Dirty Pucker (Denver Bashers #2)

17. Del

Chapter 17

Del

I stand in the middle of a studio space, clad in just a robe and my sneakers.

I’d laugh if I weren’t so nervous. I probably look like a complete dumbass wearing nothing but a robe and shoes.

But I have no idea what you’re supposed to wear to a nude photoshoot. I’ve never done one before.

I watch as the photographer sets up his camera while giving instructions to his assistant, who’s sitting behind a computer setup. There’s a young college-aged guy messing with what looks like lighting equipment. And that’s it.

When I first arrived at the photoshoot, I met the photographer Luc Jean, who assured me this was a closed set due to the nudity involved. Only essential personnel would be allowed on set while he photographed me.

I was relieved to hear that. The fewer people gawking at my naked junk, the better.

“Hey, Richards.”

I turn around and see Sam McKesson walking over to me. He’s wearing a robe and sneakers too, and it instantly makes me feel like less of a weirdo.

He chuckles as he looks at my robe and shoes. “Nice outfit.”

“Fuck if I know what you’re supposed to wear to a nude photoshoot.”

“Same. But great minds think alike, clearly.”

“When we were playing our asses off in college, hoping to get drafted in the pros, did you ever think we’d end up doing naked photoshoots?”

Sam grins. “Nope. But hey, a paycheck is a paycheck, right?”

When my agent told me what I’d be paid for this photoshoot, I didn’t believe him at first. It was a ridiculous amount of money.

“You gonna blow today’s earnings at the slots?” I joke.

Sam chuckles. He runs a hand through his wavy blond hair, but then the hairstylist runs over and scolds him.

The tiny dark-haired woman with a blunt haircut frowns as she restyles his thick hair, muttering in what sounds like French. In English, she warns him not to touch it again.

Sam grimaces. “Sorry,” he says as she walks off. When she’s out of sight, he laughs. “Could you imagine doing this for a living? People yelling at you for messing with your hair or touching your face?”

“I’d rather take a puck to my balls.”

He nods in agreement. “So. Are you and Theo besties yet?” he jokes.

“Not even close. He hasn’t kicked my ass yet though, so I’ll count that as a win.”

Sam and I met playing on the same team in college and have been good friends ever since. It’s kind of wild honestly, given how different we are on the ice. I’m a shit-stirrer, throwing down over the smallest stuff, willing to say the meanest shit to get under my opponent’s skin, and willing to fight anyone over anything.

Sam’s the opposite. He’s a fierce defenseman, but he hardly ever fights. When we played together, I heard guys say some cruel shit to him, and I can count on both hands the number of times he took the bait and fought them. He doesn’t yell at the refs or linesmen when they make a bad call. He’s so cool and calm for a hockey player, it’s almost funny.

“I noticed you’ve been on your best behavior ever since you started playing for Denver,” Sam says. “Dirty Del isn’t fighting so dirty anymore.”

“Yeah, well, being a dirty player doesn’t fly with Porter. He made it clear that he wasn’t going to tolerate my usual antics on the ice. So I’ve been trying to change. Especially since I want to stay in Denver long-term.”

Sam’s brow furrows in concern. I told him way back in college about all the shit with my dad. He knows about the panicked phone call I got from my mom a couple of months ago that prompted me to pursue a trade with the Bashers. He knows how much it means to me to stay in Denver so I can be close to my mom and sister.

“I get it, man. Is your mom doing okay?”

“Yeah, she’s good. I can tell she feels a lot better now that I’m living in the same city.”

“That’s good.” He clears his throat. “How’s Dakota doing?”

“Busy with school. My mom told me that she’s dating some guy.” I roll my eyes and tug at the sleeve of my robe. “Bet you a thousand bucks he’s a loser.”

Sam’s expression is unreadable. He blinks, then frowns. “Really? Have they been going out long?”

I shrug. “I don’t think so. It sounds new. I just wish my sister had better taste in the guys she dates.”

Sam opens his mouth to speak, but I keep talking.

“I know, I know. She’s twenty-four. An adult. She can make her own decisions. But she’s my little sister, you know? She deserves better than the deadbeats she normally dates.”

Sam’s frown deepens. “Yeah, no, I get it. She’s a catch for sure. She deserves a good guy.”

Just then, I see Ingrid walking over to the snack table and grabbing a cup of fruit. She turns to me, holds it up, and mouths, “Want one?” I mouth, “No, thanks.” She smiles and digs into her fruit cup. The corner of my mouth hooks up as I watch her.

She’s been with me this whole morning, coordinating with the photoshoot staff and making sure I have what I need. She also told me that she worked with Luc Jean on an influencer photoshoot a couple of years ago, and she’s been prepping me on what it’s like to work with him.

“Speaking of dating, what’s with you and Ingrid?” Sam asks with a smile.

I clear my throat. “Nothing. We’re just friends.”

“Oh yeah?”

“She’s helping me out with my social media.”

“I’ve noticed. Your Instagram is blowing up. That video of you with the kittens was precious,” he jokes. I shove him.

“Seriously though, Ingrid’s a miracle worker, making everyone think you’re this big softie.”

I shake my head at all of Sam’s ribbing.

“You used to go viral on social media for getting into nasty fights,” he says. “Now you’re going viral for playing with kittens. And saying that you’re into blondes.”

I roll my eyes at Sam’s teasing. “Jesus, not you too.”

“Come on, dude. It’s obvious how much you like her. It was obvious in a TikTok video where she wasn’t even on screen. And it’s obvious as hell from the way you’re looking at her right now.”

Heat creeps up my neck as I tear my gaze from Ingrid, who’s chatting and laughing with Luc Jean.

“Nothing can happen between us,” I say. “She works for the team. How bad would that look for me, the new guy, to try and get with her? Especially when I’m trying to sweeten up my image. People are gonna think I’m a sleazebag for dating the social media girl.”

“If she’s into you too, then who cares?” Sam says.

“Her cousin.” I exhale. “You know he fucking hates me. And if I want to stay on the Bashers long-term, I shouldn’t be pissing off my teammate by flirting with his cousin.”

Ingrid walks up to us. “Hey, guys. Looking sharp in your robes.”

Sam chuckles. “Thanks. Well done on all the social media magic you’ve been working on this guy. I gave him a hard time about not posting to his Instagram a couple years ago and he told me to fuck off.”

Ingrid laughs. I roll my eyes.

“That’s not even close to how that conversation went,” I grumble.

“Surprisingly I haven’t had to use much magic at all.” She looks at me. “Underneath that grumpy exterior, Del is a total sweetheart.”

Sam chuckles. “Maybe for you.”

Luc Jean Pierre walks up to us.

“Gentlemen! Lovely Ingrid! I don’t mean to interrupt, but we should start the shoot now,” Luc Jean says, his French accent thick.

Sam tells me to break a leg before walking out of the studio.

Ingrid steps up to me, her soft, blue gaze focused as she reaches up and smooths out my hair. She’s standing so close to me that her boobs are grazing my chest. I breathe and get a lungful of her perfume, which smells like flowers and grapefruit. Fuck, it’s intoxicating.

When she’s standing this close to me, I can feel the heat from her body and it’s making me hot all over…

I hold my breath and do long division in my head to keep from popping a boner.

She steps back and smiles. “You’re good to go.”

I mumble a “thanks” and follow Luc Jean to where he wants me to stand, against a brick wall.

“This will be a magnificent contrast. So beautiful. The hard lines of the brick, the hard lines of your body. Just perfection.” He gestures wildly with his hands.

He runs me through the positions he wants me to pose in, then asks if I’m okay with it.

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Ingrid turns to me. “Have fun.”

She starts to walk out of the studio, but just then Luc Jean gasps and shouts, “Wait!”

We both look at him. He stands there, eyes wide, staring in awe at nothing in particular.

“I just had the most brilliant idea!” He turns to Ingrid. “Lovely Ingrid, how would you like to be part of Del’s photoshoot?”

She lets out a surprised laugh. “What do you mean?”

He closes his eyes and leans his head back while pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just had the most incredible vision.”

He stays like that for five seconds while everyone in the studio quietly stares at him. I glance at Ingrid and quietly mouth, “What the hell?” She shrugs.

Luc Jean opens his eyes and holds up his hands like he’s framing a painting. “Janet Jackson. The cover of Rolling Stone . The year was 1993, I believe.”

Luc Jean’s assistant nods like he understands completely. I frown, utterly confused. That was two years before I was born, so I have no idea what he’s talking about.

Luc Jean and his assistant speak quickly in French. His assistant grabs his phone and taps his finger on the screen. A second later, he holds it up to me.

There’s a young and gorgeous Janet Jackson posing topless while some random guy stands behind her, cupping her boobs.

I blink at the image. That’s pretty hot.

“That is our inspiration for your shoot, Del.” Luc Jean looks at me. “Del, you will be Janet. And Lovely Ingrid.” He walks up to Ingrid and scoops her hands in his. “You will be the hands. You will cup his chest and it will be…”

He closes his eyes and hums like he’s savoring a bite of food.

“Magnifique,” he whispers.

I look at Ingrid. Her blue eyes are saucers and her mouth is open in shock.

I’m shocked too. This guy wants me butt-ass naked while Ingrid stands behind me and feels me up.

I won’t lie. The idea of Ingrid touching me is hot.

But here? In front of a group of strangers? For a photoshoot?

That’s gonna be awkward as fuck.

I turn to Ingrid, who looks more flustered than uncomfortable.

Still holding Luc Jean’s hands, she looks at me. “I’m down for it if you are.”

I let out a soft laugh. “Let’s do it.”