Boy Toy

by Jenny Gardiner

Zoey pursed her lips in thought. “I’m not sure if he’s a player, per se. It’s more like after his fiancée ditched him, he was pretty bitter. The last thing on his mind was a relationship with a woman. I think he basically worked his way through every eligible woman on holiday here for a good year.”

  “Ewww. Let’s hope he wore a condom.”

  Zoey rolled her eyes. “For any number of reasons. But, yeah, I don’t think he’s the kind of guy who deliberately uses a woman, necessarily, but I think he’s gun-shy. He was pretty devastated when Gretchen bailed on him—he took it personally.”

  Izzy rolled her eyes. “In his defense, how could you not? I mean it’s not like he got turned down for a job he was interviewing for. He’d already done the legwork, they’d made the wedding plans, it was all systems go, and she chickened out? I’d take that personally too!”

  “My point is I don’t think you should be scurrying down to the courthouse for your wedding license or anything. Even if Sully thinks you’re the greatest thing to hit the plains since the buffalo, I can pretty much assure you he’s going to need a lot of time before he is on board with trusting a woman and allowing himself to be part of a couple. Consider yourself warned.”

  “To think I drove all the way here to marry him.” She gave her friend a wink and paid cash for her boots.

  Chapter Five

  Sully mounted the four flights of steps to get to Harry’s rooftop, guitar and Blizzard in tow. Blizzard had started this rather annoying habit of yowling like a woman in the throes of labor, and he hoped he didn’t choose to show off his doleful cry while he was playing tonight. You could say it was a cute thing, but it was annoying as hell.

  He hated to draw attention to himself and having your dog make a scene would definitely do that. Hell, even today, that woman made a damned scene about the dog, but it was directed at Sully, big-time, and he hated that. Especially since he was innocent on all charges. That sort of thing lingered with him, and he kept alternating between feeling embarrassed and being ticked at that woman for accusing him.

  But he needed to clear his head and get ready to perform. What happened earlier today was over and done with, and dwelling on it wasn’t going to help him put on a good show. He walked out onto the rooftop bar and was greeted by a throng of people. He stood there, feet planted, eyes darting left and right, first off wondering how he was going to make his way through the crowd with his guitar (not to mention his pup), and second, what the hell? It was a Wednesday night for God’s sake. Granted the season was picking up and with it the crowds. But this was like nothing he’d experienced since he’d started playing here. He even saw a couple of reporters interspersed in the crowd. Weird.

  He angled himself sideways and started shouldering his way through the mass of people. Out of nowhere, things got bizarrely quiet, and the crowd parted ways for him. Someone squealed, and a woman with a high-pitched voice shouted out, “There he is!” and the next thing he knew all of these women were shouting out his name. His eyes grew wide. Wondering what the fuck was going on, he continued to press toward the front of the bar area where he knew a stool and a mic awaited him. There he could regroup and try to figure out what was the deal.

  Except that women were reaching for him—like touching him as if he were Michael Jackson, or maybe Jesus—hollering his name and trying to get a piece of him. At long last, he saw Angie, the bar manager, who reached out a hand and pulled him toward the front.

  His eyes still wide open in stupefaction, he kept shaking his head.

  “What—”

  “Well, well, well, Mr. Magnanimous,” Angie said with a broad grin. “Bet you didn’t expect this.” She spread her arms out wide.

  “Mr. Magnanimous?” He scrunched his brows, his back deliberately turned to the crowd as he reached his stool.

  She nodded. “Um, rumor has it you’re holding some sort of contest to give away an engagement ring?”

  When he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out. Reaching for Blizzard, he squatted down to give him a hug.

  “What hell hath you unleashed?” She elbowed him in the ribs as he stood up.

  He shook his head. “Ch-rist. Goes to show no good deed goes unpunished. Please, Angie, I beg of you: save me from these women. And the reporters. The whole thing.”

  She pulled him back behind the far end of the bar to keep women from pushing in toward him. “So was this an impulse thing?”

  He stared, absentmindedly shaking his head. “I sure as hell didn’t plan on this.” He heaved a sigh. “I wanted to do something nice.”

  “And now you’ve got a fan club that wants to express their unrequited gratitude for your munificence.”

  He cocked a brow at Angie, who had the weathered face of a woman who’d lived a hard life. In her defense, maybe it was the face of a woman who’d spent her whole life outside and the sun had beaten her to shit. And her brittle gray hair, braided in a ponytail that reached her butt, added to that narrative in his head. But she hadn’t ever struck him as the kind of woman to use a word like that.

  “Munificence? Now we’re using ten-dollar words? I might have to open up my dictionary app to see what that even means.”

  She glared at him. “What would you like me to say, smart-ass?”

  He grinned. “Stupidity, maybe?”

  She laughed. “Yeah, that seems to go without saying. So why did you decide to do something so public?”

  He shrugged. “Hell, I didn’t think of it as public as much as casting a broad net. I wanted to be inclusive. Not launch a casting call for ‘who wants to date the schmuck who didn’t realize giving away an engagement ring would put a fucking bull’s-eye on his head.’”

  Angie reached into the cooler and grabbed a can of Sully’s go-to beers, a Going to the Sun IPA.

  “You want it in a frosted glass?”

  He cocked his head toward her and smirked. “Me? You know I’m not one for pretenses, Ang. But I might need a second one in about five minutes.” He grabbed the beer and took a long, hard swig. “If I’m going to have to face this crowd like I’m some sort of teen heartthrob for all of these supposedly swooning women, I’m definitely gonna need more than one of these.”

  Angie let out a long, fake sigh. “You’re like Bristol’s very own Justin Bieber!”

  “Thanks. Minus the bad boy behavior.”

  “There’s still time.” She winked at him.

  “Is there still time to maybe reverse the clock and change my mind about the manner in which I plan to unload this stupid albatross of a ring?”

  She put her arm over his shoulder. “Ahhh... You think of it as a ring, but it’s so much more than that.”

  “Do tell.”

  “See, at first it was a symbol of betrothal. Of your love and commitment to the woman you chose to spend the rest of your life with.”

  “So it’s a sign of stupidity.”

  She held up a finger. “No. Now, hear me out.”

  He shook his head. “Fine. But you’d better be fast. I’m supposed to start in a few minutes.”

  “I’ll make this quick. So when what’s-her-name did what she did—”

  “She-who-shall-not-be-named.”

  Angie nodded. “Yes, her. So, her leaving you meant that the ring then morphed into so much more. A symbol of betrayal, of loss, of hurt. It went from being a thing of such beauty to a thing of contempt.”

  He nodded. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. This is why I’m trying to unload it. Although I should’ve chucked it into the river to be done with it.”

  “But this is where the symbolism gets even better. Because you didn’t do that. See, you’re a man of great wealth. Throwing that ring into the river would have been easy for you to do. You didn’t need that money back, whereas for most people, that represents a large chunk of change that they spend years saving for. Either that or going into hock for.”

  He nodded. “I know, I know. I can’t help it I didn’t have to suffer financially f
or it.”

  “I’m not blaming you—I’m explaining why these women”—she pointed out to the shoulder-to-shoulder packed crowd—“all went out of their way to come here. It’s because of you. You, who could’ve trashed the ring, decided to return the ring to its original emotional luster as it were. You are, to all of these women—not to mention, I’d presume, to a crapton of women across the world right now—a good guy. Like it or not, you now represent the best of your gender.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “Fact is, if I were twenty years younger, I’d be out there swooning for you too.”

  His eyes grew large again. “That’s quite a burden to carry. I’m not the saint they think I am.”

  “Maybe not a saint, but you’re likely a far cry better than the guys they’re used to. And that means a lot to a lot of women.” She swatted his butt affectionately. “Now get out there and give those ladies what they want.”

  He laughed. “I’m afraid I don’t have enough sexual stamina to give them what they want.”

  She winced. “I’m afraid your days of slipping off with the tourist du jour are gone for now too.”

  He nodded slowly, the reality of that dawning on him. “Well, crap. There is that. Although to be honest it was starting to feel a little hollow.”

  “Maybe that’s a sign it’s time to put yourself out there again.”

  “In a sea of this?” He nodded toward the crowd. “I might have to join a monastery if this doesn’t go away soon.”

  “Somehow, I suspect a lifetime of celibacy isn’t in the cards for you.”

  It was his turn to wince. “Good Lord, no. I’m going to have to find a regular booty call, some woman not looking for commitment but only a means to an end.”

  “Like you said, might be time for a monastery. Now go sing about heartbreak and unrequited love and make those ladies cry.”

  “Will you give me an armed escort out of here later on?”

  She flexed her guns. “How about a well-armed bartender manager. I can fend off aggressive women for you. I earned these biceps with years of chopping firewood, clearing brush, working my farm.”

  “You’re looking more like my kinda gal by the minute, Ang.” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

  Chapter Six

  “Holy cannoli.” Izzy had trudged up four flights of steps, trying to keep up with Zoey, who was evidently in much better shape now that she was working on Tanner’s ranch instead of killing herself at Soul Cycle in West Hollywood. Note to self... maybe you get even more fit living an outdoor life in the middle of nowhere. When they got to the top of the steps, they were confronted with a crowd of primarily women who blocked the way to even get to the bar.

  Izzy scrunched her brows. “I had no idea this town was so popular. I mean it’s a Wednesday night for goodness’ sakes.”

  “Wait a sec—Tanner sent me a text.” Zoey held up her phone and read it, then nodded. “Oh my God. This—” She extended her arms. “This is all because of that ring thing.”

  Realization dawned on Izzy. Of course. She wouldn’t be the only woman charmed by the altruistic gesture of a scorned man. Well, crap. There goes any chance of meeting Mr. Perfect.

  “Sooo... Guess this means me and Ring Man aren’t going to—” She crossed her fingers in a sign of intimacy.

  Zoey shook her head. “Sweetie, Izzy. You didn’t honestly think you were going to drive up here and have sex with the man and everything would be great, did you?”

  Izzy frowned. “Well, no. But there is this fantasy version of reality that would make the whole meet-cute-slash-end-up-together thing happen, you know? I mean it happens in movies all the time.”

  Zoey shook her head. “You’ve been living in Los Angeles for too long.”

  “Seriously. I did not expect I’d go in for the kill with the man the minute I met him. But I had imagined that since you guys were friends, we’d sit here and enjoy listening to him play, and when he was done, we’d all have drinks together and laugh and I’d charm him with my witty banter and he’d invite me out on a date for tomorrow and we’d have so much fun at dinner he’d invite me back to his place where we would decidedly not sleep together. I mean nothing wrong with that, but I don’t want to blow this by being too forward, you know? But maybe we’d make out, like a lot, and maybe get a little handsy, but in a good way, and we’d have another date or two and sure, eventually we’d hook up—but not in a hookup way but in a romantic way—and next thing you know we’d be dating exclusively and who knows where that would lead.”

  Zoey stood there, staring at her friend, eyes wide open.

  “You’re in need of a good man in your life, aren’t you?”

  Izzy frowned. “I don’t know, Zoey. I’m kind of lonely. And tired of loser-type guys who aren’t date material, let alone boyfriend material.”

  “I understand, I do,” her friend said. “But let’s set aside your rom-com fantasies about this and can you just be you—the normal, sweet, fun, vivacious, and kind-of-weird you and not this desperate-seeming harpy who wants to win the prize?”

  “Harpy? I think I’m insulted.”

  “You know what I mean. I don’t mean harpy in a bad way. I mean turn off the aggressive ‘must have man now’ thing and be Izzy. If and when you meet, let things transpire organically. Don’t try to force it.”

  Izzy heaved a sigh. “Okay, I know it. You’re so right about this. I have totally lost perspective. We might be completely incompatible and here I am being all ‘he’s my perfect dream guy.’ He might even have bad breath. Or creepy sexual fetishes. Maybe he’s one of those guys who shaves his legs—I totally couldn’t do that. I dated a cyclist once and I’m sorry, but I like hair on a guy’s legs.”

  Zoey palmed her friend’s face. “You are so weird. Look, let’s try to work our way somewhere within listening distance so we can hear his music and then figure out meeting up with Sully when we can, ’kay? Tanner’s saving us seats but it might be a while till we can get anywhere near them because he’s up front. In the meantime, our best move is to try to get to the bar. At least then we can drink.”

  “A few well-placed elbows would help us to get to where we need to be.”

  “Yeah, but that would be part of the man-killer mentality you’re trying to avoid, remember?”

  “Right. I forgot for a minute.”

  “Oh, but, look.” She pointed toward the mountains, with the late-day sun painting them in a wash of melon hues. “This is one of the reasons I love it here so much.”

  Izzy took in the skyline—a far different skyline from what she was used to back home. And admittedly it had far more appeal and much less smog.

  “At first, I wondered about you moving here,” she said. “But I am starting to get it. This place isn’t LA, for sure, but it’s got a whole lot that LA can’t even compete with.”

  “Like a moose while you’re drinking coffee.”

  “Yeah, that. And I’m telling you I’d better see a mother bear and her babies while I’m here or I’ll feel robbed.”

  Zoey nodded. “It is something to behold. From a safe distance, that is.”

  “Dude. I can handle the men of LA. I think I can take on a baby grizzly.”

  The two laughed as they reached the edge of the bar. Zoey caught the eye of someone behind the bar.

  “Angie—what a sight for sore eyes! Any chance you can grab us a couple of beers? My friend Izzy just got into town and needs to decompress from her type A existence.”

  Angie grinned.

  “I’ve got a feeling half the women here are doing the same thing. While they wait for their Prince Charming to take a break so they can charm him with their feminine wiles.”

  Izzy decided to keep her mouth shut about her original intent for this road trip. It had been foolish at best to think this was a good idea. Instead she would relax and enjoy her time in Bristol, listen to some good music, and hopefully see a family of grizzlies before she returned to the dating rat race back home.

&
nbsp; Just then she heard the singer—Sully, what was his last name? Forester? Yes, Sully Forester—whose haunting voice was so darned smooth and soft and gentle and sexy. It was the kind of voice that seduced you, made love to you, like John Mayer’s, a little playful, very seductive. Wow. If she was not going to be smitten by him, she could at least be smitten by his voice. She closed her eyes and took in the song about a love that didn’t last, about the pain of losing but the hope of getting over it. Hopeful. That’s what she heard in his voice: a sense of buoyant optimism in the face of heartache. She loved the encouragement behind his words. It felt like a message she needed to listen to. So what that she came here for a superficial purpose. Now that she was here, she’d absorb the surroundings, enjoy time with her girl, and not worry about forcing her bizarre temporary insanity plan into action.

  She’d meet the guy sooner or later, no big deal. Even if they didn’t hit it off on that level, she was sure they’d have a perfectly fine time hanging with Zoey and Tanner for the evening if that’s what happened. It was all good.

  Chapter Seven

  Sully was not one to enjoy crowds. They made him antsy, especially on the roof of a building and tempted him to climb over the edge and take a flying leap. The only salvation was that up here in front of the hordes of mostly women, there was an invisible no-go line and he could hold them at bay. He was deathly afraid that the minute he decided to take a break, they would violate that unspoken space delineator and go in for the kill. God, he needed another beer.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Tanner off to the side, covetously guarding two other chairs, despite the steady stream of strangers who kept trying to filch them. The upside of being a local meant you didn’t care who wanted your seat; if you were saving it for your significant other, it was, for all intents and purposes, reserved. Yet he wondered who the third was for. Those two were usually together thick as thieves on their own. In between songs, he had the brilliant idea to text Tanner to save him from the mob. In most cases, Sully would have been fine if one woman was after him. He’d gladly take advantage of the moment as long as the feeling was mutual. But all those women were sort of scaring him.