Picture Perfect Love: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Read online

  A minute later, Russ appears at the door.

  He’s a good foot shorter than me and much leaner. We fought at different weight classes. His head is completely shaved, and tattoos creep up his neck and down over his hands. Looking at him, a person would be forgiven for thinking he’s nothing but a bruiser, but truthfully he’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever known.

  He grins and swaggers over, reaching down and punching me in the arm. “It’s good to see you, man. That for me?” He nods at the beer.

  I smirk. “Who else?”

  We sit down and look over the city, not feeling the need for a massive song and dance about our reunion.

  We’ve been friends too long for that. We could go several years without seeing each other and still slip seamlessly back into our back-and-forth.

  “So what you been doing, just sitting out here dreaming of the woman you left back in Thailand?”

  I sip my beer, shaking my head. “Yeah, right. Our met eyes across a crowded ballroom and we fell head over heels in love. Give me a break.”

  Russ chuckles. “You know, you’re one grim motherfucker sometimes. I got married. I settled down. Are you telling me it was a mistake?”

  “Of course not. You have a wonderful family. I see the way you look at your wife. I’ve never felt that. I’d never say it to Natalie, of course, but I didn’t even feel that about her mother.”

  “Like I said,” Russ says, placing his beer bottle down. “Grim. I thought it was bad enough you filled your house with a bunch of medieval weapons, but you’re starting to depress me.”

  He laughs to take some of the edge off. Russ is the only person I can speak like this with, without worrying if we’re going to offend each other. It’s a product of the world we came up in, fighting, bleeding, struggling to make something of ourselves.

  “That’s why I’ve bought you a little gift.”

  I groan, but I’m unable to stop the corners of my lips from twitching. “Do I even want to know?”

  He flashes his teeth as he reaches into his pocket. “Don’t be a pessimist. You might like it.”

  He brings his hand out, holding an envelope, and then slides the envelope across the table.

  “What’s this?” I ask.

  “You’d say we’re good friends, right?”

  I look closely at him. He’s got that cheeky smile on his face I remember from when we were much younger men when all we cared about was training and turning our bodies into the most dangerous weapons they could possibly be…

  But always with a smile, for Russ, always with a lightheartedness I could never dream of.

  “Yes. Obviously.”

  “So when you open that envelope and see what it is, I want you to remember I’m asking you to do this… as your best friend. Alright?”

  “So what you’re saying is, it’s going to be something I don’t want to do, but you’re going to use our friendship to emotionally blackmail me into doing it.”

  He grins widely, flashing his teeth, brimming with pride. “Yeah, pretty much. You’ve hit the nail on the head.”

  I chuckle grimly. “Jackass.”

  I open the envelope and take out a voucher.

  Mystery Couples Photography Session, the leaflet reads, and it’s covered in hearts and small photographs of people staring adoringly at each other, caught between smiles and laughter.

  “Forget blind dating,” I read, shaking my head in disbelief. “This is so much more. Unleash your inner spontaneity and maybe meet the love of your life in the process… Come on, what do you have to lose?”

  I place the voucher down, glancing at Russ to see if this is a joke. But he’s looking at me with something like seriousness in his eyes.

  “I guess you didn’t buy this as a joke.”

  “Maybe a little bit,” he says. “I wanted to see your face. But then I spoke to Lacey and she commented on how you must get so lonely sometimes. I mean, shit, Kaleb, I’ve never seen you with a woman since Jenny walked out.”

  I shrug. “I just told you. I didn’t feel much for Jenny. I’m happy we met because it gave me Natalie and I love her more than anything. But we never connected. There wasn’t a spark. There wasn’t anything real.”

  “Remember that time we got shitfaced on the boat?”

  I groan, looking out over the city. I told Russ once about how certain I was I’d know the woman of my dreams the moment I laid eyes on her… while we were on a party boat, drunk out of our minds, standing at the railing and looking down at the water.

  “I’ll know,” I told him, voice slurred in a way that makes me cringe now. We were both so young back then. “The second I see her, my whole world will change.”

  “Well?” he prompts now.

  “Of course I remember,” I say. “But that was over a decade ago, man. I think it’s time I accepted that I'm never going to find this mystery woman. She probably never existed and even if she did, what are the chances?”

  He grins as he takes another swig from his bottle.

  “That’s what always confused me about you, Kaleb. You’re one tough motherfucker. You used to destroy people in the cage. Your nickname was Animal, man. You were cold. People called you emotionless. But this side of you… it’s like you’re some hopeless romantic.”

  His words move through me with an annoying resemblance of the truth. I wish I could say he was wrong, but there’s no way I could without him knowing I’m lying.

  “Yeah, well. What’s your point?”

  He prods the voucher against the table. “This is my point. It’s exactly the sort of stuff hopeless romantics go in for. So maybe you go there, try your luck, and see what happens. The worst case scenario is you don’t like it and leave.”

  I pick up the voucher again, studying the faces of the couples, my gaze moving over the happiness in their eyes.

  And then I remember the way my father gazed at me as he stumbled to the top of the staircase, as though he wanted me to help him, as though he wanted me to charge up there and take on the attackers that ultimately killed him.

  But there was red blood gushing from his throat and his voice was strangled as he croaked down at me, “Run, run, run…”

  I bite down, staring at Russ. “If you were anybody else, I’d throw you off that damn balcony.”

  “But I’m not anybody else.”

  “I’d never expect this sort of sappy shit from you.”

  “Right back at you, Kaleb. Right. Back. At you.”

  I sigh and place the voucher down. “Something tells me you’re not going to quit until I say yes.”

  “You might be right about that.”

  “So if I say yes, we can drink our beers in peace?”

  He nods. “I think that’s fair.”

  “Fine, then yes, I’ll go to the stupid photography thing. But I want you to know this is the weirdest thing you’ve ever done.”

  “Fair enough. But weird or not, if it means meeting this mystical woman you’ve brought up over the years, I’ll consider it a job well done.”

  I take a long pull of my beer, letting my gaze move over the horizon, as though I’m going to find her glittering in the late-day sunlight.

  I want to tell Russ this is a complete waste of time.

  But the fact is he might be right.

  Maybe I’ll finally find her, the woman I’ll claim, the woman who will change everything.

  I doubt it, but I’ve already told him I’ll go.

  And a man is nothing if he doesn’t keep his word.

  So I’m fucked.

  I’ll just have to get through it the best I can.

  Chapter Three

  Kelly

  I walk down the hallway toward the photography studio, my belly swirling with nerves and my instincts screaming at me to turn back and get the heck out of here as quickly as I can.

  All during the drive over I kept glancing at the exits on the freeway, debating turning back at every single one, but I promised Natalie, and – apart from l
usting after her dad – I pride myself on being a good friend.

  I walk up to the reception desk, where a stunningly beautiful blonde sits, the sort of woman who makes me wonder if we’re even the same freaking species.

  “Hello,” she says, smiling kindly up at me.

  I often have to remind myself that not all pretty girls are like the mean ones I encountered in high school.

  “Hello. I’m here for a photoshoot. I have this.”

  I hand over my voucher, which is a plain piece of paper with a QR code printed on it.

  The woman’s smile grows wider. “I have a short video to show you. This is one of our mystery coupons, you see.”

  “Mystery…”

  The woman turns her monitor and hits her space bar.

  Natalie’s face fills the screen, a playful grin on her face.

  “Hey, Kelly. So I may have done something a little naughty. This place isn’t just any photography studio. They specialize in blind-date photoshoots. So pretty soon you’ll be introduced to your eligible bachelor…”

  I turn and glance at the exit, wondering if I can sprint away without making a scene. The waiting room is empty, and I don’t think the receptionist is going to leap over the desk to try and stop me.

  “Right now, you’re probably thinking about getting the heck out of there.”

  I giggle.

  She can always read my mind, except when it comes to her dad.

  “But I really, really want you to try this, Kelly. I think it would be great for you. I’m sorry for tricking you, but we both know you never would’ve agreed if I’d told you the whole truth. It’s a bit of fun. That’s all. Please stay. Okay. That’s it. I love you, sister-I-never-had.”

  The receptionist turns her screen back around and then smiles up at me. “So would you like to continue? We offer full refunds for our mystery service users, so there’s no pressure. What I will say is your friend is right. Most people come away very glad they’ve done it, even if they were nervous … maybe even especially when they were nervous. But the choice is yours.”

  I laugh again, shaking my head. “She told me there were no refunds. It was the only way she got me to come down here.”

  The woman smiles. “So what would you like to do?”

  I glance around the empty waiting room. The walls are covered in professional photographs of smiling couples, all of them looking as though they’ve been married for years, as though their love for each other is unquestionable.

  “Are all these of mystery couples?” I ask, gesturing at the photographs.

  “They sure are.”

  “But you chose the best ones.” My cheeks begin to flame at the forwardness of my remark, but I can’t help it. It’s true. It must be true. “You wouldn’t have put the disasters up here, would you? And you must have had them, couples who spent the whole session feeling like the ground was going to swallow them up, people who wouldn’t smile even a little bit.”

  The woman nods, her lips pressed flat. It’s like she can read the anxiety coursing through me. I think I detect empathy glimmering in her eyes but it’s difficult to tell.

  “I won’t lie. Yes, we picked the best photographs to hang on the walls. But if you don’t try, you won’t know. That’s all I can say. The choice is ultimately yours.”

  My belly swirls with nerves as I glance at the exit again.

  I could run like I’ve done so many times in my life.

  Or I can face this, get through it even if it’s awkward and I won’t be able to gleam like so many of the women in those photos.

  “Okay.” I let out a breath. “I’ll give it a go. What do I do?”

  The receptionist stands up with a broad smile on her face. “Excellent. I don’t think you’ll regret it. If you follow me, I’ll take you to the studio and introduce you to the photographer. You’ll be able to have some refreshments if you like, while you wait for your partner.”

  More swirling anxiety moves around my belly at the word partner, as I follow her down the hallway – past more smiling photographs – and to a door at the end of it. “Who is he? Do you know anything about him?”

  She opens the door for me, tapping her nose with an even bigger smile, something I would’ve thought was impossible before she did it. Her smile seems to latch onto me, making me want to return it even if part of me wants to scream.

  “That would ruin the surprise. It’s against our rules.”

  “Okay, great,” I mutter dully, walking into the studio.

  It’s a large room with a photography section set up on one end – draping white material, a camera on a tripod – with an area off to the side where the costumes and props are stored. There are all kinds there, flapper and gangster and Viking and all sorts of silly things.

  The photographer sits on the opposite side of the room, near the refreshment table.

  She rises when I enter, a tall lean woman with short-cut bleach blonde hair and a tattoo of a butterfly on her neck. “You must be Kelly.”

  I nod, walking over to her. “And you must be my photographer.”

  She smiles. “Good guess. I’m Janie. I want you to know you’re in safe hands. I’ve done dozens of these.”

  “And…”

  She narrows her eyes when I trail off, staring with the same perceptiveness as the receptionist. Or maybe they don’t need to be perceptive. Maybe it’s blazingly obvious how nervous I am and a rock would be able to tell.

  “What is it?”

  “I wanted to ask,” I say, licking my lips. They’re so freaking dry, in stark contrast to the rest of me, which is sweaty and nerve-sticky. “Have any of these ever crashed and burned?”

  She frowns for a moment and then lets out a sigh.

  “I’m not really supposed to talk about that. But I can see how nervous you are, and I don’t want to lie to you. Yes, they have. A few have gone very poorly.”

  “Thank you.” I feel a weight lifting off my chest. “Maybe it’s a little crazy, but I prefer that. At least then there’s no pressure to be perfect. Does that make any sense to you?”

  “Of course it does,” Janie says. “I’ve actually asked the management to put up photos from some of the less idyllic sessions. And that’s why I told you the truth when you asked me. Because, like you said, thinking you have to live up to a perfect ideal puts you under a lot of pressure. But please try not to worry. It’s just—”

  “A bit of fun. I know.” I unclench my fists, which I didn’t even realize I was clenching until just now. “I’m going to try and relax. Maybe I could have a glass of water?”

  “Of course.”

  Janie turns to the table and grabs a paper cup, filling me a glass from the cooler and handing it over. I take it and nod thanks, and then drain it quickly.

  “Another?” Janie asks.

  “I’m fine. I’ll probably pee myself if…”

  I trail off, my hands darting up to my mouth in mortification.

  What the heck has got into me today?

  It’s like I’ve got no filter.

  “Don’t worry. I once pissed in my girlfriend’s bed when I was drunk. It’s no biggie.”

  I giggle through my hands, glad for the release, glad not to have to dwell on how awkward I’m probably being.

  “Do you know anything about the man I’m meeting today?”

  Janie laughs and nods. “Yes, I do. I know his name. But I’m not going to tell you. That would ruin the fun. That’s one part of this process I wholeheartedly agree with.”

  I want to ask her, to beg her to tell me something about him. But when it comes down to it, I know it probably wouldn’t make much difference anyway.

  Even if I knew his name – even if I saw his photograph – it wouldn’t change how today is going to go.

  “If you don’t mind,” I say. “I’m going to take a look at a few work emails while we wait.”

  “Oh, what do you do for work?”

  “I’m a freelance illustrator. Well, I’m a cleaner and I d
o some freelance illustrating on the side. I’m hoping to make it my full-time career one day.”

  “Hence the emails. I get ya. Sure. Go ahead. I need to do some tinkering anyway.”

  I walk over to the seat in the corner, next to the refreshments table, wishing I’d delayed getting here.

  But I’ve always been the sort of person to arrive at everything early, dreading the idea of coming in late with dozens of eyes on me. Even if this would only be two pairs of eyes on me, the thought of it still makes my skin tingle with anxiety.

  I take out my phone and check my freelancing account.

  I’m working with an author who’s self-publishing a children’s book, and their specifications for the main character’s appearance keep changing. We’ve been going back and forth for a week now, but they can’t settle on a solid outline.

  I get into a conversation with him for a few minutes, discussing the waviness of the character’s hair. He thinks it should be extremely wavy, windswept, but every time I send him a windswept look he says it’s too wavy.

  But even if I’d normally find this annoying, it’s far better than staring at the door and wondering who’s going to come in here.

  Soon the delay is over.

  I hear footsteps outside the door and the receptionist’s voice.

  “Just this way, sir.”

  “Sure.”

  My mouth falls open when I hear his deep gruff voice, the same voice I’ve heard hundreds of times in MMA interviews, in his home when I was a teenager before he went to Thailand. It’s the voice I’ve dreamed about ever since I was a kid with a crush… and even if I’m a woman now, I’ve still got that crush.

  It never went away.

  Surely I must be wrong.

  The door opens and I see I’m right.

  My blood goes hot. My heart thumps.

  Kaleb Keller, my best friend’s dad, walks into the room.

  I expect his eyes to widen when he spots me. I expect him to look surprised, as he stands there in a white dress shirt and slacks, his eyes are even brighter and more intense than I remember them, his body so huge and hard-looking it makes me want to leap across the room and grip onto his bulging muscles.