“Fuck,” I mutter as I pull her back into my chest.

She gives a tiny laugh and mumbles. “I adore you too, Max. More and more each day.”

And that is enough for now.

Chapter 18

Jules

“So this is kind of exciting, right?” I ask Max as I stand a few feet away from the stylist chair he’s sitting in. He looks extremely uncomfortable with a plastic drape secured around him while the hairstylist works some magic on him.

Not that he needs magic, because he could roll out of bed and easily win the hottest sports bachelor title, but apparently he needs some type of special makeup for the camera—which has already been done—and his hair needs some trimming, which I disagree with. If he wasn’t so miserable looking, I’d have to laugh, but I can’t do that to him.

“That’s not the word I would use to describe this,” Max responds flatly and I have to fight with myself not to grin at his sullenness.

I take a look around. The photo shoot is being done in a downtown Raleigh studio with nothing but a plain white backdrop and Max. Well, there will be a few different outfits, or so we’ve been told by the reporter from Sports World magazine who is overseeing the shoot and will interview Max at some point. I’m really looking forward to the one that will just be done in training shorts with him curling some dumbbells and flexing his eight-pack, but I don’t tell him that because he would not get a kick out of me getting a kick out of this. So I try to look as somber as he does while the stylist runs clippers over his neckline.

I didn’t realize there would be this many people here for the photo shoot. In addition to the stylist currently working Max over, there’s a makeup artist who is at the next station organizing her implements and a wardrobe specialist who is currently choosing Max’s outfits from a clothing rack on wheels. There’s also the photographer and his assistant who are currently working on lighting, as well as another woman who appears to be a general gofer of sorts, but for the most part she hangs in the background and does a lot of texting on her phone while Max gets beautified.

The studio door opens and two women walk in. Both are tall and thin with long flowing hair—one brunette and the other auburn—and without them even saying a word, I know they’re models. They’re two damn beautiful to be anything else.

“Leigh . . . Amber . . .” the makeup artist says as she spies them. “One of you hit wardrobe, the other get in my chair and we’ll get started.”

The brunette veers off toward the wardrobe person, who I now see is pulling what looks to be tiny little bikinis off the rack. The blonde heads our way, giving a slight smile to me as I stare at her, then her eyes connect to Max’s through the mirror he’s facing while his hair gets styled.

His eyes immediately come to mine through the mirror, both eyebrows raised, and he gives me a little shrug.

I give him a little shrug back.

Guess he’s going to have some models in the shoot with him.

“Okay,” the hairstylist announces as she whips the plastic cape from Max. “You’re all done and you can head to wardrobe.”

Max shoots out of the chair as the stylist calls out, “Amber . . . I’m ready for you.”

Amber takes three hangers of bikinis from the wardrobe person and spins our way, walking quickly to the stylist. She looks again at me, then Max, giving a nod of her head with a smile, and takes the seat he just vacated. I have to wonder what in the hell the stylist and makeup artist will do to these women because they already look perfect to me.

Max steps into me and his hand goes to my lower back. He starts to push me along with him over to the wardrobe rack. His head leans down to mine and he whispers, “I hate this shit, just so you know.”

I struggle not to laugh but merely give a grave nod of my head. “I know, honey. It will all be over soon.”

His hand slides up my back, curls around my neck, and he stops me in mid stride. Bending down, he brushes his mouth against mine lightly before saying, “Thank you again for coming with me.”

I turn into him, bring my hands to his chest and peer up into those fabulous hazel eyes. “You never have to thank me for being there for you. It really is my pleasure, babe.”

He grins down at me before his hands encircle around my back and he pulls me in close. He lays a quick kiss on top of my head and then releases me before heading over to the wardrobe rack.

It really is quite impressive how everyone seems to move with efficiency, almost like an assembly line of beautiful people getting polished up to make them űber beautiful. While the wardrobe stylist starts going over the outfits with Max—again, the training shorts being my favorite—the reporter comes up and starts the interview, asking just some basic short questions to get the process started. I take that as my cue it’s time for me to get out of the way, so I head over to a long couch up against the back wall where the woman I pegged as a gofer continues to type on her phone.

When I approach, she looks up and gives me a welcoming smile. She’s young . . . maybe late teens, early twenties, and really pretty. She’s got long blond hair that is naturally wavy and she’s dressed super trendy in black skinny jeans and ankle boots. She has on a white dress shirt and tight fitting light gray sweater over it, the bottom of the shirt sticking out. On her head sits a black fedora, and she has a plethora of Alex and Ani bangles on both wrists.

“Hey,” I say as I take a seat on the opposite end from her.

Her smile gets bigger and she turns to face me, crossing one leg over the other and resting her phone face down on her thigh. “Hey. I’m Camille. This is my dad’s studio.”

“Oh,” I say, clearly having pegged her wrong. “So your dad . . . he’s the photographer?”

She glances over at him, her lips curving upward and her eyes shimmering with adoration. “That he is. I’m just hanging out with him this evening and then we’re going to catch a late dinner together.”

“Cool,” I say with a nod and then point a finger at myself. “I’m Julianne but I go by Jules to most everyone.”

She tips her head Max’s way. “I’m guessing girlfriend, right?”

I give a soft laugh even as my cheeks go pink a little, because I think that’s the first time I’ve been referenced by someone as Max’s girlfriend. It kind of feels nice.