“We look like two patients who just walked out of the dentist’s office and were asked to take a picture together. We need to try another one.”

Brady didn’t disagree.

He held the phone up, and this time Sloane tried her own new angle. She turned her body toward him. Her cheeks became two hot springs as she asked her question.

“Do you mind if I put my arms around you?” She hurried over her words to explain her intent. “If my quasi–internet fame works, then just us being together might drum up more customers for Cassidy’s Place. But only if we look believable.”

“And not like dental patients.” There was a slight mocking tone to his words, but he kept on. “Fine. I formally give you permission to mold me like you want for the internet. I am your clay, Miss De Carlo.”

Thanks to the kiss they’d shared the night before, Sloane knew to expect a hardened body that could be felt through Brady’s shirt. Yet that didn’t stop the little trill of excitement as she slid one arm around his waist and the other across his chest and felt the promise of muscles and a well-oiled body. She fanned her fingers out across his chest and tilted her head so the back of it was against his left pec. She looked at the camera while mentally yelling at her cheeks to cool off before they burned her entire body down.

Brady’s image on the display was all amusement. Sloane ignored it.

“Now use your free hand to go around my waist, and then smile like you mean it.”

Brady obliged, and their second picture came out light-years better than the first. Or, at least, they didn’t look like two strangers still coming off the novocaine.

“Okay, let me post this really quick,” Sloane said, taking a little too much of a step back.

“What’s the caption going to be? Something super lame or cheesy? ‘Guy? More like fly.’”

Sloane laughed.

“I was going to just put a heart emoji and tag you. That should get the people interested in me interested in you. And maybe those people will be interested enough to come back later to see if I give an update. Then we could post a pic at the bar and really reel them in.” A new influx of nerves tightened into a ball in the pit of her stomach. “That is, if I survive this lunch at all.”

Audible gulp times two.