Page 83 of The All-Inclusive

“Of course.” That’s an easy one. “I want a whole damn army of rugrats spilling soup on the carpet and begging for piggyback rides. I’ll read the ever lovin’ fuck out of bedtime stories.”

She laughs as her fingers relax. “I think I saw that in a parenting manual.”

“Probably one my parents had.” I grin when she gives me a curious look. “My mom and stepdad were really loving and open. We talked about literally everything. You name it—politics, sex, mental health.”

“No kidding?”

“Nope. I got the birds and the bees talk when I was four. The first time I had sex as a teenager, I told them afterward, and they sat me down for a discussion on the importance of pleasuring my partner.” Wincing, I recall some of the cringier details. “There were diagrams.”

“Oh, God.” She laughs. “No wonder you’re so good at your job.”

“My mom is actually the reason Ihavethis job.”

“What?”

“It’s true.” I can’t believe I’m sharing this. It’s not something that typically comes up with guests. “I went through a rough patch when I was injured in the line of duty. I left the Marines and went on a self-destruction binge—booze, pills, fast cars, you name it.”

“Oh, Logan.” Tears fill her pretty brown eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m fine now.” I’m a little surprised that Trent didn’t tell her. Guess he guards others’ secrets just like his own. “When I pulled myself out of it, I needed to find a new path. I talked it over with Mom and she asked what I most wanted to do for a living.” That conversation feels like yesterday. “Like a total smartass, I told her my life’s ambition was getting paid to have sex with a large quantity of enthusiastic, appreciative women.”

“You did not!”

“I sure as hell did.”

She’s shaking her head like she doubts me. “I can’t imagine even saying the wordsexto my parents.”

Huh? “What would they call it?”

“Ugh.” She rolls her head. “Lying togetherwas a favorite for my mother. My dad just called ityour marital duty.”

“Bet they’re fun at parties.”

“Not really, but they mean well.” Her eyes get a faraway look. “I’ve always liked the termmaking love. It sounds so sweet and intimate.”

“Sure.” Not my favorite term, but I get how it fits her long-standing beliefs about intimacy.

“I said the words ‘making love’ in front of my mother once.” Sara makes a face. “I don’t even remember the context, but it probably had to do with my future honeymoon. This was in high school, but I already knew by then that I wanted to marry Trent.”

“That’s sweet.” And so far from how I was raised. “I take it Mom’s not a fan of the term ‘making love’?”

Sara laughs, but it’s stilted. “She said she’d wash my mouth out with soap if I said it again.”

“Jesus.”

“It’s fine. She’s just kind old-fashioned.” She lowers her voice like she’s telling a secret. “I still like that term, by the way.”

“I won’t tell.” God, she’s adorable.

Smiling, she squeezes my hand. “Back to your story, please.”

“Right, yeah. So after I told Mom my dream job was having sex with copious enthusiastic women, she went online and did research. Two days later, she came back with a dozen printed pages and a link to apply as a consort for the Jilted Brides Honeymoon Club. Six weeks later, I had a whole new career.”

Sara stops walking and stares at me. Wind whips her hair and the light makes her eyes seem to glow from within. “I can’t even tell you how much I love that.”

“Itispretty cool.” And also a good reminder to call myparents. It’s been a few days since we chatted. “I know I’m lucky to be raised by such open-minded, sex-positive people.”

“Would you believe I had no idea families could even be like that? Not until I met Camille.”

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