours. That’s a good sign. He knows what works for a business and what doesn’t.”
“Does he?” I asked.
“He’s very successful.”
I nodded; I couldn’t argue that point. But that didn’t mean he knew everything about everything. I hated that Elijah was giving up on a dream because he thought he had failed at it. Because his dad had told him that his time was up on trying to make it work. That Elijah figured his dad must know best and listened. And now he felt indebted to him for two separate investments. He probably felt like he was at the bottom of a deep hole.
“I should hire you to bring some character to our restaurant,” I said.
“It’s lacking character?”
“In a big way.” Two million people big. Or at least that’s how many had seen the viral review. And so many of them had left mean comments.
“You couldn’t afford me,” he said with a smile.
“I probably couldn’t.”
He stepped to my side, inspecting the photos more closely. “It’s been a while since I’ve picked up a camera.” He smelled really good. Like cedar and soap.
My body shifted toward his, my shoulder pressing into his arm. “It’s probably like riding a bike.”
“In what way?” he asked, turning a serious expression on me.
“You don’t know that saying?”
“What saying?”
“You know, ‘it’s like riding a bike.’ Meaning, once you’ve learned how to ride a bike, your body doesn’t forget how to do it. So no matter how much time has passed, you pick it right back up again. Like…”Sex.My mind provided that word without any warning, and my cheeks immediately went hot.
“Like what?” he asked in a husky voice, as if he knew what I’d been thinking.
“Like photography,” I said.
He let out a gravelly laugh.
“You knew what that saying meant,” I said, seeing the teasing crinkle of his eyes.
“I just wanted to hear you explain it.” He reached out and plucked a picture off his wall, one from the water section. It was a blue Volkswagen Beetle. He held it out for me. “Here’s a start for your restaurant.”
I gasped. “Do not dismantle this masterpiece.” The photo had a clear, jellylike dot of adhesive on the back, and I used it to put it right back into place.
He took me by the waist, pulling me away from the wall and into his arms. “You’re not the boss of me.”
My back was pressed against his front, and I reached up and wrapped one arm around his neck. “If I hire you to do photography for the restaurant, then I kind of am.”
“My skills aren’t for hire. They only come as a perk.” His mouth was pressed against my neck, and the words came out muffled. Or maybe they came out muffled because blood rushed through my ears all the way down my body, ending with a deep throbbing between my legs.
“A perk?” I asked, breathless.
“A perk of dating me.”
“Are you holding your skills ransom?”
He turned me in his arms. “I have no idea what we’re talking about anymore,” he said. “I can’t think.” And with those words, my back was against the closest wall and his lips were on my neck, then tracing a pattern to the soft spot beneath my ear.
“Not on the beach,” I said, trying to move us.
