Briggs (Carolina Reapers 7)

“Wonderful,” she said. “I saw your most recent ad for your new men’s line at Lusso, and I have to say it was striking.”

Striking? Hell yes, it was.

“Thank you,” I said instead of doing backflips.

“We’re running a feature in our next issue. A two-page center spread with a focus on newly formed high fashion lines.”

“That sounds fantastic,” I said.

“I’m glad you think so,” she said. “We were wondering if you and your model would be available for a shoot? We’d like to devote the feature to Lusso, with a focus on your upcoming line. I’ve got a boilerplate contract I’m sending over now for you to look over. The one stipulation is that we want the model from your previous ad.”

I couldn’t stop the smile shaping my lips. “Absolutely,” I said. “Cormac Briggs actually plays for the Carolina Reapers, so we’d have to work something out with his game schedule.”

“Does he really?” she asked. “I swore he was a model with the way you shot him.”

“It’s a combination of the clothes and the man,” I said.

“Hmm. We’re hoping to shoot this soon. I truly hope we can find a slot in his game schedule.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said. “We’d love to pair with your magazine. I’ll look over the contract and speak with Mr. Briggs and get back to you as soon as I know the schedule.”

“Perfect,” she said. “Looking forward to working with you.”

“You as well,” I said, then hung up the phone.

And immediately squealed. Grace joined in as I came around my desk, and we had a little jump-squeal fest right there.

“Did you just book a shoot with Silhouette?!” she asked while we jumped.

“I think so! I just have to get Cormac on board…” I stopped jumping, reality crashing into me hard and cold.

“What is it?” Grace asked, letting go of my hands and sinking back into her chair.

I dropped into the one next to her, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Cormac and I haven’t spoken since my brother walked in on us.” I’d told Grace all about Valentine’s Day that night. “And with his tight game schedule, I have no idea how we’ll work it in.”

“So what?” she argued. “You have to work it in. It’s freaking Silhouette. A feature in that magazine will put your new line on the map.”

“I know,” I said, totally deflated.

“You could call him,” Grace offered.

I snorted. “You didn’t see the look on his face when Cross walked in.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“How many times will I keep telling myself that?”

She flashed me a pitying look. “Well, it wasn’t, dammit,” she said, and I laughed at the outrage in her tone. “And if Cormac would’ve stuck around for five seconds, he would’ve seen how much Cross has grown.”

I nodded. “But he didn’t. He doesn’t. Every time we get close, he bolts.”

Grace huffed. “It makes zero sense,” she said. “You guys have this crazy intense chemistry. You’re both grown adults. Why not just dive in and see where it takes you?”

“He still sees me as a spoiled rich girl who gets whatever she wants.”

“Well, then he’s an idiot.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “He isn’t. He’s just…holding on to the past.”

“He needs to let that shit go. You’ve apologized. You’ve shown him who you are. And you guys legit end up making out every other time you’re together. It’s time to bang or bounce.”

I laughed so hard my sides hurt. “Bang or bounce?” I snorted. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious!” She gaped at me. “Bristol, I love you. There are only so many times you can get shot down before you retreat into yourself, and we don’t need that happening right now. Not when you’re on the cusp of knocking your line out of the park. This is everything you’ve worked for!”

“I know,” I said, my stomach in knots. I needed to get Cormac on board with this shoot, but I was terrified to call him after what had happened. “But I don’t think banging is going to help us.” I laughed over her term.

“It will. Get each other out of your systems. Have sex once, then the need is satisfied, and you two can just work without falling all over yourselves for each other.”

I pursed my lips. Her logic wasn’t totally skewed.

“You really think that would work?” I asked.

She raised her hands before dropping them on the chair’s armrests. “It either will or it won’t,” she said, leaning forward. “But, Bristol? You put yourself out there one time. For real. Nothing held back. If he takes you up on it? Great. If not? Fuck him. Do the work, and let him go. Because I hate seeing you struggle like this. I hate seeing you with this need to prove yourself to him…to anyone. You’re kind and smart and have the biggest heart. He’ll either see that, recognize it, or he’s not worth it.”