“Genius.” I glance down at my black crepe blouse and then over at Nick’s pinstriped shirt, which is the opposite of festive. “Do you have props for us?”
“Props?” he echoes, alarm transforming his handsome face. “No one said anything about props.”
Tell me you’ve never been in a photo booth without telling me you’ve never been in a photo booth.
“The whole point of a photo booth is to take silly pictures.” I nudge him with my shoulder. “That’s what makes it so fun.”
He frowns. “It’s official. You and I really do have vastly different definitions of fun.”
“Well, yeah.”
I sure as hell don’t spend my Friday nights thinking up ways to antagonize my staff.
“I’ve got your props right here.” Kylie squats to open a cardboard box at her feet. She digs through the contents and when she rises, she’s clutching a swath of white fabric and several accessories, including a pair of wings with iridescent feathers.
She turns to Nick and offers him the props. “Why don’t you give this a try?”
He approaches cautiously, as if there might be a venomous snake hiding inside the bundle, and it’s all I can do not to laugh.
“What is this?” he asks, accepting the props.
Kylie grins. “See for yourself.”
She dives back into the box as Nick rejoins me, a look of utter terror on his face.
He tucks the wings under his arm and shakes out the ball of fabric. A small golden bow and matching quiver tumble to the floor and his eyes go wide. “Oh, fuck no.”
“Oh, fuck yes.” The words are out before I can think better of them. His brows shoot up and heat floods my cheeks, but it’s too late to turn back now. “You said you were in. This is what it takes.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but nothing comes out.
Because he knows you’re right.
Satisfaction courses through my veins and I’m not sure what it says about me that I enjoy seeing the stalwart CEO thrown completely off his game.
Being forced to dress up like Cupid will do that to a person.
“Fine.” He huffs out a breath and his eyes roll skyward. “But I draw the line at the diaper.”
“Technically, it’s a sash,” Kylie offers, barely containing her laughter.
“That’s it. I’m out.” Nick turns on his heel, but before he can so much as take a step, I cut him off, planting myself toe-to-toe with him.
“Oh, no you don’t.” If he’s serious about bailing, I can’t exactly stop him. The man towers over me. “You made a commitment. I expect you to see it through.” He smirks in silent challenge, but I can’t afford to back down this time. Not with the success of the social hanging in the balance. “Now…get dressed.”
The instant the words leave my mouth, I scramble to pick up the dropped accessories and thrust them into his arms before collecting my own props.
Kylie hands me a small pile and I make quick work of the red and black polka-dot wings and matching headband. Then I step into the red tutu, pull it over my hips, and turn back to Nick.
He’s managed to wriggle into aBe My Valentinesash, but he’s struggling to get his broad shoulders into the iridescent wings.
A laugh bubbles up from my stomach, and I clap a hand over my mouth. “Need some help?”
“Pretty sure these things are made for kids,” he says, throwing up his hands.
I gesture for him to turn around and, for once, he doesn’t argue. He slips his arms through the elastic straps, and I slide the wings into position, doing my best to ignore the way the muscles in his back ripple beneath the thin cotton of his fitted dress shirt.
He slaps a golden laurel wreath atop his head and turns back to me, giving my costume a slow once-over. “What the hell are you supposed to be?”
