A Reluctant Boy Toy (Men of St. Nacho's #3) - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,1
did.” He nodded. “And we’re not putting you closer, actually, but a smidge farther away.”
“A smidge? Moving’s a lot of bother to go to for a smidge. I have kennels set up, training equipment. Even a goddamn canine beauty bar. You seriously expect me to move all that?”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I set you up in that location before anyone told me I’d need to put Sebastian Keye’s rig precisely half a mile from any others.” He lifted his hands. “Totally my bad. You’re about seven-tenths of a mile out. To put him half a mile from everyone else, I’ll need you at least three-tenths of a mile farther away.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” No way. “You want me to break the equipment down and pack it, then close up the rig and move it, all for three-tenths of a mile? Are you sure you can’t simply tell them we’re already half a mile away? Can’t you finesse it?”
“Not for Keye. His PA says it’s a dealbreaker. He’ll probably get his personal guru or whoever to measure the distance to make sure. He needs ‘complete privacy”—he rolled his eyes—”unless he’s actively working.”
“Jesus Christ.” Guess I knew what I’d be doing that morning.
“Exactly. Apparently Mr. Keye thinks he’s the second coming.” He widened his eyes. “You did not hear that from me.”
“Hear what?”
“That Sebastian Keye thinks—”
“You’re still so easy.” I punched his arm lightly. “Okay then. I’m Oscar Mike.”
“Give me a few minutes, and I can have someone relocate everything for you,” he offered. “I promise the new site will be nicer than the one you have. Closer to the ocean, plenty of shade. More privacy even. Hand to God.”
“It’s fine. I’d appreciate help moving the kennels, but Morrigan’s in my rig. I left it locked but tell them not to enter the motorhome without me.” As an emotional support animal, Morrigan normally went everywhere at my side, but filming was a special case. We couldn’t allow any distractions for Hades and Persephone, so she stayed behind to guard our place while they worked. “Tell him to send me a map.”
“Thank you,” said Deacon. “It’s one disaster after another around here, but somehow, we always find beauty in the wreckage.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
The golden boy was going to have to live within three-tenths of a mile from me until we could get things moved. I tossed what was left of my coffee on the ground and whistled for Hades and Seph. They approached me for direction, but my mind went completely blank when Sebastian Keye emerged from the town car.
Keye was lean. Compact. Barely taller than the woman with him after he stretched to his full height. His hair was shoulder length, sleek, and silver like moonlight.
He wore a Henley over low-slung jeans with a wide leather belt and unlaced combat boots. He had one lean muscled arm wrapped around his waist. The other hung loosely by his side. He glanced around the clearing, letting his gaze drift until it landed on Hades and Persephone. As if it was a scene in the show, Hades and Persephone stilled warily and watched him in return. He’d probably been told not to make eye contact with my hybrids, but he ignored the advice as they sized one another up.
Strangely enough, Hades and Seph didn’t seem to mind.
Neither issued a warning growl, and eventually Keye looked away. He slipped on a completely unnecessary pair of mirrored aviator shades, put in a set of AirPods, and—for all intents and purposes—disappeared behind a wall of sensory deprivation.
How very like a real-world wolf.
Sebastian Keye had learned to hide in plain sight.
Had he grown up in Hollywood where people lived and died by appearances? Where they bought and sold humans like commodities for entertainment, for sport, and for sex?
Had he learned that beauty like his was a magnet for predators?
Had he learned the hard way as most beautiful creatures did?
I see you, little wolf.
If Keye wisely kept a half-mile distance between himself and the world, if he employed the chatty PA, the shades, the AirPods, and the attitude—all of which said don’t fuck with me—it meant he was smarter than most.
I saw Keye’s demand for privacy as self-preservation.
If he needed to keep a distance between his trailer and the rest of the cast and crew because he didn’t feel safe, I couldn’t fault him for it any more than I could blame Seph for growling at Gina Kelleher when she’d loomed over Seph’s head.