Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Not that I had anything against ogling cute, barely-dressed guys, but I decided to set up our picnic at the other end of the park, under the shade of a big tree. That just seemed like it was more our speed.
After I spread out a blanket, I lifted Owen from his stroller, popped a bib around his neck, and opened the container of thinly sliced fruit I’d brought for him. I didn’t know why I’d bothered to put socks on his feet, because one had already vanished in the five minutes since we’d left the house. I plucked the other one off before settling in and unwrapping my sandwich.
Halfway through the meal, someone called, “Logan? Is that you?”
It took me a moment to place the tall, slender guy, in part because he was wearing a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses. But then it dawned on me, and I said, “Hi there, Sebastian. How are you?” I was actually surprised he’d recognized me, not just because I was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, but because we’d only spent a little time together the night we met at his boyfriend’s club.
“I’m doing great, thanks. It was way too pretty to stay inside.”
“Yeah, it really was.” He was holding a folding chair and a tote bag, and I said, “You’re welcome to join us. This is Owen.”
“Thanks. I was hoping to find a bit of shade, and here’s some with a new friend in it. That was lucky.” He set up the low sand chair beside me and smiled at Owen. Then he said, as he took off his hat and finger-combed his golden blond waves, “I didn’t know you were a nanny. That must be such a fun job.”
“Actually, I’m a daddy. Owen is my son.”
“Wow! I’ve had lots of guys tell me they’re daddies, but this is never what they meant.”
“I can imagine. So, do you live in the neighborhood?”
He nodded and pointed to the right. “My apartment’s about three blocks over. What about you?”
“I live a couple of blocks that way.” I pointed straight ahead. “It’s nice to know I have a friend in the neighborhood.” He beamed at me, and as he took a water bottle from his tote bag, I asked, “Have you lived in San Francisco a long time?”
“Almost three years. I’m originally from Nebraska, but I moved to L.A. because everyone told me that’s where I needed to be if I was serious about a modeling career. After about six months though, I landed a gig up here and fell in love with San Francisco. It was a great call.”
“Nice. I’m glad it’s worked out for you.”
I winced as he unpacked some plain rice cakes from his bag. I didn’t think he was watching me, but he grinned and said, “They’re not so bad. I like the fact that they’re crunchy.”
“My best friend is a former model, and he still eats those things, even though he hates them. Every time I see one, I think of him and feel bad.”
“He must be like me,” Sebastian said. “I know some guys who can eat anything they want. If I even think about food, I pack on five pounds.”
“It’s a tough line of work. I don’t think most people realize what models go through to look like that, and I have a lot of respect for the discipline it takes.”
He flashed me a perfect smile. “It’s sweet of you to say that.”
Hal had told me once that some models succeeded not because they were particularly attractive, but because they were interesting-looking. That was the category he put himself into, even though he was actually gorgeous. Sebastian was both. His features were almost foxlike, from his pointed chin to his sharp cheekbones and almond-shaped green eyes, and he was strikingly beautiful at the same time. He was dressed in a pristine white peasant shirt and shorts, along with strappy sandals, so he also looked like he’d just jetted in from the Mediterranean. Meanwhile, my jeans and T-shirt game needed work.
As we ate our lunch, he said, “I was hoping you’d come back that night after you ran off to the restroom, but I guess you weren’t feeling so good.”
“I felt awful, so Lucky took me home with him and made me some tea. He’s the guy I landed on when I fell off the stage.”
Sebastian turned to me and said, “Oh, I know who Lucky is. We actually hooked up once, but I don’t think he remembers. It was a couple of years ago, way before I met my sweetie Preston, obviously.”
Finding out they’d slept together was surprising, but it shouldn’t be. After all, they were both very attractive men, and the community centered around the Castro and its clubs was only so big.
Instead of making this about me, I told him, “It’s hard to believe anyone could forget you.” I wasn’t trying to flatter him, that was just an absolute fact.