Camera Shy (Lessons in Love Book 1)

I am exhausted.

I don’t know how women do this every single freaking day.

Lucky for me, Palmer talked me into full-body laser hair removal years ago, so shaving wasn’t necessary. Still, it took me hours to pluck my eyebrows, put on a face mask, then wash, blow-dry, and curl my long hair. I spent an ungodly amount of time going down the rabbit hole of smoky-eye tutorials, which turns out I suck at, so I ended up settling on several thick coats of mascara, black eyeliner, a little pink eyeshadow, and matching blush. This is about as glam as I can get it.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

It’s not about impressing Finn. It’s about impressing myself. I can do this. I can learn to appreciate more about myself than the business I created. Looks shouldn’t be the most important thing…but should they still be a thing? Is a man wrong for wanting a woman to try a little bit? Maybe with Mason I should’ve put on makeup and worn clothes that didn’t look like they barely survived a moth attack. There is a part of me that knows I’m partially culpable for Mason’s lack of interest in our sex life.

But I can turn this around.

This is my decade. I won’t wallow. I won’t whine. I will figure this out. I will have my cake and eat it, too. I’ll find a man who can do more than tolerate me. One day, I’ll have children with a man who loves to be cozy with me in sweatpants but appreciates me in the bedroom too. A unicorn? Perhaps. But I’m great at research. I’ll find him if it’s the last thing I do.

Or die single.

Whichever comes first.

I head to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. I’m walking around in my bra and underwear because Finn did not tell me what time he was picking me up tonight and I don’t have his number. I’m assuming he’s picking me up. There’s a small chance he thinks I’m meeting him at the restaurant, but seeing as I don’t know which restaurant we’re going to, I sincerely hope he’s not that clueless.

He told me he was done with work around six o’clock, so I’ve been primped and polished since six on the dot. My dress is on a hanger, dangling from the staircase railing, and my strappy black heels are lined up neatly underneath. My satin dress is restricting, so I figured I’d enjoy my comfort until Finn rings the doorbell. If this is going to continue for the summer, we need to plan better. I’m not sure if I’m going to be in my underwear for minutes or hours. I’m a dinner at five-thirty kind of girl, but Vegas people are a different breed.

Cold water bottle in hand, I hunch over, peering into the enormous built-in fish tank in the living room that doubles as a see-through wall. Where is she…ah, there’s my little spaz.

“Hey, Cherry, so dumdum, as in my ex-boyfriend Mason, hasn’t sent the reports on Legacy Resorts yet, therefore instead of working on my big proposal, I did some research on you today. I’m pretty sure you’re a Cherry Barb.” Wow. I’m talking to a fish…a fish that paces like it’s high on cocaine. “I’ll ask Dex when he’s back, but if I’m right, can we pause for a moment and appreciate how apt and intuitive my nickname is for you? I started calling you Cherry a week ago.”

I raise my brows at the tank as if I expect the little fish to answer.

“Also, please don’t be offended, but I’ve dubbed you she because you’re so shiny and pretty. If you are a male and that’s offensive, I sincerely apologize. Apparently, the only way I can confirm your gender is by scooping you out of the water, gutting you, and checking your intestines, and we’re just not going to do that, Cherry. But it seems rude to continue to call you ‘it.’ You have such a big personality for a fish. I watch you all the time. You’re a total spaz. You either have severe anxiety, or that fish goop the aquarium guy feeds you once a week has you on uppers. But I don’t mind. You’re up at all hours of the day and night, and it makes me feel less alone. Mason and I are a mess. Palmer’s so wrapped up in her show. My parents are on another planet. You’re the only one I can really talk to whenever—”

“You can talk to me.”

I shoot up straight and immediately try to cover my bare ass that my thong does not conceal. Spinning around, my heartbeat doesn’t calm when I see Finn leaning in the doorway of the sliding glass patio doors.

He’s chuckling at me. The smug bastard is in stitches as I try my best to cover my nakedness. “I already saw your bare ass bent over, sweetheart. I licked your pussy clean last night. What’re you trying to hide?”

I open my mouth and then close it. I can’t think of anything better to say, so I blurt out, “Lurker. How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long. Just since you told Cherry you wouldn’t gut her to check out her equipment.”

I’m not sure what’s more concerning at the moment—that Finn caught me talking to a fish, or caught me in my underwear, talking to a fish.

“Why wouldn’t you ring the doorbell?”

“I did,” Finn says, holding up three fingers. “Three times. You didn’t answer. I came through the back to make sure you were okay. You live alone here, Avery. If we make plans and you don’t answer the door…I’m going to check on you.”

I take a moment to eye him up and down and as my shock and mortification simmer, I have time to notice how handsome he looks dressed up in clean black slacks and a baby blue button-down that matches his eyes. He has a sports coat draped over his arm.

“I guess I didn’t hear the doorbell from upstairs.”

He shrugs as he enters and closes the sliding door behind him. “Well, I’m here now. You ready? Or do you need more time? Our Uber is outside.”

“Uber?”

“Yeah, it’s a pain in the ass to park my truck on the Strip. It’s easier to get dropped off.”

“We’re going to the Strip?”

He cinches one eye closed. “Is that okay?”

I nod, still stupefied at his attire. He’s dazzling. There’s no other way to describe it. Good grief. He’s so sweet and normal, I forgot he’s a god among men. How the hell did I trick this man into taking me out to dinner? We’re not even the same species.

I pull my gold clutch off the kitchen counter and make my way to the front door. My head is a little fuzzy. I really felt in control of this situation until now…

Finn is wonderful in every way. I thought I completely understood that he’s too good to be true…for me. He needs a princess, a real prize. I’m just his friend. That’s why this works. He’s safe with me just like I’m safe with him because our hearts are not involved. I tighten my jaw as I reach the front door. Stay out of it, feelings. I don’t want to walk down the painful path of unrequited love.

“Hey, Avery?”

“Yes?” I ask, spinning around.

“Should we put on your dress? As much as I’m enjoying the view, the restaurant has a dress code and at the bare minimum, you need to be dressed.”

“Oh, fuck me,” I mumble, palming my forehead, mumbling to myself. Okay, I officially need to calm the hell down. I was about two seconds away from walking outside in my thong and bra, not to mention barefoot.

“That’s the one?” Finn asks, pointing to my dress hanging from the staircase.

“Yep.”

He fetches it for me, pulling it off the hanger. “Do you step in, or does it go over your head?” he asks, examining my sleek black dress.

“Overhead,” I say as I grab my shoes and slip into them. I reach for my dress, but Finn doesn’t hand it over. He swivels his finger in the air.

“Turn around.” There’s a determination in his voice. “Arms up.”

I do as I’m told, relieved that he can’t see my face. This is a level of intimacy I wasn’t quite prepared for. Rough and tumble sex, sure. That I was expecting from a man who’d make professional models feel insecure. But his tenderness? His slow, sweet touches? Checking on me instead of abandoning our plans when I didn’t answer the doorbell? Taking me to dinner to show me kindness and respect?

I think I bit off way more than I can chew…

Once the fabric cloaks my body, Finn traces my curves with both hands, smoothing my dress in place. “This fits you like a glove.” Spinning me around, he keeps his hands on the outward curve of my hips as he studies me. I feel my cheeks reddening. Shit. What can I do? I can’t control it. “Your makeup is really pretty and your dress is stunning, Avery.” He hooks his finger under my chin and tilts my head upward, forcing me to stare into his eyes. I notice he always does this when he’s about to compliment me when he really wants me to soak up his praise. “You look like royalty—a goddamn queen.”

I couldn’t control my smile if I tried. I want to say thank you, but I’m speechless.

“Just remember, you’re going out with me tonight,” Finn continues. “I don’t care who hits on you this evening. You’re coming home with me.” He taps the tip of my nose. “No trading me for something better.”

He releases my hips and strides past me, grabbing my hand in the process and leading me toward the front door. He snags my clutch off the entry table then tucks it under his arm so all I have to hold is his warm hand interlaced with mine.

Something better, Finn? Ha. No such thing.

Finn seems slightly agitated, but I’m happy as a clam. It might have something to do with my third whiskey sour. I can’t even feel my feet anymore, which is great, because we’ve been standing for forty-five minutes at the bar. Finn made a reservation, but the restaurant clearly gives zero fucks about calling ahead.

“Sorry,” he mutters, scouring the restaurant. “It shouldn’t take this long.”

“Finn, I’m fine.” I pop a maraschino cherry in my mouth and munch happily. Just give me a few more cherries, and we can call this dinner. It’s already the perfect evening. This restaurant is fantastic. I’m not used to such a swanky, club-like vibe paired with the most sophisticated menu I’ve ever seen. It just feels nice to be out and dolled up for once. I wish Palmer could see me now, with my makeup, in this dress, at this restaurant, with this man. I swear she’d tear up and slow clap—her life mission complete.

“We’re packed like sardines. You must be uncomfortable,” he grumbles. “I’m uncomfortable.”

He’s spot-on. About thirty of us, waiting on our tables, are huddled around a bar that would barely seat twelve. Elbow to elbow, everyone is crammed, hungry, and grumpy…except me, especially when I find a bonus maraschino cherry at the bottom of my drink. Munch, munch, munch.

I’m about to tell Finn to calm down because I’m thoroughly enjoying myself when I notice a small hand with red manicured nails slink over his. Finn freezes and turns his alarmed expression to the woman standing next to him.

“What’re you drinking?” she says over the dull roar of the restaurant. “That looks good.”

Finn flashes me a quick telling look, his eyes bulging. Save me, he says wordlessly. But I don’t. Because the woman standing next to him is slim, blond, beautiful, and I suddenly feel very out of place standing next to Finn.

“It’s their signature whiskey.” Finn takes the opportunity to remove his hand from under hers and points to the top shelf of the bar. “That one right there.”

He angles his shoulders to face me, but the blond woman isn’t dissuaded.

“Would you recommend it on the rocks or neat?” she asks. But I’m almost certain this woman with the pouty red lips and platinum-blond hair doesn’t drink whiskey. She wants to drink Finn.

“Depends on what you like, I suppose,” Finn replies with a clipped smile.

“What do you like?” she basically purrs.

Wow.

I can tell Finn is torn. He doesn’t want to be a dick. It’d be easier if I was the kind of woman who’d throw her drink in this poacher’s face and tell her to back the fuck off my man. Except I’m not that kind of woman…

And Finn is not my man.

“I like what I have.” Finn taps the side of his glass, making the ice clink in his whiskey on the rocks. But it’s obvious his response is edgy and laced with double meaning. I like what I have. Does he mean me?

“You’re more than welcome to order me one on your next round,” she replies, shooting him a wink. I watch his strong jaw twitch. Now he’s annoyed.

“I’m with a friend this evening,” he says.

In the most unsubtle, mean-girl way possible, the blond woman leans backward, looking me up and down. She snorts to herself. “Oh well, then excuse me,” she snarks. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you and your friend.”

Yes, you did. You meant to interrupt. You just couldn’t fathom he’d pick me over you.

“Hey, do you want to go somewhere else?” Finn asks. “I’m sorry about all this.”

I shake my head. “No, this place seems great. I can wait.” I try to sound chirpy, but it’s too late. He notices my mood slightly deflated and my eyes that are probably just a shade less sparkly. It’s the result of a stranger subtly insulting you.

“Miss,” Finn says sternly as a hostess, dressed from head to toe in black, passes by the bar. I’m surprised when he catches her by the wrist. She looks alarmed as well, even as Finn immediately drops her arm. “Is Angelo in tonight?”

The hostess narrows her eyes. “As in the manager?”

“Yes,” Finn says, trying his best to curb his annoyance.

Overworked and dealing with endless customer complaints, the hostess matches his annoyance. “He’s in his office, but there’s nothing complaining will do for you. We’re overbooked. We’ll let you know when your table is ready.” She all but hisses at Finn.

Pulling his wallet out of his back pocket, Finn produces a one hundred dollar bill. He folds it between his fingers and holds it out to the hostess. “Will you please take a moment to tell Angelo that Griffin Harvey the Third is here, waiting at the bar, and would really like to say hello before I leave?” He wiggles the bill at her. “Can you remember all that or do you need me to write it down?”

Snatching the bill from his fingers, she grumbles something under her breath.“I’ll let him know,” she says clearly before disappearing into the back of the restaurant.

Finn places his hand on my lower back and leans down to whisper into my ear. He smells intoxicating. His rich cologne is sweet and earthy, with a touch of sandalwood. “Will you do me a favor?” Finn asks.

“Sure.”

“Don’t order any more drinks.”

I immediately shrivel in place. How insensitive of me. Actually, I’m all sorts of confused. On one hand, Finn’s business is struggling, hence our deal, but on the other, he just tipped the hostess one hundred bucks to simply deliver a message. I haven’t been to Finn’s house yet, but I know it’s much smaller than Dex’s. Then again, I saw Finn’s truck and either his car payment is more than his mortgage or he stole the damn thing.

“I’m sorry. I got carried away. These are expensive,” I say, nodding toward my whiskey sour on the bar. “Let me at least pay for my drinks. I insist.”

Confusion briefly flashes over his face until he realizes what I’m insinuating. He chuckles. “Oh, no, Avery. It’s not the money.” He leans in closer, dropping his tone. “All I want to do right now is rip off that dress, get you soaking wet for me, and then bend you over. You have no idea what’s coming for you tonight. But I can’t fuck you if you’re drunk.”

“Oh…” My breathing kicks up. When Finn says stuff like this in private, I know it’s part of the game. But in public? It feels dangerously sincere. Like he actually wants me all of his accord.

“That’s another lesson, by the way.” Finn winks at me.

“Huh?”

“Flirting in public. It’s good for your sex life.”

I nod in a hurry, hoping no one can hear us over the sea of chatter at the bar. “Got it. Public flirting. Noted. Um…but I’m not drunk, just so you know. Not even close.” Partial lie.

“You sure? Spell hippopotamus backward.”

I give him a deadpan stare. “I couldn’t do that completely sober, Finn.”

His laughter is playful as he rubs his palm from side to side across my lower back. I never remember Mason touching me like this in public. He’d open doors and pull out my chair like a gentleman, but he never touched me like this, at every opportunity, just because he wanted to.

“Mr. Harvey?”

We whip our heads around to see the hostess from before, back, with a tucked-tail expression on her face. “Angelo wanted to apologize for the delay. He’ll be out a little later to say hello. In the meantime, we have the VIP table ready for you.”

“Thank you,” Finn says expectantly. I’m incredibly impressed, but Finn nods like he knew exactly the card he played and what the end result would be.

“I’m sorry about before,” the hostess says, obviously nervous. “I’ve been getting yelled at all evening…but anyway, I didn’t realize who you are.”

“It’s fine. No apologies necessary. Thank you.” Finn smiles at me. “You ready, Queen?” He holds out his hand.

“Yes.” In perfect timing, my appetite hits me like a freight train. I’m starving. “Oh, we need to pay for our drinks, though.” I spin to try and flag down the bartender, but the hostess interrupts.

“No need. They’re comped. Right this way.” She gestures away from the bar, and my hand is almost in Finn’s until I notice the rude blond woman giving me a nasty stare with her lips pursed. I almost ignore it, taking a few steps behind Finn, but I suddenly change my mind.

“One second,” I say. “I forgot something.” I double back to the bar and grab my now watery whiskey sour. Making a point to brush up against the blond woman, I clear my throat. Her eyes, full of contempt, snap down at me. I take in a deep breath as I do something I’ve never done before…

Maybe it’s the drinks, maybe it’s Finn’s energy, or perhaps it’s the fact that I actually fixed up, went out, and am feeling damn good about myself tonight. You have no right to take that away from me. I won’t let you. So I proceed to put this bitch in her place.

“Your jealousy is warranted,” I say before I take a small sip of my drink. “His dick is huge, he fucks like a god, and he’s also the kindest man I’ve ever met.” I flash her a cocky smile. “Enjoy your evening.”

Spinning on my heel, I don’t bother to stick around for her reaction. But I hope her jaw is dropped and she’s shocked at my audacity.

“All good?” Finn asks. He’s waiting, his hand still outstretched for mine.

I lace my fingers in his. “All good.”