Picture Perfect (18 page)

I narrowed my eyes. “I think you missed a wrinkle or something in your tights.”

This dead look washed the life away in her eyes, and she bent her leg so it was eclipsed by the shadow of the seat. That position changed the whole trajectory of the shot, the path I wanted people’s eyes to follow - reef, hair, face, arm, leg, big freaking sea turtle. It was petty, but the inner perfectionist in me said, “Actually, do you mind putting your leg back up please?”

She stared at me, her features drawn tight with something I couldn’t identify - shame, maybe? “Why?” she asked warily.

I stood there for a few seconds, unsure of her sudden change in demeanor. “Um, because I have a certain way I want the shot to look?”

“Oh. Of course.” She propped leg back up as if it suddenly weighed a ton.

“Thanks.” I lifted the camera and frowned. There was that weird jagged ridge of light again. “Hey, I know this probably makes me sound like a prick, but would you mind straightening out that wrinkle in your tights?”

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“… Why not?”

She took a deep breath, as if bracing herself. “Because it’s not a wrinkle.”

I paused, staring at the vulnerable creature who’d replaced my indomitable muse.

Her eyes finally met mine, heavy and dark. “It’s a scar.”

A scar? From her thigh clear down to her ankle? And what kind of scar was so big it made a huge ridge like that, and how come I never noticed it before?

Because she’s always been wearing thigh-high boots, pants, or something else to hide them. And if she wore tights, I always shot her from the opposite side - she’d made sure of that.

I marveled at how she’d had the cleverness to hide it. It seemed like that would grow exhausting, constantly thinking about what people saw.

“What happened?” I asked at last.

The edginess I’d first seen in her posture, in her eyes, when I first met her resurfaced. “An accident.”

I smiled slightly at her throwing my own words back at me. “Fair enough.”

What the hell happened to you, my Angel?

“Stop looking at me like that,” she said
, interrupting my thoughts.

I blinked. “Like what?”

“Like you feel sorry for me. Don’t. It happened a long time ago.”

Her steely words sounded more like they were for her own assurance than mine. “No problem,” I said casually, hoping to
alleviate some of the tension between us. “Do you want to call it a day?”

“Sure,” she said quickly, getting up.

Inside, I deflated.
Way to ruin the mood, Devin.
Whatever I’d said, it had struck a nerve. A very sensitive nerve, judging from the way she was hightailing it out of the tunnel toward the exit.

Heaving a resigned sigh, I hastily packed up my things and went after her. She was already outside, tapping her foot as if impatient to leave. That saddened me. Could she really be that desperate to get away?

“Do you, um, need a ride?” I asked.

“No,” she said, smiling tightly. “But thanks. My roommate’s on her way.”

“Oh. Well, then, I’ll wait with you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Please, I’m not leaving you here. It’s getting dark.”

We sat on the curb, the coldness of the concrete walkway seeping into my butt. That foot of hers kept tap
ping. And tapping and tapping and tapping. That’s when I noticed the goose bumps breaking out over her arms. I nearly sighed with relief. She wasn’t tapping her foot because she was ready to get out of here - she was tapping it because she was cold.

“Here,” I said, handing her my jacket.

She stilled, stunned as I held it open for her. “Er, thank you.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” I said as she slid her arms into the oversized sleeves. My jacket was going to swallow her. I was jealous it was allowed this close and I wasn’t.

“You didn’t.” The tightness around her eyes and mouth softened as she smiled at me. “It’s just, I never talk about it with anyone.”

“I understand, you know. Everybody has their secrets.”

She paused before slipping her arm into the other sleeve, her eyes catching mine. “Even you?”

“Especially me.”

She stared at me a moment longer, chewing on that sexy bottom lip as if debating something, then nodded and reached for the second sleeve. The pale surface of her skin glinted in the waning light before it disappeared into the sleeve.

I frowned. Reaching for her arm, I gently tugged it back so I could get a better look at her wrist.

My jaw dropped.

I hadn’t imagined it. There they were, four finger-sized bluish-purple bruises blooming under her skin.

“Did someone hurt you?” I asked, or more like demanded. Already anger was sharpening my words, making my jaw work. The thought of someone hurting her filled me with rage.

Her face paled
, and she snatched back her wrist, pulling the sleeve down as far as it would go. “It’s none of your business.”

“Your damn right it is! If someone’s trying to hurt you, you need to tell me.”

Fury hardened her petite features. “Why? So you can come protect me, like some fucking knight in shining armor?”

“Well, yeah, maybe, if that’s what it takes to get them to leave you alone.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know you well enough to know you sure as hell deserve to be treated better. God help me, if someone’s laid a hand on you -”

“You’ll what, Devin?” she shouted, cutting me off. “Bash their face in? Throw them across the room, or on the floor, and start kicking their teeth in?”

I blinked, startled. “No. Why would you think that?”

Her eyes betrayed her source. It hit me like a punch to the face, rendering me dumbstruck for a few seconds while my brain tried to process it. “You know, don’t you?” I whispered.

She went completely still. “Know what?”

Our gazes locked, neither willing to look away. I didn’t even realize I was gripping her arms until I could feel her heartbeat quicken through her shirt.

A car horn honked a few feet away, making us both jump, followed by the flash of headlights as a car pulled up. “Hey, lovebirds!” Tammara called from the window. “Did I interrupt?”

Angel sent a death glare at her roommate, then pulled free from my grasp. It wasn’t hard. My fingers felt numb, like the fear of revealing my darkest secret to this incredible woman had paralyzed me.

“Forget I asked,” she hissed, getting up. “And don’t bother trying to protect me. I can look after myself.”
She took off my jacket and roughly handed it to me as she said it.

I watched her stomp to the car and slam the door, staring after the glare of the taillights long after they’d gone, and wishing I could put my whole life on rewind so I could be the man she needed and the man I wished I was.

CHAPTER 20

Angel

I WAS IN A
foul mood for the rest of the week. Devin was everywhere; in my dreams, lurking in the back of my thoughts, and in the margins of my homework assignments. His voice stayed with me, the intensity in his eyes matching the passion in his words as he told me I deserved better.

I deserve better. I deserve better. I deserve better.

It was the most repeated phrase in my thoughts, sinking down into my pores, along with him telling me he wanted to protect me, like really be there for me like a guardian angel. Those words scared me in my core. I knew better than to believe them. The last time someone had said they’d look after me, I’d ended up in a pool of my own blood on the kitchen floor.

My throat tightened with anger, accompanied by a soul-sucking sadness I had fought every second to ignore because I didn’t like the person I became when it consumed me.

Never again.

Devin - any man - could never get close enough to make me feel that powerless again. I couldn’t go through that anymore; piecing myself back together after what happened
had been next to impossible. I didn’t know if I could do it a second time.

By the time my shift at
The Fox Hunt
rolled around, I was so mentally and emotionally drained that the exhaustion had crept into my limbs, making me sluggish as I pulled on my gloves, the last piece of my Curtis-approved ensemble. My eyes burned from lack of sleep, and I winced as the glove slid over the bruises that had darkened to a nice violet. I hadn’t noticed them until I started getting dressed for the photo shoot at the aquarium. I hadn’t thought Brayden had gripped me that hard, but the discolored skin proved otherwise.

I deserve better.

“Hey, the show’s almost halfway over,” Tammara said, her blond curls bouncing as she walked up to me. “You coming?”

I finished pulling the glove on and blinked a few times, clearing my head. “Yeah.” I slammed my locker shut and started to march past her when she gently grabbed my arm.

“Is everything okay?” Tammara asked. “You were really quiet on the ride home from your modeling gig, and you’ve been edgy ever since. Did something happen?”

I gritted my teeth, pulling my arm from her grasp. “It’s nothing. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Tam nodded. She was used to my sometimes curt answers, knowing I would open up when I wanted to. It was one of the reasons we got along so well. “Okay,” she said, smiling softly.

I started to leave, then paused, turning back around. “Devin and I kissed and now things are awkward.”

Her brows shot up. “Oh. Well, was it good?”

I scoffed at her. “It doesn’t matter if it was good. It’s forbidden.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s my boss. Sort of.”

Tam cocked her head to the side, a knowing smile on her face. “Are you afraid because he’s your boss, or because you might get hurt again?”

The icy prickle of fear that washed over me screamed Tam had struck the nail on the head.

Damn.

“What the hell are you doing?”

We both whirled to find a red-faced Curtis leaning in the doorway. He pointed to me. “You’re supposed to be on stage. We’ve been vamping your intro for the past three minutes.”

My eyes widened so quickly they nearly shot out of my head. “Oh. Sorry. I’ll be right there.” I shot Tammara a pointed look that said, “We’ll finish this later.”

She gave me a little wave, but I noticed the apprehensive gleam in her eyes right before I turned the corner, and she vanished from view.

Curtis practically ran to the stage. “Hurry up and get your ass up here. Jesus.”

He ran a hand over his mouth, and my stomach churned. Luckily there were stagehands behind the curtain, so I didn’t think he would try anything. All the same, my heart raced as the thump of the bass vibrated in my feet and my hand brushed the velveteen texture of the dusty curtain.

He gripped my arms, halting me from stepping out. “Now you listen to me. I have been lenient these past few weeks. You’ve floated through your duties without a care, but I’m telling you that if you don’t put on one hell of a performance tonight, you’re gone. You understand me?”

Gone? Was he really going to fire me? If he did, I could kiss my tuition assistance and probably my whole senior year goodbye. It became very hard to breathe.

When I didn’t respond, he shook me hard. “Do you understand me?”

I nodded vigorously. “Yes.”

Hunger of a different kind passed over his face as his eyes dropped to my very exposed breasts. I shivered, revolted.

“Sir, we’re ready when you are,” one of the stage managers said, walking up.

Curtis’s hands droppe
d, and I stepped away from him. I rubbed my arms, suddenly cold.

He nodded at the other man, then jerked his head to me. “Break a leg.”

I thought he’d leave, but he remained rooted to the spot. He crossed his arms and glared at me expectantly.

I felt like a prisoner about to walk the plank. I gripped the edge of the curtain, peering out at the roaring audience. Most nights, the stage never bothered me. But tonight… tonight I wanted to be somewhere else -
with
someone else.

I deserve better.

“Get on with it!” Curtis barked, snapping his fingers.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself past the curtain, slipping into performance mode. Seduced by the lights and the catcalls of our patrons, it was normally easy to forget I was flouncing around, mostly naked, in front of complete strangers. Yet with every move my muscles knotted, making my movements stiff and the routine jagged. Panic rose in my chest. What the hell was I doing? I never planned on being here, up on a stage strutting around like a harlot. I had a different life planned out, that is, before Dad ruined it all.

The house was packed tonight, leaving standing room only. Normally we never overbooked, but Curtis’s divorce must have put him in a financial bind. Foxes struggled to maneuver between the rowdy men, who seemed twice as rough. The air stank of alcohol and sweat, triggering a memory where I lay on the kitchen floor, whimpering, while my dad bent over me. His breath smelled of whiskey and stale sweat as he told me I didn’t have to worry about anything anymore.