Chapter 13 - Holly
Holly
“Seriously, who thought this was a good idea?” I muttered under my breath as the photographer adjusted the lighting.
Grayson snorted. “Anything to get us to take our shirts off.”
The studio was warmed to a comfortable temperature, but the cold still showed on their chests. I could hide mine by hugging my blazer closer, but just knowing the guys were up there in nothing but sneakers was enough to put me on edge.
“You okay, PR?” Mason grinned from his spot in the trio, strategically holding a large foam cube over his lap.
“I’m perfect.”
I was the furthest thing from perfect, but he didn’t need to know that.
Hunter flanked him, and hadn’t said anything this whole time. His muscles coiled, and the grip on his own cube was so tight his knuckles were shot white. Every now and then, his eyes would snap in my direction.
“Never took you for a shy guy, Callahan,” Grayson said, tilting his head for the artist to touch up his makeup.
Hunter tensed, but didn’t say anything. Just kept up his unshakeable shield for the camera. I could tell he was counting the minutes until all this was over, could hear the argument he was formulating in his head.
This sneaker deal had been my doing, after all. My bright idea to get him the kind of coverage the brand could benefit from.
How was I supposed to know the campaign was to have them strip down for the shoot?
“Okay, guys, last adjustments,” the photographer said. “Hunter, scooch forward a little. I can’t see the whole sneaker. Mason, tilt your right shoulder. That’s it. Beautiful. Perfect. Hold it. And…”
The flash went off, and it started a whole new round of poses and positioning. Hunter’s jaw clenched as he tried to balance the cube over his lap, and I had to resist the urge to reach out and adjust him myself. I held back. This wasn’t mine to fix unless the photographer asked for it.
“You know,” Mason said, trying to lighten the mood, “if this goes viral, people are going to lose their minds. You, me, Grayson… just sneakers and nothing else. It’s art, right?”
I arched a brow. “I’m not in a hurry to call up the Metropolitan, but sure. Art.”
Hunter let out a low grunt, half amusement, half exasperation. “Can we have less talking and more clicking, please? I’m freezing my ass off.”
“I own you for a full hour,” the photographer said, and nudged Hunter’s cube with his elbow. “It’ll go a lot smoother if we all just work together.”
“Easy for you to say,” Hunter mumbled. “You have the luxury of pants.”
The photographer stepped back for another round of shots, happy with the new composition. The guys did well, managing to cycle between looks that were menacing, brooding, and happy as the commands were yelled at them.
All I managed while standing back and watching, was barely keeping it together as heat pooled low in my belly.
It took every ounce of restraint to keep it from showing up anywhere else.
Under Mason’s watchful eye, I knew he’d never let it slide if he caught even the slightest hint of a flush on my cheeks.
I wavered between looking away to catch my breath, and checking that Hunter was okay.
He was shifting slightly, trying to look natural while being effectively naked in front of the camera.
I could see the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his arms flexed in holding onto the cube for dear life.
“Couldn’t we have worn boxers and then you just remove it with Photoshop?” Grayson asked, nearly half an hour into the shoot.
The photographer rolled his eyes. “If you wanted tacky, you should’ve called in the paparazzi. I take my work seriously.”
“You’re going to tilt too far, Hunter,” I said, stepping closer. My voice was paper thin, brittle with self-consciousness, but I played it down. “Don’t lean so far forward. Keep the cube level with your lap. It moves when you slouch.”
“Don’t change how I’ve planted them,” the photographer called from behind his camera. “You’ll ruin the shot.”
Hunter turned his head and gave me the tiniest smirk. “Looks like you’ve met your match, Drill Sergeant.”
“Save your energy for that cube,” I replied. “It’s the only thing between you and the front page of a gossip rag. I’m good at what I do, but even I can’t save you from that.”
The photographer snapped a few more shots. “Almost there. Just a little more attitude, Hunter. Less tension. You’re having fun, not passing a kidney stone.”
The guys burst out laughing, which sent the photographer into overdrive, snapping a succession of shots to catch the casual coolness in its natural element.
Hunter’s eyes flicked toward me, almost daring. I didn’t flinch. Not today. I knew what he was doing, testing boundaries, seeing if I’d break or give him an inch. I gave him nothing. I kept my posture tight, arms folded across my chest.
“Okay, now give me some of that Surge arrogance the people know and love.” The photographer danced around them with his camera, eating up every pose as if they were feeding him honey.
Mason leaned over and whispered something to Hunter, which made him chuckle. Good. A small crack in the tension, and the shoot heated up.
“Alright,” the photographer said, “one more. And this time, Hunter, imagine you’re just a guy who happens to be very skilled at hockey, standing next to his humble teammates. No ego, no bravado. Give me you. Just you.”
I caught the tiniest flicker of surprise in his eyes. He wasn’t used to being coached like this, not in front of the guys, not this intensely. But he adjusted, just slightly, and I let myself breathe a fraction easier. Also, I couldn’t help being curious about who exactly ‘Just Hunter’ even was.
“Cube placement,” I muttered. He shifted slightly. “Relax your jaw.”
“One is enough to listen to,” he mumbled, barely moving his lips to save the shot. “Quit telling me what to do.”
The photographer clicked rapidly, and for a brief moment, everything aligned. The tension in the room eased up and the guys looked like they were having fun.
Hunter let out a low laugh, the kind that was more amused than mocking, and I noticed how different he looked outside the glare of competition. Less guarded, less tense, more… human. I’d caught a glimpse the night of the gala, but it was only a glimpse. He had a role to play then too.
Mason groaned. “I can’t feel my quads.”
“I can’t feel my dignity,” Grayson chuckled, and the others commiserated with him wholeheartedly.
I shook my head, fighting back a small smirk of my own. It was hard to maintain total distance and control when he looked like that. I had to remind myself it was my job, standing here watching him this closely. My responsibility. Nothing more.
The shoot went on, and I couldn’t stop noticing the details.
The way his hair had mussed slightly from constant primping between sets, the subtle shift in posture when he thought no one was watching, the way his focus sharpened even under the pretense of casualness.
There was more to him than the public persona, more than the bluster and banter.
And today, I saw more of that than ever. Literally.
“Seriously, Mason, did you just move his cube with your knee?” I asked, trying to sound professional but flailing inwardly.
“Accident,” Mason said with a grin that clearly meant the opposite. “Artistic liberty.”
Hunter’s eyes flicked to me, that little edge of amusement in his gaze, and I immediately felt my cheeks warm. My tablet was the only saving grace, giving me something to stare at that wasn’t over six feet tall and ripped like a god from another realm.
Grayson snorted during one of their resets. “Holly, you’re sweating. Need us to turn down the heat?”
“I’m fine.”
Hunter’s smirk grew, and he studied me closely. “Sure you are.”
I tried to regain control, and squared my shoulders. “You guys should be focusing on the shoot. Not me.”
“Perks of the job, huh?” Mason winked. “Surrounded by naked hockey players and you get to call it a day at the office.”
“Someone’s got to do it,” I shot back with a smirk that was in no way related to how I actually felt.
Grayson risked letting go of his cube with one hand to wave me over. “It’s only fair you strip down and join. For solidarity’s sake.”
They sniggered, but Hunter remained stone-faced. “Could you guys shut up so we can get this over with?”
He shifted slightly and my stomach flipped when the small movement revealed more than it was supposed to. I just happened to be standing at the right angle to catch an eyeful of his– Of everything.
“Uh, Hunter, you’re flashing me,” the photographer said, cool and calm. Like this happened all the time.
The guys lost it as Hunter quickly fixed his cube, a pink flush creeping all the way up his neck. I couldn’t look away in time, mostly because my eyes were glued to his crotch, and when his gaze snapped to mine, I could’ve sworn I spotted the hint of a challenge glinting there.
A challenge to what, I wasn’t sure. Nothing about his expression gave anything else away, and even less when he pulled the cube back into place.
“Oh, shit.” Mason was beside himself. “Callahan, I think you broke PR.”
“Stop calling her that,” he snapped, then turned to me with a crooked smile. “You okay?”
“I’m fine, I just… I, uh…”
I took a step toward the back of the studio, pretending to check the lighting while desperately trying to stop my pulse from racing. My face was hot, my thoughts scrambled.
He chuckled under his breath, loud enough that I heard it. I glanced back, and my pulse jumped again. The other guys were laughing too, clearly enjoying the show, but it wasn’t their laughter that had me distracted—it was him. Just him.
“Don’t sweat it, Holly.” Grayson emphasized my name for Hunter’s sake, I guess. “We’ll be dressed soon enough and you can get your composure back.”
I shot them a withering look but my knees felt just a touch weak. Hunter noticed it too, because there was no hiding the smirk on his face.
The photographer called for one final pose, and I took my chance.
“Gotta make a call,” I murmured to no one in particular, and hurried to the door without looking back.
Bob’s stupid accusations swirled in my head as I broke into the cool rush of air outside. I was adamant that this thing was nothing but professional, same as I always was with every other one of my clients.
But I had gone from power suit to blushing maiden so fast, I wasn’t sure how true that statement was.