it was to put me at ease rather than herself. Fuck.
I cleared my throat and looked away to keep from being caught in her trance. The door leading to the alley opened, and fucking Houston stepped through. He didn’t notice me watching him because he was already locked on to Braxton, whose back was to him. I watched as his attention dropped to her ass, his lips moved to form a swear I couldn’t hear, and then he turned and stormed right back out the door.
Loren appeared next, but, of course, he didn’t leave like Houston. He sauntered over until he stood in front of her, and Braxton’s guard immediately rose. For some reason, it filled me with glee, knowing she was more comfortable with me. I could see why as Loren’s dark eyes ran over her, checking her out and offering no apologies for it.
“Looking good, baby fawn.”
“Leave her alone,” I immediately barked before I could stop myself or Braxton could speak for herself. What the hell was I doing?
Loren didn’t even acknowledge me. Reaching out, he fingered the velvet choker around her neck. “Looking damn good.”
“Thanks.”
She was calm—too calm, in my opinion. I wasn’t sure I bought it, but it wasn’t my problem.
Sighing, I stepped away. Braxton had already proved more than once that she could handle herself. She wouldn’t have lasted this long otherwise, and I didn’t need more reason to fight with my best friends. Besides, Braxton had no use for a knight with dented armor. We had two months until the tour, and I didn’t know how, but I’d find a way to shake Braxton from my thoughts.
Houston returned just as Ingrid, the photographer, was ready to start shooting. She directed Braxton to lie on a red chaise that was out of place in the bar despite having seen better days. With the remaining space left, Houston was placed at the end by Braxton’s booted feet. He immediately slouched his frame, resting his arm along the swooped back and getting comfortable against the padded scroll arm. I caught his gaze roving all over Braxton while she was preoccupied adjusting her position to suit Ingrid.
Once her back was arched and her hands braced on the cushion behind her, Loren was directed to stand by Braxton’s head. Ingrid wanted the cocky charm he hardly ever needed a reason to display, so with his thumb touching his lip, he gave her that infamous Loren James grin.
Without direction, having done this dance too many times before, I centered myself behind the chaise, crossing my arms, and letting my hair fall forward.
Smiling in satisfaction, Ingrid immediately returned to her camera and proceeded to take what seemed like a million shots. I sighed on the inside, knowing this was only the first pose. After switching positions on and around the chaise countless times, the last one with Braxton lying on her stomach alone with the three of us standing together behind her, we moved to take shots by the bar.
“Doing okay?” I asked Braxton as we waited for Ingrid and her team to adjust the lighting and switch cameras. It was all I could do not to touch her exposed thigh resting near my forearm as she sat on the bar. That fucking dress was so short that I’d caught more than one glimpse of the matching panties she wore underneath. I was surprised the stylist had even bothered.
“I’m not sure,” she muttered before smiling down at me. “It’s still hard to believe this is really happening.”
“Seriously?” Loren remarked with a snort. “A little late to get star-struck, don’t you think?” The clinking of glass, followed by the sound of liquid pouring, prompted me to turn my head. I stood up straight when I realized Loren was pouring a shot. The owner stood by the jukebox watching but didn’t say a word.
“What the fuck, Lo?”
“Relax,” he snapped back before I could say more. “It’s not for me.” Holding out the shot glass filled to the brim with vodka, he patiently waited, silently daring Braxton to accept it.
Her brow rose as she studied the drink. “Is this appropriate? We’re working.”
“Don’t know, don’t care. Drink up.”
I watched her chew her lip, utterly unaware of the torture she wrought before finally snatching the drink from Loren and tossing it back.
“You seem to have the most vices,” she grumbled when Loren immediately poured her another. This time she didn’t hesitate.
“It just means I’m the most fun, baby.” Just as he was getting ready to pour