Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You-Chapter 113: Living Situation

Josh

"Well..." I lean forward, elbows on my knees. "Since it’s happening, we might as well have fun together."

Hailey’s eyes turn wide in disbelief. "Wait...are you seriously considering staying here and taking the modeling job?"

I run a hand through my hair, weighing my options. "I mean, why not? I can work my other job remotely. I have vacation time saved up, and the whole modeling thing sounds fun.

Hailey does not look amused.

"Josh, this is my career we’re talking about. My big break. Not some romantic comedy where we fall into each other’s arms after a series of wacky misunderstandings," she says, shaking her head.

"I know that," I say, more seriously. "And I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize this opportunity for you. If you want me gone, I’m gone. One word from you, and I’ll tell Marcus I had a family emergency."

She studies my face, searching for something. The silence stretches between us, heavy with possibility.

Hailey sighs, leaning back in her chair. "The thing is... the photos are good. Really good. And Marcus liked them, which is apparently rarer than a unicorn sighting."

I can’t help but smile. "So what are you saying?"

"I’m saying..." She pauses, shaking her head like she can’t believe what she’s about to say. "Stay. Model. But this is professional, okay? No more... whatever this is." She waves vaguely between us.

"Whatever this is," I repeat, fighting a grin. "Got it. Professional. I can do professional."

Hailey narrows her eyes. "I mean it, Josh. My reputation is on the line."

"I’ll be the most professional model you’ve ever worked with," I promise, holding up three fingers in a mock scout’s honor. "Scout’s honor."

"Were you even a scout?" she asks skeptically.

"Absolutely not. Got kicked out for putting a frog in the troop leader’s sleeping bag." I smile at the memory. "But the sentiment stands."

A reluctant smile tugs at her lips. "You’re impossible."

"I prefer ’spontaneous,’" I correct her. "So, Ms. Photographer, what now?"

Hailey glances at her watch and stands. "Now I have to review today’s shots and prep for tomorrow’s shoot. And you..." She points at me, "where are you staying?"

I stand too, suddenly aware I’m still shirtless. "Right. I need a place. I could stay at the hotel but that will get expensive real quick. I also owe an explanation to my boss about why I’m suddenly moonlighting as a model."

"Your boss," Hailey repeats, eyes widening. "Your job! Josh, did you just abandon your actual career to follow me here?"

I shrug. "I told you, I can work remotely. As long as I have my laptop, everything’s fine."

Hailey shakes her head as if she thinks I am insane.

I guess I am a little.

"So, where will you be staying? Airbnb?" she asks.

Before I can answer, the door swings open and the woman from earlier walks in. Tammy, I think. She looks between us with raised eyebrows.

"Sorry to interrupt this... whatever this is," she says, gesturing between us, "but I couldn’t help but overhear. You need a place to stay?"

I nod. "Yeah, just trying to figure out my options."

Tammy taps her pen against the clipboard, her expression brightening. "I have a solution. The company has a house in the Village that they keep for visiting talent. Hailey is due to move there later tonight. There’s a second bedroom that’s just sitting empty."

Hailey’s eyes widen. "Wait, what? He can’t just..."

"I think it’s the perfect solution," Tammy interrupts her.

I glance at Hailey, trying to gauge her reaction. Her face is a fascinating mix of surprise and horror.

"So... you’re suggesting we live together?" she asks, her voice slightly higher than normal.

Tammy shrugs. "It’s practical. You’re both working on the same project, you both need housing, and frankly, the budget folks will be thrilled to save on a hotel." She looks at me. "Unless you’d prefer to find your own accommodations?"

"I—" I start, but Hailey cuts me off.

"But wouldn’t it be completely unprofessional?" she says, though her objection sounds weak even to my ears.

Tammy smiles knowingly. "Professional is whatever works, sweetie. Marcus wants those shots, and you two clearly have some kind of chemistry that’s translating on camera." She checks her watch. "I need an answer. There’s a car waiting downstairs to take you to the brownstone."

Hailey and I exchange a long look. I’m careful to keep my expression neutral—this has to be her call.

"Fine," she finally says with a resigned sigh. "But separate bedrooms, and this is a work arrangement only."

"Absolutely," I agree quickly. "Strictly professional."

Tammy’s smile widens. "Perfect. The car leaves in fifteen. Josh, wardrobe needs their pants back, so..." She gestures to my still-bare chest.

As she exits, Hailey groans and drops her head into her hands. "This can’t be happening."

"Look on the bright side," I offer, reaching for my shirt. "At least you’ll have someone to help you run lines."

"Photographers don’t have lines," she mutters, but I catch the hint of a smile she’s trying to hide.

"Details, details." I button my shirt, watching her collect her camera equipment. "For what it’s worth, I promise to be a perfect gentleman. I’ll even lock myself in the bedroom so you won’t have to see my stupid face unnecessarily."

Hailey gives me a look that’s half-exasperation, half-amusement. "Your face isn’t stupid."

"Oh?" I raise an eyebrow, feeling a flutter of something warm in my chest. "High praise from the professional photographer."

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of color in her cheeks as she turns away. "Don’t let it go to your head. You’ve already got an ego the size of Manhattan."

"Wounded," I clutch my chest dramatically. "And here I thought we were having a moment."

Hailey busies herself with her camera bag, but I can see the smile she’s fighting. "The only moment we’re having is a professional one. Remember?" freeweɓnøvel.com

"Right. Professional." I nod seriously, then reach over to help her with an equipment case that’s slipping from her grasp. Our fingers brush, and for a split second, neither of us moves away.

The door swings open again, breaking whatever spell had momentarily fallen over us. Tammy stands there, tapping her watch impatiently.

"Car. Downstairs. Now," she says, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You can continue whatever this is—" she waves her hand between us, "—at the brownstone."

"There’s nothing to continue," Hailey mutters, shouldering her bag and heading for the door. I follow, trying not to smile at how flustered she sounds.