Camera Shy (Lessons in Love, #1)(18)

“Nope. I brought everything of mine in.”

“Okay,” she says again, blowing out a quick breath. Spinning on her heel, she hustles toward the front door. “Thank you, Aves,” she calls without turning around.

“Oh wait, only eighty-seven and up for the Jeep,” I call after her. “Don’t put cheap gas in—”

Bang.

The front door slams and she’s out of earshot.





Thirteen days.

Thirteen days is how long it takes for my self-restraint to crumble and for me to go to Edge Fitness’s website and find Maura Montoya. Suspicions confirmed—she’s a total fucking knockout. This woman outshines even Palmer, and that’s really hard to do. Her body is flawless. She’s muscular, yet with feminine curves. Her stomach is so flat that if she lay down, you could set a wine glass on it without worrying it’d spill. Her shoulder-length hair is a richer shade of brown than mine and she’s at least three shades tanner than me. She looks sun-kissed, like she’s not afraid to show off her body on the beach. But enough rambling…

A simpler way to sum up Maura is that she is quite literally my polar opposite.

I dove head first into the rabbit hole. Within twenty minutes, I found Maura’s Facebook page, Instagram profile, and watched several of her videos on TikTok about proper form when deadlifting. I really want to hate her, but what did she do wrong besides exist?

It’s been nearly two weeks…

I wonder if Mason has asked her out yet.

It’d be a little easier if she had resting bitch face, but not only is she stunning, she’s also charming. I bet her client list is booked solid. I teach the business owners, Dex included, about this effect. Charisma. When you market a great personality, you could sell salt to a slug with ease. People want personable, relatable, and authentic. Those are the three magic ingredients to brand loyalty.

As if his ears are burning, an incoming phone call from Mason halts my social media stalking. I could send him to voicemail, but seeing as I’ve already been internet stalking his potential new girlfriend, I’m embracing my current masochist mentality.

“What?” I answer in the flattest monotone I can muster.

“You answered,” Mason says, sounding surprised.

“You called,” I snap.

He huffs through the phone, encouraging my frustration. “Avery, can we please be civil? We have a business together. Remember when people told us not to start a fifty-fifty LLC together? Remember how we told them we worked really well together and we would never let our relationship interfere with what we created?”

Remember when I thought you loved me and we were going to be together forever?

But he’s right.

We do work well together, and the only relationship I had that rivaled mine and Mason’s was my relationship with work. I’ll be damned if I lose both this year.

My chest rises high, then falls. Is this allowed? Can we just be civil? “What’s going on, Mason?”

“Maynard Realty referred us for a major contract. Major. I didn’t even want to entertain the idea without talking to you first.”

Maynard Commercial Realty is our biggest client, not to mention the best-paying. But the research is devastatingly boring. Real estate is a lot of basic design and antiquated marketing strategies. It’s simple color schemes, basic fonts, polished, professional, pristine, and absolutely no creativity. I’m not sure if I want to take on their referral. It’s mind-numbing work.

“What kind of contract? And more importantly, with whom?”

He pauses for seemingly dramatic effect. I’m not amused. I put my phone on speaker and place it face up on Dex’s coffee table. I nestle backward into the oversized navy sectional and watch Cherry dart around. The tank’s dimmers are on an automatic schedule, so she’s swimming in what she probably assumes is moonlight.

“Legacy Resorts.”

My mouth falls open. “As in Sandals’s biggest competitor?”

“That’s the one.”

I’m quite familiar with Legacy Resorts. I helped my dad and his new wife plan an anniversary trip with Legacy once. He’s computer illiterate and nearly paid an upcharge of thirty percent to book through a travel agent. I had to swoop in and save him from getting swindled. I spent quite a bit of time on that website. Their branding is spectacular.

“What do they need help with?”

“From what I understand so far, they need help relaunching some of their larger properties as kid friendly. Right now, they are doing quite well in the adult-only vacation space, but to stay competitive, they’re learning they have to be family-friendly, meaning—”

“They are going up against companies like Disney.”

“And if Disney doesn’t hand their ass to them, you’ve got Airbnb, VRBO, direct rentals—”

“All the more budget-friendly options that are making fancy all-inclusives obsolete for the middle class.” I nod along as I keep my eyes on Cherry, who seems to be slowing down.

“Exactly.” Mason clears his throat. “It’s more than just consulting. They want long-term strategists. They’re looking for a five-year commitment.”

“Five years?” My stomach twists. Normally, our contracts are on a six-month basis. We’re consultants. We do the research, develop a strategy, help implement the strategy, and then hand over the baton. Never did we plan to work with a specific client for five years. Plus, this isn’t just a five-year commitment to a client. It’s a five-year commitment to Mason. I haven’t even thought that far ahead…how in the hell can we keep working together in our current situation?