Chapter Four
FLORA
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“THE COWBOYS ARE betting on who can deliver the cheesiest Christmas pickup lines to the guests.” My sister passes me a strong black coffee, which I need after my sleepless night. “The winner is chosen based on the laughter response.”
“Who’s judging?” I play along, glancing at the entrance for the gazillionth time, wondering if Thorn will slide in at the last minute or if he has packed up and gone home.
There’s been no sign of him all morning, and I’ve been here since six, stuffing swag bags, adjusting the lighting, moving the set around, and mapping out the best angles. Even his brother arrived a half hour ago, but with fifteen minutes until the doors open and the lineup of women waiting to funnel in, that’s cutting it close.
“Wilma, Faye, and Rita are judging. That’s how I got the inside scoop.” Dani props herself on the stool next to my tripod.
I grin. “There’s an inside scoop, is there?” I set my coffee on the small side table between us to peer through the viewfinder and confirm the framing—again. It’s irritatingly inaccurate without Thorn taking his position.
“Yes. They’re not judging the giggling guests. No, that would be too easy.” Dani digs through a swag bag, which isn’t for her. “They are judging the photographers and assistants.”
Wonderful. Like I need more judgment my way.
“That’s you and me.” She unwraps a cookie and dunks it in her coffee.
“I caught that.”
“Where is Thorn?” Dani’s eyes navigate the room.
“That’s a good question.” Honestly, I’m curious. Is he even on the premises? I hope not.
“I’ll find out. Or I’ll find him. Or both.”
I hope not the latter.
I reposition a couple of the large white ornaments on the vintage Christmas tree flocked in white snow. It was one of the many pieces we dug out of storage.
I step back and appreciate how amazing the set turned out, even if it was a struggle to form complete sentences and directions to a scowling Thorn yesterday. The soft white accents dance against the rustic wood backdrop and Rocky Ridge Creek’s high-back carved Santa chair. The generously padded antique chair is upholstered in crimson velvet with gold trimmings. The local Santa sits on it yearly at the pancake lunch after the holiday parade. The log and stone fireplace, a fixed object on the local float every year, was a challenge to sneak off the float but worth the effort of the multiple cowboys it needed for transport. Plus, the extra hands gave me an excuse to keep my distance from Thorn.
“Ten minutes to go!” Mayor Thomas’ voice resonates through a megaphone. “Everyone to your places. Flora, where is Thorn Slater?”
“I don’t know, Mayor.”
“Thorn Slater, where are you? Get to your station asap! Where is Mr. Slater? Theo, where is your brother?!”
“Like Theo will know. He was too busy shacking up yo know anything about his brother.” Dani strolls back and drops onto Santa’s wingback chair. Her body bunches the chunky knit white blanket resting on the chair’s arm.
“Can you do me a solid?” I ask her. “And fix the blanket like a good little assistant?”
She sticks out her tongue at me.
“Flora, this is Kyle. He’s one of the stand-in cowboys here to switch places during the day for short breaks. He’s going to stand in for Thorn until he gets here.”
My prayers are answered.
“It’s nice to meet you, Flora.” He offers his big, rough hand, and it envelopes mine.
No sparks.
No heat.
No panty melting reaction at all.
Thorn has officially broken me.
“Nice to meet you. I’d like to give you a quick rundown of what I’m thinking about the pictures.”
“Absolutely.” The confident cowboy pulls off his T-shirt in one swoop over his head. His muscles flex in ways I didn’t know a man’s muscles could move.
My sister bolts out of the chair. “Do you need me to oil you down?” She opens the lid of a cute homemade bottle of lavender oil with playful purple writing from a local shop downtown.
The cowboy chuckles. “I ain’t opposed if that’s the look you want?” He slides his questioning gaze at me.
He’s flirting with me. Is he flirting with me?
“Yes. Smother the oil so the muscles pop for the photos.” Mayor Thomas pushes my sister toward the cowboy. “Five minutes to go!” His megaphone rings in my ear.
“Sure.” I clear my throat. “I mean, yes. The shinier, the better. For the overall project.”
My sister squirts a dollop of oil in her palm, and without asking, she smears it over the cowboy’s rock-hard abs.
“Oh my. These are solid.” Her hands linger over each spot she massages.
“There’ll be no need for that.” Just the sound of Thorn’s gruff voice behind me makes my heart flutter. “This corner is taken, Kyle.” He spits out his name.
A rush of awareness pulses through me as he steps around me—his freshly showered scent, relaxed body, confident strut, and the weight of his gaze on me.
He positions himself between me and his replacement. His cool stare pierces me, and an invisible force keeps me from looking away.
“Git your shirt off,” Mayor Thomas barks, wiping a plaid handkerchief over the sweat dripping down his brows.
Thorn executes the order, peeling away his shirt with absolute precision. Underneath the material is the sculpted torso of a god. Poor, whatever-his-name-is doesn’t have anything on this cowboy’s broad shoulders, chiseled chest, and sharp curves of his biceps.
My eyes roam hungrily along the dips and grooves, tapering down to a V that disappears tantalizingly into the waistband of his low-hung jeans.
This time, my mouth goes dry, and a dizzying mix of excitement spreads through me—including warmth pooling between my legs.
“Moving along.” Mayor Thomas’ piercing snap of his fingers also snaps my eyes back to Thorn’s eyes.
He’s waiting for me, as he claims he’s been doing since I left. I’d believe him if I were the same girl I was back then. I’d sneak out of the public eye to spend the day with him. But I’m not that naive girl. I know who the real Thorn is.
“Dani, you’re oiling the wrong cowboy.” The mayor points at Thorn. “Three minutes to go!”
“Ew. Gross.” Dani’s nose scrunches in that disgusted way she’s perfected. “Flora can do him.”
The way she says it has me blushing as red as cranberries in a holiday salad.
“I, um—” My stutter is plain sad.
“I got it.” Thorn takes the oil from my sister and uncaps it. How does even that little move make me hotter than a summer day by the creek?
The lighting catches the golden liquid as he pours it into his large hand. The muscles of his arms flex effortlessly as he slathers it over his sun-kissed skin. And the way his fingers glide is hypnotic. Each stroke is deliberate and slow. He focuses on his taut abdomen. His muscles flex and ripple under the caress of the oil.
I curse my heart for thrumming in time with his rhythmic movements.
“Care to lend a hand?” His deep and inviting tease ignites a fire within me.
“I think you’ve got it covered.”
“Is that our Santa chair?” Mayor Thomas huffs over to the chair before spinning back to us. “Who took this? It was you, wasn’t it?” The mayor points the megaphone at Thorn. “You stole the antique chair—”
“Hang on, now. I didn’t steal nothin’.” Thorn’s tone is calm.
“One minute, and those doors open to a stampede of photo-goers!” The mayor zips away from us with an unexpected burst of energy. “Theo, get back to your station!”
“Quick thing, Thorn.” Theo skids to a stop beside us, and I catch my sister giving his shirtless torso a once over—although she’d never admit it. “All the guys are doing a friendly competition to see who can deliver the cheesiest pickup line to the ladies. Every cowboy pitched in a hundred bucks, so if you’re on board, the jackpot is twelve hundred dollars.”
“Count me in.” A smirk tugs the corner of his mouth, reminding me of all the times he had a crazy idea I disapproved of, but I couldn’t say no to it.
“Excellent.” Theo turns to my sister. “Dani, is your booty a stocking? Because I’d really like to fill it.”
“You’re disgusting.” My sister maintains a straight expression. “I just want to punch you in the face and make the words stop.”
“Clearly not my audience.” Theo shrugs.
“That line is nobody’s audience.” She grimaces at him. “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”
“Open the doors!” Mayor Thomas’ ragged breaths echo through the megaphone. “Theo, get to your station! Someone get control over the damn Slater boys! They’re late, stealing props, and can’t stay in their designated area. They are as wild as they were as teenagers!”
“Gotta go.” Theo takes off, leaving the three of us chuckling.
The laughter quickly turns to an awkward silence interrupted by a chorus of squeals in the air as the women surge inside.
“Aren’t you going to give Thorn a quick rundown?” My sister has to raise her voice above the commotion at the head sign-in tables. “Tell him where to stand, how to stand. Maybe you gotta pose him a bit.” She picks up the swag bag she left on her seat before sitting.
“Yes, I do.” I force myself to look him in the eyes. “And you’re late, so we’ll have to make it fast.”
“I have all day.” He acts casual, but I can tell he doesn’t want to be here—specifically, be with me.
The feeling is mutual. At least, the sane part of my brain doesn’t want to be anywhere near Thorn. The part that knows better and endured the ache of his betrayal for years. Too bad that part didn’t pair up with the rest of me—the areas that crave him. But we were young in those days, just kids. How can I stay mad at him when I didn’t even know who I was back then?
“I’d like to be clear as a blue sky about my motives.” Thorn lays on his thick southern drawl.
The irritating parts of the woman in me yearn for him to sweep me into a closet and have his way with me. After a sleepless night of replaying him falling on top of me, I’m exhausted and horny. I can’t even imagine what the older version of Thorn Slater would be like in bed.
I manage a nod.
“When I saw you in that elevator, it ignited old feelings in me, and I got lost in the nostalgia of our youth.” His expression remains stoic. “We were still innocent back then and didn’t grasp the complexities of life. I let yesterday’s feelings sweep me away, but I won’t let that happen twice. We’re here for a good cause. Let’s commit to professionalism throughout the event for the animals.”
Those are the words I want to hear. Then why do I feel so disappointed?
“Absolutely. For the animals.” Our shared stare is charged with tension. An awkward silence follows.
Is it always going to be awkward with him? Is it a permanent fixture for us?
I snap my fingers at Dani, needing distance between Thorn and me. “Come model as one of the ladies. Quick now,” I add when she doesn’t move.
Her boots clunk on the floor emphasizing her displeasure as she drags them across the carpet.
“I’m thinking we offer each lady a pose of their choice. The first pose is a basic photo of you two standing together by the tree. Right here.”
I wait for Thorn to strut over to the tree. He takes his sweet time like we’re not on a deadline and the women aren’t beginning to branch away from the head table.
His boots scrape the floor.
His saunter demands attention.
“I’ll try your right side first, so you stand close to the tree. Maybe twist your upper torso sideways so Dani can tuck against you.”
“Gross.” Dani keeps her distance.
Thorn complies, but the angle is still off.
“Like this.” I’m left with no choice but to physically adjust his stance. My fingers glide over his warm and slick muscles as I shift his body to the desired angle. “Perfect. Can you rest this hand on your hip and wrap your free arm around Dani.”
“I can.” He places his hand on his hip and holds his arm for Dani.
“I’d rather not—”
“Now,” I hiss, but I secretly enjoy her disdain for him.
Dani scoots in close with an exaggerated groan.
“Excellent. Now, Thorn, tilt your head slightly to the left, but keep the brim of your cowboy hat low. We don’t want to lose that mysterious vibe.”
He follows the direction so well I can’t help but smile.
I step back to adjust my camera, noticing how the light bathes him in a warm golden hue. “We want that smoldering look when you’re posing with the ladies.”
His expression shifts through the lens to a sultry gaze that speeds my heart.
Professionalism.
Easy peas.
I’m already a pro at masquerading in any persona that isn’t my own—I always have been.
“Fantastic.” I glance up. “Next, let’s practice the dip.”
“Nooo,” Dani moans.