Page 29 of A Reluctant Boy Toy
I touched my glass to hers. “Thanks for helping with the food. When I go to visit the sanctuary, we’re going to try to get together again. You want to come along?”
“Sure. Anyway, how long do you think you’d survive without me?”
“I don’t want to find out.”
“Too bad he’s not boyfriend material.” She sighed. “You seem to really like him.”
“Dad told me to hang in there until I meet my soulmate. Of course, Dad was once married to my mother, so I don’t take his romantic advice seriously.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask. How come Alastair hasn’t remarried?”
I shrugged. “Probably afraid to get burned again.”
“But having a soulmate would be awesome,” Molly said dreamily. “I’ve never felt incomplete, but it’d be so nice to find someone who really gets me.”
“I’d want that too if I believed it existed.” I got up and took my wine with me. “I’m heading to bed.”
“Night, baby.” She drained her glass. “Dang. Now I’ve gotta brush my teeth again.”
“I’ll leave you to it.”
There’s a universal truth about RVs. The bigger they are—the more expensive and tricked out—the fewer people they sleep. Ours had one room with a queen-size bed and a sleeper sofa in the communal area. It was okay for Molly and me.
That night as I changed for bed, I discovered how much dog hair transfers from even well-groomed German shepherds and low content wolfdogs. I could have crocheted a whole other dog with what I brushed off my jeans alone.
I showered, cleaned my teeth, and set the alarm, allowing just enough time to throw on clothes and get out the door before the town car arrived.
On my phone, I found the picture I’d taken of Stone. He was lying on his back, arms beneath his head, with the dogs all snug around him like they were having a private Furry convention, and my heart ached with desire for a thing I couldn’t have.
Not love. Not romantic love, anyway. Not even tribe, although I certainly felt a kinship to the loner who cared for his dog family. If I closed my eyes and revisited the scene, I saw the smiling moon and brilliant stars. I felt the chilly wind that blew rosettes in the dogs’ fur as they lay huddled together in the kennel. Smelled the unique combination of dog hair, well-worn sleeping bag, and dirt.
They were more than tribe; they were a family.
I drifted to sleep hoping for a someday family of my own.
* * *
My alarm wentoff way too soon. I leaped from the bed, slipped on warm, comfortable clothes, and made it out just in time for Molly to hand me a cup of coffee. Though I was perfectly able bodied, she insisted on toting my gym bag to the golf cart.
A hired car met us in the clearing. Though the sun wasn’t yet up, the driver seemed lively. I slipped on my sunglasses and earbuds to discourage conversation.
We drove for ninety minutes in silence.
Unlike filming a television series, advertising photo shoots were fast paced and sometimes grueling with several costume changes and different settings in as few hours as possible. Until Molly had become my PA, I’d done what was asked of me past exhaustion, past dehydration sometimes, because being the focus of that much attention at a young age taught me to close my eyes and think of England.
“Hello, Sebastian.” The photographer greeted me after I finished with the makeup artists and a fashion stylist. “Do you remember me?”
I’d automatically lifted my hand to shake, but when my gaze traveled to his face, I pulled it back. “Ian Drake.”
He stared too hard. “You were barely sixteen the last time I photographed you. A beautiful child.”
His double meaning hit my bowels like a prizefighter.
“Where would you like me?” I pretended I didn’t already know—but I did know with an awful clarity where he would like me and what he would do with me if he could. I could not believe evenmymother would set me up to sit for this man again.
“How about on the lounge?” he said politely.
“Molly?”
