The Pet Stylist and the Playboy Page 8

  I imagined coming in to work the next morning and finding Swish white and lifeless. Like he wasn’t important. Had no story to tell. Wasn’t the awesome person I knew he was.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered. “If you’d needed help, I could have gotten it for you.”

  Swish shook his head. He still didn’t meet my gaze. “I’d been through a lot. The foster homes—they weren’t nice places. I needed someone to care, and you gave me that.”

  God, I was going to fucking cry again. I wiped at my eyes.

  “All I’m trying to say is, you helped me. You were there for me when I didn’t have anyone. You saved my life. So, don’t beat yourself up just because you gave me a porn show one night ages ago. Would it help to know I beat myself off while you did it?”

  A choked laugh escaped my throat. “A little,” I admitted. Christ, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried, and here I’d done it twice in the last half hour.

  I nodded. “Okay. I’ll let it go.” I’d never forget I was a sub-par human being who put his own pleasure above everything else, though.

  As Swish started walking again, my eyes were drawn to his back.

  I gasped and grabbed him by the arm. “What the fuck...”

  Swish tried to turn around, but I wouldn’t let him.

  “Who did this?” I stared at the rows of white scars across the middle of his back. It looked like someone had laid into him with a whip or maybe the edge of a belt. They were old scars, but seeing those violent interruptions in his smooth, perfect skin made me want to rip something in two.

  Or someone.

  “Who did this?” I repeated, tone harsh.

  “One of my foster dads. A really long time ago.” Swish tried to pull out of my grip, but I held him in place. When he stilled, I ran a finger down each line in turn.

  “What was his name?” I could take it to the club. The Hedonists avoided violence, but sometimes, when the issue was close to home, we made exceptions.

  Swish jerked away and swung to face me. “It doesn’t matter.” He crossed his arms over his chest and gripped his upper arms with his hands as though trying to shield himself from my eyes.

  “It does matter,” I said evenly. He looked away, and I grabbed his chin, forcing his eyes to meet mine. “Someone hurt you, and I want a name.”

  “I wouldn’t even know where to find him,” Swish said.

  “Is his last name the same as yours?”

  Swish shook his head. “I use the surname Paul, but it’s my middle name. I don’t know my real last name.”

  “What’s the guy’s name, then?”

  Swish’s gaze narrowed. “What are you going to do if I give you a name?”

  I clenched my jaw. “I will go to where he lives, tie him up, and give him a taste of his own medicine. Hell, he could still be doing this to kids!”

  “No, he’s not. I’ve checked. He doesn’t take foster kids anymore. Please just leave it. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  I studied Swish for a long moment.

  “Please, Dante,” he whispered.

  I let out the breath I’d been holding, frustrated that I couldn’t give the asshole who’d hurt Swish what he deserved. I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt him. Slowly, I tugged Swish until he was pressed against my chest, my arms wrapped tightly around him. I felt his hands come to rest on my back.

  “It’s okay, Dante,” he said quietly, and then, “Shh, it’s okay. I’m okay.” It was then I realized I was crying.

  Again.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Swish

  Horrified, I looked at the tiny black kitten cradled in Deirdre’s hands. A slit ran all the way down its side, revealing the pink tissue and muscle beneath the black fur. The organs didn’t show or anything, thank God, but the tiny cat mewed pitifully.

  “Do you think he’ll be okay?” Deirdre asked, eyes wet with tears.

  To me, the injury looked horrible, but I didn’t want to upset Deirdre and Caleb, who stood behind her wringing his hands.

  “I’ll bet it was a raccoon,” Caleb said. “The kitten was in the prickly bushes when I found it. That probably saved it.”

  Deirdre looked around. “The stray cat we keep seeing must have a litter stashed away somewhere.” She transferred the kitten to my hands. I hated seeing any animal in pain, especially a tiny baby. If the kitten was suffering, he needed to be put down, and thinking about that made me even more upset.

  “Get something soft for me to wrap it in, and I’ll call Hugh,” I told her.

  Deirdre and Caleb disappeared inside the house, and I sat on the chair in the front yard, cradling the kitten on my lap while I dialed Hugh. After I explained the situation to him, he promised to be right out.

  “Don’t worry,” he told me, probably noticing the tremble in my voice. “It may look worse than it really is. Just keep it as comfortable as you can.”

  Deirdre and Caleb returned with a soft flannel baby blanket, and I carefully wrapped the kitten in it. It stopped mewling when I held it against my chest.

  Undoubtedly, Deirdre was right and the stray tabby we’d seen hanging around but had been unable to get close to had had a litter. I wondered if the raccoon had gotten to the others.

  “Why don’t you and Caleb look around for the rest of her kittens?” I suggested. “Maybe under the air conditioner.”

  Deirdre and Caleb headed around the house.

  August was half over, but the crescendo of cicadas buzzing promised long days of unrelenting heat for a while yet. At least, that’s what Gus said. I’d adjusted to the ebb and flow of adoptions that brought animals in and out of my life and learned to care without getting too attached. I appreciated each adoption as a new beginning for a deserving pet. We had every person interested in taking an animal sign a paper promising to bring the dog or cat back to us if things didn’t work out, and this happened occasionally. Just recently a family brought back a rat terrier mix named Banjo. The little dog hadn’t adapted well to any home we’d put him in, yet he remained relatively well-behaved at my house. So, I’d decided to adopt him myself. Banjo slept on my bed with me at night, and now he was sniffing curiously at something in the grass. A moment later, he reared back as a grasshopper shot upward. The little dog’s surprise was comical and fortunately gave the grasshopper time to get away.

  I hadn’t seen Dante other than from a distance since that emotional day when we’d gone swimming and wound up talking about my past. He’d been out to mow twice but hadn’t come to see me, and a part of me wondered if he’d been disgusted by what he’d seen. I knew he’d been angry on my behalf, but I couldn’t help but think that any attraction he might have felt for me recently had probably been drained by the sight of those scars. I hadn’t meant for him to see them, but he’d been so upset, and I’d forgotten. I shouldn’t have told him about my plans that night in the gas station bathroom, but I couldn’t let Dante brush away what he’d done for me that day as nothing.

  The sound of a car rolling up the driveway brought me out of my thoughts, and I looked up to see Hugh pulling his Kia under the trees.

  “That was quick,” I said to the kitten, being careful not to jostle it as I got to my feet.

  Hugh got out of the car, and I crossed the yard to meet him.

  “You sounded worried, so I hurried,” Hugh said.

  I unfolded the blanket, so Hugh could see the injured animal. After examining it, he said, “Looks like a clean tear in the hide. It’s so young, I don’t want to stitch it. A little surgical glue will hold it together while it mends.”

  “Really?” I looked up at him, unable to believe he hadn’t pronounced the kitten as good as dead.

  Hugh’s hazel eyes creased as he smiled. “Really. I told you it might look worse than it was.”

  He grabbed his bag from the passenger seat, and we walked inside the house, heading for my grooming room. I’d picked up a few more clients over the past few weeks, and one of them was in a crate awa
iting its owner. He barked at us when we entered.

  “Quiet, Sugar,” I said to the little Pekingese, and he wagged his tail before sitting on his haunches and licking his lips as though he expected us to have a treat.

  When Hugh pulled one out of his pocket, I laughed.

  “No wonder. I assume you always have treats with you.”

  Hugh smiled. “Guilty as charged.” He gave the treat to the dog. “He looks good. You did a great job on him.”

  I smiled. “Thanks. I’m getting better.”

  Carefully, Hugh took the kitten from me and laid it on a table on top of the blanket. After examining it more thoroughly, he before opening his bag. “It’s a boy. About three weeks old. Is the mother around?”

  “We’ve seen her, but she won’t come close. Will she still nurse him?”

  “You can make a safe place on the porch and see if she will, but if she won’t, I have some kitten formula and a small bottle in the trunk you can use. He’ll need to eat frequently.”

  “Do you think it was a raccoon that got him?”

  “Very likely. He was lucky to get away.”

  “Caleb found him in a prickly bush,” I said. “Deirdre and Caleb are out looking to see if there’s a litter somewhere.”

  I watched Hugh gently clean and patch up the kitten.

  “A cold drink before you go?” I asked when he began packing up his bag.

  “That sounds great.”

  We walked into the kitchen. I put ice in two glasses. Hugh was still holding the kitten, so I got a basket and blanket out of the closet before pouring lemonade for us.

  Hugh set the basket with the kitten in it on the old sideboard against the wall and took a seat at the table.

  “Dante out here today?” he asked, glancing to the window.

  “I don’t know. He hasn’t been coming around much.”

  “I’m not trying to get too personal, but is there something going on between the two of you?”

  Surprised at the question, I shook my head. Fuck, first Gus, and now Hugh? How obvious were my feelings for Dante?

  “We’re just friends.”

  Hugh smiled. “Then would you consider going out with me?”

  I hadn’t been expecting that. Hadn’t even realized Hugh was gay. He was a great guy, and definitely good-looking. Why wouldn’t I want to go out with him? Because of Dante? Dante was the reason why I should go out with Hugh.

  “Isaac?”

  I looked at Hugh.

  “It’s all right to turn me down. I’m a big boy. I can take rejection.”

  “No, I mean, yes, sure. I’d love to go out with you.”

  Hugh’s smile probably melted a lot of hearts, male and female. Mine, however, was immune to all but one particular smile that came with a small dimple at the corner.

  “Terrific. When’s best for you? I can do any night but Wednesday.”

  I thought about it. I always had a lot to do, and sometimes I stayed up late getting it all done. Several new animals had come in that week, adding to my chores, and I’d scheduled three clients to be groomed in the next few days. Added to all that, I now had an injured kitten to take care of.

  “This week’s a mess. Can we do it next week? Maybe Thursday?”

  Hugh pulled up his calendar on his phone. “That’ll work for me. I’ll pick you up at six, if that’s okay.”

  “Sounds good.”

  We talked about the animals while we finished our drinks. When Hugh left, I pushed thoughts of the impending date from my mind because thinking about it made me nervous. I took the dog blankets from the dryer, folded them, and stacked them on the shelf in the hall closet. Then I walked into the sunroom where five cats immediately swarmed me, rubbing themselves on my legs and purring loudly. I greeted each of them and proceeded to clean out their litter boxes—not my favorite job. The sun poured in the windows, and the cats gradually left me to take their places on the padded shelves built in along the panes.

  When I re-entered the kitchen, I jumped in alarm to find someone there.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” Dante said.

  “Holy shit! Call out to me next time. You about gave me a heart attack.”

  Dante had on one of his old pairs of jean shorts and a blue T-shirt that clung to his muscles and brought out the color of his eyes. His dark blond hair hung loose about his shoulders.

  “Haven’t seen you in a while,” I said. I didn’t know what to do with my hands, so I shoved them into my pockets. “What’s going on?”

  Dante looked different—a little closed-off—and again I thought about the scars he’d seen.

  “Sorry I haven’t been around, but I’ve been really busy. I, uh, came to tell you I’m going to mow the lawn a couple times in September, but other than that, I won’t be working for Gus anymore.”

  I should have been expecting the announcement, but my heart sank. “Oh. Okay.”

  Dante’s eyes kept wandering around the room like they couldn’t land on any one thing in particular.

  He licked his lips. “I meant what I said before—I don’t want us to lose touch. I’m always gonna be here for you if you need me. I—I just won’t be around much at first.”

  “What are you going to be doing?”

  Dante glanced at me. “New job.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  Dante nodded. “Sure.”

  “Something exciting?”

  Dante snorted. “Hardly. I’m going to work full-time with my father. I’ll be busy for a while, but you’ve got my number. I don’t want you to hesitate to call me if you need me, got it?” He seemed to be in a hurry to leave.

  “I’ll be okay,” I said. “I’ve got Gus, and I’m making friends.”

  “Sure, I know. I just don’t want you to feel like I’m abandoning you.”

  “You aren’t responsible for me, Dante.”

  We stood several feet apart, me just inside the doorway and him leaning against the sink, but it felt like miles. Whether Morgan had been right or wrong about Dante being attracted to me, I’d known this moment would come. I couldn’t imagine what my life was going to be like without him in it.

  Dante swallowed, Adam’s apple dipping in his tanned neck. He pushed off the sink. “I guess I’d better go.” He started for the door, and I panicked.

  “Dante?”

  He turned around, and I rushed to him and wrapped my arms around him. He was warm and solid and smelled like fresh sweat and cut grass. “Thank you,” I said into his shoulder.

  Dante squeezed me hard before letting me go and walking out of the kitchen. I slumped dejectedly against the table, feeling like I hadn’t the energy to hold myself up. Before I’d had time to think about what had just happened, Dante strode back into the room. Without saying a word, he took my face in his hands and kissed me tenderly on the lips. I couldn’t breathe, I was so stunned. He pulled back and looked me in the eyes for a few long seconds.

  Then he left for real.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Dante

  God, my life was miserable. Besides spending all day, every day, working with my father, my mother was needling me about finding a future wife.

  Fuck, I just wanted to turn back time. I missed the clubhouse, and even though I was crazy tired at the end of the work week, as soon as I got off on Saturday afternoons, I drove to the Bronx and stayed in my old room until late Sunday night when I had to go back to East Hampton. I was going to have to get my own place, but I was dragging my feet because it would feel so permanent.

  Swish was on my mind a lot. I texted him every so often, asking how he was doing, but his answers were always short. I was beginning to think he didn’t want to talk to me. I had blurted out I was going to work for my father and then left before he could question me. Of course, there had been that soul-crushing hug Swish had given me, and then I hadn’t been able to get more than a few steps down the hall before turning back and kissing him, just once.

  Unfortunately, th
at had done nothing to sate my attraction to him. If anything, the feel of his lips against mine had only deepened it.

  The one bright spot in all this was that I was putting away money for Swish to be able to go to culinary school. I hoped he would be excited enough when I told him, that he’d accept the gift for what it was. If I could make a difference in his life, I’d feel like I’d done something with mine.

  I showered after work on Thursday, hoping to have a quick dinner with my parents and then head to bed. Fortunately, my suite of rooms was on the other side of the house from theirs, or I’d be scrambling to find a place of my own. As it was, I really only saw them when we ate meals together, something my mother had always insisted upon. Of course, I saw my father all day, every week day at work. There was no avoiding that.

  When I came down the stairs, dressed in khaki slacks, a pink button-down shirt, and Italian loafers, because my parents insisted upon always dressing for dinner, I came to a halt on the bottom step when I realized we had company.

  “Dante, there you are,” my mother said, turning away from a young, blond woman and looking at me. “This is Margaret, the girl I’ve been telling you about.”

  My mother told me about a different girl daily, so I had no idea which one of them Margaret was, but I smiled at the girl. She was short, blond, and pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way.

  “Hello, Margaret. Nice to meet you,” I said.

  “Please call me Maggie. No one calls me Margaret unless I’m in trouble.”

  She seemed like a nice person, and it wasn’t her fault my mother insisted on springing women on me when I least expected it, so I told myself to be nice and get the meal over with.

  My father appeared from down the hallway.

  “I made reservations for you two at the club, Dante. If you leave now, you’ll be right on time.”

  Annoyance settled over me. Bad enough they’d invited company for dinner without telling me, but they’d set up a date? I could argue. Tell my father I didn’t want to eat at the country club and that he had some nerve making plans for me. But what good would it do? I’d moved back home. Saying anything about it now wouldn’t do anyone any good.