The Pet Stylist and the Playboy Read online

  I’ve kissed plenty of people of various genders, but none that had been so completely shattering to my senses. The closest had been my first kiss with a guy back in high school over a game of spin the bottle. The big deal there had been that the kiss had clued me in on my attraction to guys. The kiss with Isaac had knocked my socks off for other reasons.

  Since that night, Isaac had been on my mind a lot.

  “You’re daydreaming again.”

  My father’s voice cut into the memory of Isaac’s soft skin beneath my fingers and how he’d looked in those silk panties. God, who knew that could be so fucking sexy? Most nights, I’d lie in bed, rubbing them over my swollen dick until I came into my hand. I couldn’t find it in myself to be ashamed for swiping them off Isaac’s bedroom floor when I’d picked up my clothes.

  I met my father’s gaze. “Did you need something?”

  “Your mother’s here.” His face softened a little when he spoke of her. “She wants you to go to lunch with her.”

  I pushed away from the desk, unsure which was worse—going to lunch with my mother or staying at work with my father.

  “Don’t forget your jacket.” My father probably knew I’d purposely leave it behind if I could.

  My mother stood in the showroom dressed to the nines, her Gucci bag clutched in her hand. When she saw me, her eyes ran over me critically before she gave me a strained smile.

  My father kissed her goodbye, and she patted his cheek lovingly.

  “Where are we going?” I asked as we walked out of the building into the bright sunshine. Although mid-September, the weather was sweltering, and I wanted nothing more than to wad up the hateful suit jacket and stuff the expensive garment into the nearest dumpster. Across the lot, Jed, one of my father’s top salesmen, walked around an Audi with a man wearing golf clothes, gesturing with his hands as he pushed a sale.

  “To the club.”

  The word “club” would always mean one thing to me—the Hedonists, my brothers; so, it took me a few seconds to realize my mother meant the country club. Thoughts of that place brought to mind an image of Isaac with Hugh.

  Fucking asshole, moving in the moment my back was turned.

  I told myself Isaac wouldn’t fall for a man like that—all dedicated, humble, and responsible. I winced, because wasn’t that what I was trying to be these days? Not that I wanted Isaac to fall for me. He could do way better, and my future was set. I’d chastised myself over and over for sleeping with him, but when it came right down to it, Isaac had insisted. And I didn’t regret it. Couldn’t regret it.

  “All right?” my mother asked as she pulled out of the dealership parking lot.

  I nodded and turned my attention out the window.

  This season my mother was driving a silver Aston Martin. I longed for my Harley back at the club. As always, the weekend couldn’t come fast enough. I was plotting the earliest possible get-away when my mother stabbed her three-inch heels into my plans.

  “I chose the club for lunch because we need to make sure everything is set for your party Saturday.”

  I’d completely forgotten about the much-dreaded birthday celebration for my thirtieth. Woo-fucking-hoo.

  “Is this really necessary?” I asked her. “The whole thing makes me feel like a piece of meat on display. Too many parents eager to marry off their daughters.”

  “Yes, it is necessary,” she snapped. “You have known about this party for ages, Dante. Don’t try to back out now. And I’ve arranged a date for you. There won’t be any ‘meat market’ going on.”

  I groaned. “Who?”

  “Felicity Bogart-Beezey.”

  I looked at her in horror. “What kind of name is that?”

  “A very old and reputable one. Felicity is the perfect match for you, and I want you to be very attentive to her. Do you understand? Your father and I have held up our end of things; it’s time you held up yours.”

  I shot her an angry look. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  I went back to staring sullenly out the window. Ever since Isaac had told me he wouldn’t take my money, I’d been putting some into an account for him just in case he changed his mind. I had to; otherwise, what was my reason for doing what I was doing?

  “Did you add the name to the guest list I asked you to?”

  My mother glanced at me. “Isaac Paul. Yes, I did. Who is this man?”

  “Just a friend from college,” I lied.

  “I hope he comes from a good family.”

  I only sighed, because there really wasn’t anything I could say to that. My mother was a complete snob. There wasn’t much chance of her running into Isaac at the party, and I wanted him there, even though it was probably a bad idea. I would love to invite the whole club, but they wouldn’t be comfortable there, and besides, I saw them most weekends. I just wanted Isaac to know I hadn’t forgotten about him.

  “I put a plus-one on it, in case he wants to bring a date,” she said.

  Great. I hoped Isaac wouldn’t bring the friendly neighborhood veterinarian.

  As always, the main dining room of the country club was crowded with laughing, drinking, rich people. I spotted one of my father’s golf buddies leaning too close to a woman who I knew was not his wife. We continued down the hall and entered a smaller dining room my mother must have reserved. I pulled out her chair for her, as I knew she expected me to, and a waiter hurried over.

  My mother ordered a bloody Mary, and I went with a gin and tonic. When in Rome. Besides, I knew my father had a martini every day with lunch, so he was unlikely to care if I came back with alcohol on my breath.

  “We decided to have the party around the pool,” my mother informed me.

  The party, not your party, because there was very little about the event that had to do with what I wanted. Hell, I would have much preferred that meal Isaac had offered to cook for me.

  “Why not just have it at home?” I gazed out the spotless floor-to-ceiling window.

  “Because we can accommodate more people here. I’ve invited everyone we know. We’ve booked the main dining room along with the pool area and hired two bands. There will be several bars set up, along with a buffet. And to top things off, fireworks at midnight.”

  I wanted to tell her that I didn’t like any of the people she knew but kept silent. Starting an argument would only make lunch unbearable.

  My mother pinned me with a look. “Everyone thinks you’ve returned from traveling in Europe to take your place in the business and settle down. Don’t make anyone think otherwise, Dante.” Or there will be hell to pay was left unspoken, but I heard it all the same.

  Our drinks arrived, and I gulped down half of mine and ordered another before the waiter could step away from the table.

  “I’ve purchased what you’ll wear,” my mother said, polishing her five-carat diamond ring my father had given her for their thirtieth anniversary with the cloth napkin.

  “You’re dressing me?” I asked. I shouldn’t have been so surprised, but some part of me persisted in thinking of this party as something for me to enjoy.

  “I couldn’t take the risk of you showing up in a muscle shirt and cut-offs,” my mother said, entirely serious.

  “Tell me it isn’t something awful. For God’s sake, don’t dress me like Lake Adams.”

  “Lake is a very elegant young man worthy of your imitation. In fact, if you were gay, I’d choose him for a son-in-law.”

  Stunned, I regarded my mother. “You would be all right with me marrying a man?”

  “If you were gay,” she emphasized. “But you aren’t gay, you’re bisexual. Therefore, you can marry a woman.”

  “What if I fall in love with a man?” I asked.

  She laughed throatily, real amusement on her face. “Oh, Dante. Don’t be silly.”

  I wasn’t sure what she meant by that. What did she think it meant to be bisexual? I couldn’t begin to fathom the way her mind worked. The waiter arrived with the salads, and I turned my attenti
on to eating, glad for the excuse not to talk to her.

  “I’ve picked out a Brooks Brothers suit,” my mother said while re-applying her lipstick.

  I threw my napkin down on the table. “God, no, I refuse.”

  She glared at me, and I wondered if my own eyes were as icy blue.

  I pulled out my phone and scrolled the Internet. “I’ll wear this.” I showed her a pair of muscle-fit checked suit trousers that didn’t look too douchey.

  Her mouth turned down at the corners, but she said, “I suppose they would be all right coupled with the matching jacket and appropriate shirt. I’ll take care of it.”

  I nodded and slid my phone back into my pocket, feeling as though we’d just settled a business deal.

  “Wear the Gucci loafers I got you for Christmas,” my mother said. “Socks optional, as it’s casual. Do you plan to swim?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Wear Vilebrequin or Burberry shorts.”

  Christ, who cared what swim shorts I wore?

  Evidently, I’d been away too long and had forgotten how things worked. My mother had always chosen my clothes. I’d just mistakenly thought I’d grown out of it.

  After lunch, we sought out the club manager and discussed arrangements for the party, during which time I felt like a six-year-old waiting for mommy to get finished. By the time she dropped me off and I entered the cool interior of the dealership, my head felt as though it had been split with a meat cleaver. Time spent with my mother tended to have that effect on me.

  As soon as I sat down at my desk, I popped two pain relievers. With all the talk of clothing, I’d realized I’d invited Isaac to a fancy party he couldn’t afford to dress properly for, and I planned to rectify that. I pulled up a shopping site on the computer, enjoying picking out items for Isaac more than I ever would have for myself, and paid extra to have them shipped to Isaac’s before the weekend. Satisfied, I texted Isaac, telling him that since I’d invited him to an event that required certain attire, I would pay for the clothes and he should watch for a delivery.

  Fifteen minutes later, my phone buzzed. I’d recently updated my contacts and smiled at seeing the name Isaac there instead of Swish.

  Isaac: ATTIRE? Really?

  Me: Shut up.

  Isaac: Seriously. Should I be worried?

  Me: Maybe. See you Saturday.

  Isaac: The invitation says plus one.

  Me: Right. You can bring someone if you want.

  Jealously roiled within me at the thought of Isaac bringing a date, but I’d be a total asshole to expect him to show up alone.

  When he didn’t text again, I sighed and buried myself in work.

  ***

  I was introduced to Felicity Bogart-Beezey sooner than I would have liked. My parents invited her to dinner that night, along with her uncle, Jonas Beezey, the third, the number given with nose in the air.

  “I adopted Felicity when she was twelve,” Jonas told us as we sipped brandy in the parlor before dinner. God, I hated the pretentiousness of it all. “My sister and her husband died in a fire.”

  I sent a politely sympathetic look Felicity’s way, but she didn’t seem bothered. A tall brunette with a nice figure and large blue eyes, Felicity Bogart-Beezey—or FB-B, as I called her in my head—was definitely attractive, but she held the air of a born socialite that immediately turned me off. My parents were pushing hard for her to be “the one,” but I just couldn’t imagine settling down with her. Hell, I couldn’t imagine settling down with anyone, for that matter.

  Felicity seemed to approve of me, if the occasional interested look she cast my way said anything. Once, I would have taken advantage of her interest at the nearest opportunity, eager to shatter that serious exterior with a mind-blowing orgasm. The fact I no longer had that desire confused me.

  “Why don’t you two take a stroll?” my mother suggested with all the subtlety of a steamroller after the excruciatingly long dinner was over.

  Feeling like I was fifteen rather than almost thirty, I dutifully turned and smiled at Felicity, who gave me her hand as though bestowing royal favor upon me, and we headed out the French doors and across the patio.

  “Your house is lovely,” she said after we’d walked in silence for too long not to be awkward.

  “It’s my parents’ house,” I said.

  “Of course. Where do you live?”

  “I’m in the process of looking for something suitable.” Man, I sounded like a snob.

  “Oh, yes. I believe Uncle Jonas said you’ve just returned from Europe. You’ll have to fill me in on your adventures sometime. There are a couple of apartments empty in my building, if you’d care to look at those.”

  Oh, no way.

  “I was thinking more along the lines of a house,” I said, realizing too late how that sounded. Great, now she’ll think I’m eager to settle down.

  I jerked when Felicity took my hand in hers, stopping us underneath the large oak just past the tennis court. I remembered always wanting to climb the tree and my parents never allowing it.

  “Let’s not beat around the bush,” Felicity said, blue eyes sharper than they had been during dinner. “Our families want this match, and I’m fine with it. What about you?”

  Shocked by her candor, it took me a few beats to think of something to say.

  “I’m not sure why my parents are so eager for me to find someone right now.”

  “They said you’re ready to settle down.”

  Thinking there wasn’t much use in rebuffing her, as there’d just be a replacement for her next week, I said, “I just want to take things slow.”

  She smiled. “Well, I suppose I can deal with that. As long as we don’t go too slow.” She leaned in and brushed her lips across mine, the tips of her breasts brushing against my chest.

  I felt nothing.

  Resuming our walk, I changed the subject, making up bull-shit stories of things I’d done in Europe. I was sure it would all catch up with me later when I inevitably forgot my own lies, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care. I felt dead inside, and the prospect of putting on a similar act for hours at my birthday party later that week tugged at me like a rock around my neck. Then I remembered Isaac would be there, and a spark of excitement flared inside me.

  It can’t happen again, I reminded myself. No sex. Still, the prospect of just seeing Isaac was enough to make me feel better.

  I managed to get through the rest of the evening, say goodnight to Felicity Bogart-Beezey without kissing her, assure my parents I’d had a lovely time, and make it to my bedroom without completely losing my cool.

  Lying between silk sheets in the darkness, I wondered how I would be able to live this charade for the rest of my life.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Swish

  “Oh, my God, she looks beautiful!” Mrs. Wallace ran her hand over her Bichon Frise, Mandy’s, coat. “You did a wonderful job. You have talent, Isaac. Have you considered getting certified? You could charge so much more money!”

  I smiled. “Thank you. Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it.”

  “Good. I’ll see you next month.”

  Mrs. Wallace was one of my regular customers, and I had her penciled in on the same day of each month in my calendar.

  When she and Mandy left, I sanitized my tools and put them away before cleaning all surfaces of the room. I really had been researching getting certified in pet grooming, but I needed to save a whopping $5,000 for the certification program.

  I’d meant it when I told Dante I wasn’t sure I still wanted to pursue a career in culinary arts. I’d enjoyed cooking for the club, and I loved trying out new things on Gus, but did I really want to be a chef in some busy restaurant or even someone’s personal chef? I didn’t think so.

  I’d always loved animals, and I’d fallen into grooming when Hung had brought home a bedraggled stray he’d found on the road. I’d made the mutt look like a new dog. Since then, I’d gotten a lot of enjoyment out of my clien
ts, and the job had brought me to Gus, who was turning out to be so much more than an employer. I looked forward to the evenings we spent together eating, talking, playing games, or just sitting companionably doing our own thing. He was the first real father figure I’d ever had in my life, and that meant more to me than I could ever express in words. So, I tried to show him by doing as much as I could to make his life easier and more pleasurable.

  I carried a bag of trash out to the can I would have to take down to the end of the driveway along with Gus’s, and spotted Hugh coming out of the kennels. I hadn’t known he was on the property and hoped he wasn’t trying to avoid me after our failed date, no matter what he’d said about being fine with just being friends.

  I needn’t have worried; his smile was huge when he saw me.

  “How are they?” I asked. Currently, we had five big dogs in the kennels. Two had just been brought in and were separated from the others until Hugh deemed them healthy.

  “They look good. I gave them their shots. Keep them from the others for a few more days just to be sure.”

  I nodded. “You want to come in for a drink?”

  Hugh checked his watch. “I’m due at a farm down the road. Thanks anyway. See you later.” He raised his hand in goodbye.

  I watched him stride across the lawn toward his car, which was parked in front of Gus’s. Hugh always made time to speak to the old man a while before checking the animals. He was a good guy, and I wished I felt more for him, but I didn’t. No, I had to be hung up on a certain Casanova who would always be out of my reach.

  At least I’d had one night with him.

  I’d considered asking Hugh to be my plus one to Dante’s party on Saturday, but I didn’t want to give the impression I wanted to date; so, I’d asked Blaze to go with me instead. Blaze had assured me he wouldn’t have any trouble finding something to wear to what was evidently going to be a swanky pool party; meanwhile, I waited with trepidation for the clothes Dante had ordered for me. Even with him dressing me, would I stick out like a sore thumb at a fancy country club party?

  You didn’t with Clint, I reminded myself. But that had been different. I had been Clint’s boy toy, and there had been plenty of others like me there. We hadn’t had to pretend we were anything else.