and wise blue eyes that did a poor job of hiding his impatience.
Since I’m a contrary bastard, I wasn’t surprised when a solid kick of attraction slammed into my gut. Yep, this is familiar territory.
“Thanks, man. I can’t believe I did that.”
His eyebrow lifted. “Do you need a hand?” Then his gaze narrowed. “Or are you hurt?”
“Oh.” I was still sprawled on the ground while he stood over me. I shook my head, denying any injury. I felt my face flush with embarrassment. Nothing left to do but try to get off the ground with a sliver of dignity intact. I may be in decent shape, but my ninja skills are seriously impaired.
“I’m good.” I met his gaze. “Thanks for save.” I held out my hand and gave what I hoped passed for a charming smile. “I’m Adam Locke.”
Somewhat reluctantly, he accepted my handshake. “Brandon.”
Okay, standing and staring at him awkwardly was lame. It was time to scurry off and lick my wounds in private. I bent to pick up the keys I had dropped in my absentminded attempt to become roadkill. That was when I noticed the most electric blue eyes I had ever seen, peeking from behind Brandon’s leg.
Almost of its own accord, my hand reached for the camera I’d slung over my shoulder, thumbing the power, releasing the lens, and checking the light meter. Any aches I felt vanished in that second. Those eyes were stunning.
“Whoa, what do you think you’re doing?”
Huh? He needed an explanation? I mean, my camera was nearing my face—what else could I possibly be doing?
But again, I managed to bite my tongue and patiently explain “I’m taking a picture of your dog, her eyes. I’ll give you a copy.”
I raised the camera again, ready to get her set in frame, when a hand blocked my view. With a deep sigh, I glanced up at him. Okay, fine, he was hot and my own personal hero, but man, don’t interfere with my composition. “Yes?” I didn’t drag the syllable out, honest.
Brandon’s mouth flattened to a hard line. “I didn’t ask you to take a picture.”
Chuckling lightly, I said, “I’m not going to charge you. Consider it a thank you.” I glanced at the Weimaraner puppy who’d scooted behind Brandon, only a portion of the black velvet snout visible. “How old is she? She’s a she, right? What’s her name?” Without my say-so, my voice shifted to a higher register. “C’mere, sweetie, can I pet you?” I shared my I’m-harmless-you-can-trust-me smile that won over parents and kids alike.
He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed deeply. “She’s four months old. Yes, Lulu’s female. And thanks, but no thanks.” He stepped to the side and gave a gentle tug on the leash.
“Wait. Um, you’re just leaving?” Stupid question. “What I mean is, if now’s a bad time, I can take Lulu’s picture whenever works for you. Let me give you my number, I’ll work around your schedule.”
Listen to me—like my calendar wasn’t packed with commitments and a hellacious editing queue. For some inexplicable reason, I was reluctant to let him walk away with such a crappy first impression of me. I’m likable. Hell, I go out of my way to be likable, because that’s who I am. I’m a likable, nice guy. Are you convinced yet? Ugh.
But as Brandon edged another step further away while glancing around the area, I realized he wasn’t just trying to leave, he was trying to escape. The weight of my disappointment was near crushing.
This time, I was the one taking the step back—literally and figuratively.
I’m not a sensitive flower, so the hurt feelings at his rebuff didn't make a lick of sense. This irritated me to no end. With a clenched jaw, I stood at my full height, doing my best to convey the composure I usually sported without effort.
I determinedly met his gaze, wanting to exude sincerity. “I appreciate your timely intervention, Brandon.” I didn’t wait around for his response. I merely turned and took the scenic route to my studio. I was
Since I’m a contrary bastard, I wasn’t surprised when a solid kick of attraction slammed into my gut. Yep, this is familiar territory.
“Thanks, man. I can’t believe I did that.”
His eyebrow lifted. “Do you need a hand?” Then his gaze narrowed. “Or are you hurt?”
“Oh.” I was still sprawled on the ground while he stood over me. I shook my head, denying any injury. I felt my face flush with embarrassment. Nothing left to do but try to get off the ground with a sliver of dignity intact. I may be in decent shape, but my ninja skills are seriously impaired.
“I’m good.” I met his gaze. “Thanks for save.” I held out my hand and gave what I hoped passed for a charming smile. “I’m Adam Locke.”
Somewhat reluctantly, he accepted my handshake. “Brandon.”
Okay, standing and staring at him awkwardly was lame. It was time to scurry off and lick my wounds in private. I bent to pick up the keys I had dropped in my absentminded attempt to become roadkill. That was when I noticed the most electric blue eyes I had ever seen, peeking from behind Brandon’s leg.
Almost of its own accord, my hand reached for the camera I’d slung over my shoulder, thumbing the power, releasing the lens, and checking the light meter. Any aches I felt vanished in that second. Those eyes were stunning.
“Whoa, what do you think you’re doing?”
Huh? He needed an explanation? I mean, my camera was nearing my face—what else could I possibly be doing?
But again, I managed to bite my tongue and patiently explain “I’m taking a picture of your dog, her eyes. I’ll give you a copy.”
I raised the camera again, ready to get her set in frame, when a hand blocked my view. With a deep sigh, I glanced up at him. Okay, fine, he was hot and my own personal hero, but man, don’t interfere with my composition. “Yes?” I didn’t drag the syllable out, honest.
Brandon’s mouth flattened to a hard line. “I didn’t ask you to take a picture.”
Chuckling lightly, I said, “I’m not going to charge you. Consider it a thank you.” I glanced at the Weimaraner puppy who’d scooted behind Brandon, only a portion of the black velvet snout visible. “How old is she? She’s a she, right? What’s her name?” Without my say-so, my voice shifted to a higher register. “C’mere, sweetie, can I pet you?” I shared my I’m-harmless-you-can-trust-me smile that won over parents and kids alike.
He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed deeply. “She’s four months old. Yes, Lulu’s female. And thanks, but no thanks.” He stepped to the side and gave a gentle tug on the leash.
“Wait. Um, you’re just leaving?” Stupid question. “What I mean is, if now’s a bad time, I can take Lulu’s picture whenever works for you. Let me give you my number, I’ll work around your schedule.”
Listen to me—like my calendar wasn’t packed with commitments and a hellacious editing queue. For some inexplicable reason, I was reluctant to let him walk away with such a crappy first impression of me. I’m likable. Hell, I go out of my way to be likable, because that’s who I am. I’m a likable, nice guy. Are you convinced yet? Ugh.
But as Brandon edged another step further away while glancing around the area, I realized he wasn’t just trying to leave, he was trying to escape. The weight of my disappointment was near crushing.
This time, I was the one taking the step back—literally and figuratively.
I’m not a sensitive flower, so the hurt feelings at his rebuff didn't make a lick of sense. This irritated me to no end. With a clenched jaw, I stood at my full height, doing my best to convey the composure I usually sported without effort.
I determinedly met his gaze, wanting to exude sincerity. “I appreciate your timely intervention, Brandon.” I didn’t wait around for his response. I merely turned and took the scenic route to my studio. I was
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