Page 28 of Dirty Like Dylan

He was wondering if I was as hard as he was.

I totally was, but that was way the fuck beside the point.

Just because this was happening didn’t mean I had to be involved.

No idea what I was gonna do to stop it either. I didn’t exactly possess Susanna’s assets, and if those weren’t doing shit-all to diffuse the situation, I was fresh out of ideas. The blood rushing to my cock wasn’t helping.

Wasn’t exactly my fault, though, that Dylan getting turned on turned me on. I could no more help that than he was gonna be able to help falling for this girl, if she stuck around.

No way was I losing my wingman over some hippie chick with a perky little face and a bad attitude, though.

No way was he falling in love with this girl… and leaving me in the dust by the roadside.

Fuck that.

“Have you ever done any real estate photography?”

Wait.

What?

I shot him a look across the island, but he ignored me. I attempted to kick his foot, but he slid off his seat and reached to pour Amber another glass of wine. They were already hitting the bottom of the bottle.

“Um…” Amber looked stricken. Perhaps recalling Susanna and wondering if “real estate photography” included working “Honey” into the deal. She swallowed her mouthful of potato and washed it down with wine. “No.”

“But you shoot people in their environment,” Dylan said. “That must mean inside their homes sometimes.”

“Sure…” she said.

“So you could take photos of my house.”

What the fuck? What the hell did he need professional photos of his house for?

Short answer: he didn’t. He just wanted to keep this girl around.

Badly.

“Well. Yes. I guess so. I mean…” She glanced around. “I have a tripod, and a wide lens. That’s probably all I’d need…” She trailed off.

“Cool. It should take a few days, right? Then after that, we can see.”

A few days?

And see what?

“You can stay at Ash’s house. He’s not using it anyway.” He looked at me, deadpan. “Right?”

I drank my beer and said nothing. What could I say? The more I protested, the more he was gonna think I wanted her.

I made a noncommittal grunt and kept eating.

Amber looked from me to Dylan, clearly uncertain.

“Well. Um. How much does this gig pay?”

“I don’t know. What’s your day rate?”

“Well, I—”