Page 105 of PR Stunt

Juno gasps dramatically. “Have you finally reaped the benefits of this contract?”

“Juno!”

“God, I would. Especially after seeing how good Grayson looks surfing.”

“I haven’t even seen the articles yet, but Anna seemed thrilled.”

“I’m not even the one who had Grayson’s hands all over me, and even I can’t recover from the pictures.”

My face warms. “Oh my God. Just send them to me.”

The first photo is of us floating just past the break, the water calm, rolling beneath us in gentle swells. I’m sitting up on my board, straddling it, my hair dripping down my back. I’m flicking water at Grayson, grinning midsentence, while he’s beside me in the water, bracing his hands against my board. He’s looking up at me and smiling wide. The second is a shot of me mid-wave. The sun glints off the water as I ride it, knees bent, arms loose, my expression somewhere between exhilaration and disbelief. I’m surfing. And in the background, slightly blurred but unmistakable, is Grayson, watching, grinning, caught mid-whoop, his hands raised in victory like he’s the one who just landed the wave.

And the third, the wipeout. Water crashes around me, droplets frozen midair from the force of my fall, but I’m not struggling. I’m laughing. And right there, arms wrapped around me, steadying me, is Grayson. His hold is firm, his chest against my back, his mouth close to my ear as if caught midsentence. These aren’t staged.

They’re real.

Dismissing the thought, I blink down at the screen. It’s disorienting for half a second, how genuine it looks. A small voice whispers that it’s only work obligations. I push past the weird tangle of emotions. “I should finish getting ready. We have a little sailboat dinner thing tonight.”

“Ugh. Jealous,” Juno sighs. “Okay, love you. Thanks for indulging me with this check-in.”

I smile. “Love you too.”

“And remember, think to yourself, what would Juno do?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Horrible advice.”

“Only the best kind,” she quips.

Still smiling, I hang up, drain the last of my drink, and head back to the closet.

When I slip into the outfit, the skirt sits low on my waist, the top dipping just enough to feel daring. I smooth my hands over the fabric and then step out into the hallway where Grayson is waiting.

“You ready?”

I nod. “Yep. Let’s go.” Then I pause. “Oh, wait. I forgot my phone.”

I spin back into the bedroom, scanning the nightstand, then the dresser. Nothing.

“Where did I…” I murmur, pulling back the corner of the comforter and peeking underneath.

“Ugh. I just had it.”

Grayson leans against the doorframe. “Want me to call it?”

I wave a hand. “Sure. It’s probably wedged under something.”

He dials, and a second later, the faint buzz of vibration comes from the bed. He crosses the room, lifts a pillow, and pauses. His brows lift slowly as he pulls the phone out and turns the screen toward me.

“Wait!” I lurch forward, but too late.

“You made my contact name Stank Breath?” His voice is loud with disbelief and way too much enjoyment.

I press a hand over my mouth, laughing. “I was going to change it.”

“Oh no. You don’t get to backpedal now.”

He takes a step forward, and I spin on my heel, bolting into the living room. I make it to the far side of the coffee table and plant myself there, arms wide like a human barricade.