Camera Shy (Lessons in Love Book 1)

I think I’ve figured it out.

The reason I’m so drawn to Avery is because she can’t help but be herself. She embarrasses easily but can laugh at herself. She startles like a buck during hunting season but recovers so quickly with grace. She’s shy yet forward all at the same time. Shy enough to feel like a fish out of water in the bedroom but forward enough to ask me for help with her insecurities.

“Do you mind if I order for us?” I ask Avery, sitting on the other side of the booth. This table could seat at least eight. It’s completely unnecessary for just Avery and me, but I’m assuming Angelo’s pissed at his staff and a little worried about his job at the moment.

“Not at all,” she says as she taps away on her phone.

“You sure? It drives some women crazy.”

She lifts one eyebrow but doesn’t look away from her phone screen. “I’m assuming you know this restaurant well?”

“I do.”

“Then you know what’s good.” She finally looks up at me and tucks her phone away in her clutch.

“Work emergency?” I ask.

She shakes her head, causing her long hair to jostle. I’m not used to seeing her thick, dark hair down. It’s hard to picture Avery without the sloppy bun. The woman in front of me is almost unrecognizable.

“No. I was Googling how to spell hippopotamus. To be honest, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure I could spell it forward, let alone backward.”

“For shame, Avery. College educated and can’t spell hippopotamus? What were they teaching you?”

She points both fingers at me. “You know something? College was useless for me. Everything I’ve learned that’s helpful for my job, I taught myself. All college got me was a mountain of student loan debt.”

“I can empathize,” I say. “My degree is in economics.”

“Oh.” She cringes. “I’m sorry.”

I snort. “And marketing is more interesting?”

“My degree isn’t in marketing. It’s in—”

Our waiter arrives in a huff, cutting Avery off. “I apologize for the wait, Mr. Harvey…Mrs. Harvey.”

Avery shoots me a pointed look, almost demanding I correct him.

What is it with this girl? So she clearly likes me, but the idea of being with me repulses her? What the hell?

I hold out my hand, gesturing across the table. “This is my friend, Ms. Scott.”

He flushes. “I am terribly sorry. Can I get you another drink, miss? Our signature cocktail for the evening has dark rum and Tahitian vanilla bitters. It’s quite popular.”

I raise my brow at Avery and she smirks back.

“No, thank you. I need my head this evening.”

I freeze and watch our waiter’s face turn beet red.

“Pardon me,” Avery says with a sly smile. “I mean, I need to keep my head this evening. Just water, please.”Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

“And you, Mr. Harvey?” The waiter pulls the oversized menus from underneath his arm, but I hold up my hand to stop him.

I’m not in the mood. We’ve been waiting too long. We should’ve been wrapping up dinner by now. Avery and I should already be back at my place…studying.

“Water is fine. We’re ready to order. The southwest rolls, but not with the mango salsa, with the pickled cilantro slaw. Then the pot stickers with the duck sauce, the crab fritters, not too spicy, and for dessert, raspberry tiramisu. Don’t split it. One plate, two forks is fine. Bring it out individually as it’s ready, no need to wait.”

“Of course, sir. Great order.”

We both wait until the waiter is out of earshot and talk at the same time.

“You said head on purpose, didn’t you—” I start.

“What the hell was that—” she also begins.

I rub my brow with one finger. “Ladies first.”

“Why is everyone here so skittish around you, Griffin Harvey the third? What’s up, Finn? What aren’t you telling me?” There’s a glint in her light eyes, eager to hear a juicy secret.

A secret I really don’t want to share.

I shrug. “My grandpa owns this restaurant. Apparently, that translates to I can get anyone here fired, which is not true, nor would I want to.”

“Oh.” Avery runs her fingertip across her lips as she contemplates my response. Even her nails are painted in a light pink. She really did go all out tonight.

Was that for me?

“I don’t mean to sound spoiled here, but then why did you have to call and make a reservation and why did we wait at the bar for so long?”

I let out a deep breath and sink into the tufted booth. “My grandpa owns a lot of places on the Strip. I try not to play the Harvey card. But I invited you out and I just wanted to treat you to a nice evening. I get the feeling you don’t get taken out a lot.” I don’t know what I said wrong, but I sure as hell said something wrong. Shit. Her eyes hit her lap immediately and I scramble. “I didn’t mean that no one would ask you—”

“No, no,” Avery replies, her eyes still down, “it’s fine. You’re right. I haven’t been single in years, and Mason and I were homebodies.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Finn, this is the only nice dress I own.”

I stay silent, too worried I’m going to say something wrong again.

“I mean, I make well into the six figures. I can actually afford to live in a decent part of L.A., which a lot of people can’t say…and this is the only nice piece of clothing I have. It’s the only dress I have that makes me feel pretty.”

I run my hand through my hair and grumble. “Is this whole arrangement just so I’ll call you pretty, because I already—”

“Stop.” Avery locks her eyes on mine, startling me with the fire blazing in them. “Please do not misunderstand me. This is not a shallow validation thing. It’s not about you calling me pretty. What good is it if you and every other man on this planet calls me pretty if I don’t believe it? Even more terrifying, what good is it if my entire worth is wrapped up in a man’s opinion of me? Look, Finn, my mom gave me the sex talk at age sixteen. You know what she told me?”

“What?”

“Don’t do it. Don’t get pregnant.”

“Oh boy…” Although my dad’s rendition wasn’t much better. His advice? Fuck early. Fuck often. Don’t settle down. Advice he gave me right in front of my mother.

“So I went from awkward sex to boring sex, eventually to no sex. I don’t know if Mason was the problem, or I was, but I just know I don’t want to have that problem ever again. I want to find someone who is a good match, who brings out the best in me. But I don’t know how to match myself because I don’t know what I like. I haven’t tried much of anything. Sex is behind closed doors, lights off, obligatory, and awkward. Would you be okay with that kind of sex life with your wife?”

Truthfully? No. “In a good marriage, if you’re unhappy, aren’t you supposed to talk about it and work on it together?”

Avery points square between my eyes. “Exactly. That’s what we’re doing.” She flits her hand in the air dismissively. “Without the marriage part, of course. This is research. A trade. It’s the perfect way to safely test the waters. I don’t know anyone else who has your confidence in the bedroom who needs my help with something too. Or at least I thought you did until I realized you’re secretly rich.”

My chest tightens as my jaw twitches. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, please,” Avery says, then vibrates her tongue against her bottom lip. “I was confused for a minute, but it’s all making sense now. Your Rolex has diamonds on it,” she says, nodding to my wrist. “You pulled out a hundred-dollar bill from your wallet without flinching, so I’m assuming there’s more where that came from, and everyone who hears your last name is quaking in their boots. Plus, I lied to you earlier. I wasn’t looking up hippopotamus. I have an uncanny knack for spelling. I was looking up Harvey Griffin Senior who owns two hotels, a dozen restaurants, and several parking garages all on the Strip. Net worth roughly in the ballpark of a quarter billion. Is that true? Those online estimates online are never accurate.” She pumps her eyebrows at me. “They’re usually a lowball. How am I doing here?”

I match her stare. “Are you interrogating me?”

Her smile spreads. “Your wealth is not my business, Finn. But I do wonder why you’re mooching off Dex’s nice steaks and borrowing his hot tub. I get the feeling you could certainly afford your own.”

I could lie about this so easily. I do it all the time. It’s a secret I managed to keep from Nora. To this day, she thinks my grandpa is actually broke because of tax evasion and my inheritance won’t be enough to cover a Happy Meal. It couldn’t be further from the truth.

But this is Avery. Without a doubt, I know my money doesn’t interest her. She’s not exactly a woman after the finer things in life. Yet another reason why we get along so well.

“My inheritance will come in stages. Twenty percent when I turn thirty. Another twenty percent when I turn thirty-five. So on and so forth.”

“What?” Avery asks in a shrill voice. She clears her throat, her prior tone accidental from surprise.

“My grandpa is a level-headed man. He’s established trusts for all of his children and grandchildren, but he set up the disbursements to make sure we still had to work our way through adulthood. I was raised never to count on his money. Plus, there are all sorts of stipulations to get the full disbursements. We have to be married by a certain age, have children, or prove we medically can’t. We have to live in a certain radius. It’s controlling of Gramps, actually.”

It’s the only reason my dad married my mom. She married for love. He married for a payout. My grandpa thought he was doing his son a favor by trying to rein in his dickish behavior, but all he did was make my mom an easy target.

Before I can say more, Angelo, dressed in a full suit, tie and all, arrives at our table with a plate of steamed dumplings and spicy duck sauce. He looks like a walking contradiction. His jet-black hair is slicked back, pulled into a tiny knot on the nape of his neck, yet his three-piece suit is pristine. I can see part of a tattoo wrapping around his thumb. Angelo and I use the same tattoo artist. His big-boy job as Rue 52’s manager was only because of my insistent recommendation to Gramps. I stand by it. He’s a hard worker and a good guy.

“I am so sorry, man,” Angelo says as he slides the platter onto the table. Avery’s eyes follow the heavenly-smelling dish and she’s practically drooling. Poor thing was lying. She’s starving. It’s been nearly two hours since I picked her up and I bet she was saving her appetite.

“What’s going on? The bar is a mess.”

Angelo rolls his eyes. “I had two waiters call out on me ten minutes before their shift due to legitimate medical emergencies. My best busboy burnt the shit out of his hand, and my sous chef sliced his hand open on a bottle of merlot. It’s the house of fucking horrors in here tonight. I was actually back there washing dishes myself. I threw on this monkey suit to come apologize to you. Why didn’t you call me and tell me you were coming tonight?”

He holds out his hand and clasps mine in a brotherly handshake.

“I didn’t want to make a fuss, Lo. I’m simply taking my friend to dinner.”

Angelo gives me an impish smile as he turns his gaze to Avery like a hunter eyeing his prey. I’m not sure what his intentions are with that look on his face, but I’m either about to laugh or knock that stupid smirk right off his face.

His move.

“Where are my manners? Hello…”

Avery sticks her hand out in a hurry. “Avery. Nice to meet you.” She points to the dumplings. “These smell divine. You are the first person to bring me food all evening, meaning you are officially my favorite person in this restaurant.”

Angelo tsks his tongue but doesn’t take his eyes off Avery. “Shame on you, Finn. Starving your date like that. What’s your favorite kind of wine, hermosa? I owe you a bottle for making you wait.”

“Lo,” I gripe, “keep your wine and your compliments and just bring out the rest of our food.”

I know he’s messing with me. He used to do the same thing with Nora whenever I brought her around. A friendly pissing contest. Except when it comes to Avery, I’m not feeling very playful. Just protective. Angelo’s not good enough for her. He’s never going to take the time to appreciate all the layers—her humor, her charm, her elegance, and her flat-out goofiness. He doesn’t realize she has a secret weapon she likes to tuck away. That sweet pussy for starters. Bare, pink, and puffy—all my favorite adjectives for that part of a woman. But Avery plays the part of plain Jane because it’s comfortable for her. She’s trying to hide behind Clark Kent’s glasses. When they come off and she dresses up the way she is tonight, every man can clearly see what they are to her…

Undeserving.

Myself included.

But I’m a hell of a lot closer than Angelo.

Angelo’s laughing at me, enjoying my agitation. “Fine, how about a picture?” He pulls his phone from his pocket. “You both look so nice tonight. I’ll frame it and you can go on the celebrity wall.”

“No!” Avery practically shouts. Angelo and I both jump a little. “I’m sorry, I mean no, thank you. No to the picture, and most definitely no to my face on a wall. Please…just, no, thank you…”

I can feel the hot discomfort coming off her skin, so I reach across the table and ask for her hand. Obediently, she places her hand in mine and I squeeze the tips of her fingers. “Lo, go check on my eggrolls, man.”

“All right, all right. Oh, hey, while I have you, are you still looking to sell your truck? I might have scrambled up the cash. Can I take a look before you leave tonight before I make a final decision?”

I reluctantly pull my gaze away from Avery’s eyes. Her eye makeup accentuates the green perfectly. Natural, yet her lashes look a little darker. Those pretty eyes don’t need any help. They catch my attention all the time on their own.

“I didn’t drive it tonight. We took an Uber.”

“An Uber?” he squawks. He bows his head and shakes it from side to side. “Just sad. I would’ve brought you in a limo, hermosa.” He puckers his lips at Avery and she snickers. I truly can’t tell if she’s enjoying the attention. I certainly am not.

“Bye, Lo. I’d say it was nice seeing you, but honestly, I could take you or leave you right now.”

He laughs heartily as he retreats from the table. “Have a good dinner, you two. Finn, I’ll call you about the truck.”

I give Avery’s fingers one more quick squeeze before I release her hand and point to the dish between us. “These are best while they’re hot.”

She rubs her hands together in glee. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” She grabs her appetizer fork, stabs the smallest dumpling, and dunks it in the bowl of sweet and spicy sauce.

“By the way,” I ask her, twirling my own fork in my hand. “Did you not want your picture taken, or you didn’t want your picture taken with me?”

She screws up her face, taken aback. “Nothing to do with you. I just hate pictures. My face always looks like a balloon. I have no camera charisma. I smile so big my eyes look crooked. I’ve never once taken a good picture.”

“Your headshot on your website is nice.”

She rolls her eyes. “That was my high school senior picture, and I photoshopped the shit out of it.”

“High school?” I ask, incredulous. She simply nods in response. “You are a highly sought-after brand consultant who works with Fortune 500 companies and you haven’t had a legitimate picture taken since high school?”

“What’s your point, Finn? It’s clearly not inhibiting my business,” she mutters.

“My point is, I can help with that. I might know a guy who takes some damn good pictures.” I point to the middle of my chest. “I could take some really nice professional headshots for you. Let me help you.”

For a moment, I think she considers it. But she eventually shakes it off. “You already have your work cut out in helping me. Believe me.” She takes a small bite of the dumpling, chews, then swallows. She nudges the plate in my direction across the linen-covered tabletop, inviting me to join her. “These are the best things I’ve ever eaten in my life.” Avery moans in appreciation.

“What do you mean I have my work cut out for me?”

She points her fork at me. “One of us is about to have the time of their life in the bedroom tonight.” She dunks the other side of her dumpling back into the sauce. “And sorry to tell you, buddy, it’s not going to be you. I may be a quick learner, but I’m basically starting from ground zero. You’re going to have to take the lead and pull me across the finish line.”

I chuckle to myself. Does she really think that’s a problem? Little does Avery know, a woman like her letting me take the lead…?

There’s no bigger turn-on than that.