Kit laughs.“Sorry my business meetings bore you.”
I return my attention to my friends and roll my eyes.“Your business meetings are a joke.”
“Yeah, ’cause I’m the boss and I don’t have to answer to either of you schmucks.You aren’t invited to my real business meetings.”
“Hey, what you do in the basement of your parents’ house is none of our concern,” Morgan says.
“You’re the sucker who pays rent.”
I tune the two of them out again as they bicker.They don’t stare at Bailey, totally immune to the fact that she’s smoking hot.The four of us have always been protective of her, following Hunter’s lead, but I’ve heard from Morgan and Kit plenty of times that Bailey’s like a sister to them.
Kit’s got sisters of his own, and Morgan’s got an older brother, but Bailey’s always been the closest to our group.
But I have definitely never thought of Bailey as a sister.
Time passesby in a blur of skiing and working for Kit, but as January deepens, Bailey and I plan more and more.
And it’s torture.
Not the photo shoot prep—that part I can handle.I’ve researched reflector setups, planned compositions, and even drove by the Taylor house at the right time of day to check the lighting.
No, the torture is the texting.
At first it was logistics—what time works best, should she bring her own props, does the bedroom face east or west for morning light?
Then she started sending me photos of potential outfits.Just the items laid out on her bed, nothing scandalous.A sheer robe.A silk camisole.Thigh-high stockings still in the package.
But my brain fills in the rest.Bailey wearing them.Bailey looking at me while wearing them.
I’m a professional, I remind myself every time my phone buzzes with a new photo.This is just wardrobe consultation.
Except when she texts,Too much?Or not enough?with a picture of a black lace bodysuit, I have to put my phone down and take a walk.
The texts that kill me most aren’t even about the photo shoot.They’re the random ones.Bailey sends me a meme about cat psychology at 2 a.m.with the message:Your cat is judging you.Nohow are youorhope you’re doing well.Just the meme and an accusation.That’s so Bailey—affection disguised as snark.
And every time I talk to or see Hunter, I have to bite my tongue, which is a lot of tongue biting.We see each other most days, and even if I’ve been able to temporarily focus on something else, seeing him reminds me that I’m going to be photographing his sister mostly naked.
Twice Hunter catches me zoning out and I have to tell him I’m thinking about work.It’s not even a lie—I’ve been obsessively preparing for this shoot like it’s a paid gig forVogueinstead of a favor for a friend.
A friend who I can’t stop thinking about.
A friend who just sent me a text.
Bailey
So, we have a slight problem.
It’s Wednesday night—T-minus three days until the shoot—and I’m sitting in my house cuddling with Echo and watching something mindless on Netflix.
Bailey
I just talked to Mr Hutchinson and there was a leak at the Taylor house.
We’re supposed to do our photo shoot there this weekend, so that’s going to be a problem.
Bailey
Shit.You can’t use just one of the bedrooms?
