Exasperating

What he craves is attention.

Calder Seton is an unapologetic manwhore. Former Texas Ranger turned private security agent for Elite, he’s an expert at keeping his heart to himself. His employer wishes he’d do the same for his body. Calder has a habit of sleeping with Elite’s clients and they’ve told him to keep it in his pants or find a new job. That’s fine with Calder. He has a new playmate anyway, virginal actor Robby Shaw.

Robby Shaw spent most of his life sheltered from the world until he lands a role in an LA kid’s show and becomes the fake boyfriend of A-list actor, Elijah Dunne. When that relationship ends in humiliation and heartache, Robby meltdowns epically, landing him in county lockup and on the radar of Calder Seton, who he hasn’t seen in over a month.

A sizzling hookup leaves both Robby and Calder questioning their life choices, and when Robby’s life is threatened, Calder doesn’t hesitate to step in, free of charge. Unfortunately, Robby hires Elite before he can volunteer, putting himself on Calder’s list of untouchables until they can solve a murder.

The rules of Romancelandia state only a virgin can tame a manwhore, but both Robby and Calder have a pile of baggage and everything from a cult to anonymous killers standing in their way. Can they find a way to heal from their pasts so they can have a future?

Warning: This book references past childhood abuse.

Robby Shaw cracked open one raw, swollen eye, trying to make sense of the images swimming into view around him. Everything was a swirl of lights that made him want to hurl. Also, somebody wouldn’t stop screaming. It was relentless. His arms and legs were leaden. He tried to move, but everything hurt. His exposed skin stuck to the vinyl beneath him. It smelled like vomit, or maybe he did. Why did his throat feel like he’d gargled razor blades? Where was he?

He forced himself to focus. He was in a car. He could feel the vibrations of the tires over the road, and his whole body jumped with every imperfection in the asphalt. He was on his stomach, one leg smooshed up against the door, the other on the floorboard. A black grate separated him from a shadowy figure in the driver’s seat. Was he in a cab? It smelled like a cab. Another wave of nausea rolled over him, and he shivered as he forced himself not to throw up. 

“Let me out,” he mumbled over the screaming. “I’ll walk home.” 

“Nice try, kid. Go back to sleep. We’ll be there soon.” 

“Let me out,” he demanded, his voice a hoarse shout. 

“Kid, are you looking to get tazed again? Relax.” 

He fumbled for his phone in the pocket of his jeans, smiling when he realized his kidnappers had missed it. He freed it with effort, managing to unlock it with his thumbprint. He pressed the top number, still his emergency contact, and hoped he’d believe him. 

The phone rang…and rang…and rang. Robby’s heart sank. He was going to die in this smelly vinyl box surrounded by screaming. But then, “‘lo?” 

“Eli?” 

The sound of rustling made Robby pull his phone away, and then a sleepy-sounding Elijah said, “Robby? What’s wrong? It’s, like”—a yawn broke his speech—“four in the morning?” 

Robby’s brain fought to put words together, wanting to get the important stuff out first. “Kidnapped. I don’t know where I am. I can’t see anything. Can’t move. So much screaming. I need you to save Casanova.” 

“Your dog? Robby? Have you been drinking? Where are you? You don’t sound good. Is that a police siren? Tell me where you are, and I’ll find somebody to come get you.” 

He didn’t want somebody. He wanted a friend. “You, come get me. Please. You owe me.” 

Elijah’s tone held just enough pity to twist the knife in Robby’s heart. “Babe, I live hours away now, remember? Tell me where you are, and I’ll get you some help? Do you need a lawyer? An ambulance?” 

His heart sank. Elijah was married now. Married to that ginger psycho. They lived in the mountains far away. “Save my dog. Just do that. I don’t care what happens to me. I probably deserve it.” 

He dropped his phone without hanging up and rolled over, burying his face in the crack of the smelly seat. He just wanted to sleep. He’d deal with his kidnappers later. Or maybe not at all. He didn’t much care either way. He didn’t care about anything really, just Casanova. The thought of his ugly dog made him think of the man he’d named him after. A long-haired, tattooed stranger who’d studied him during the worst day of his life, giving him ‘fuck me’ eyes in a room full of men in suits. He drifted with a smile on his face. If he was going to die, at least he had that memory.

Robby woke again to a sound like somebody ringing a bell before a boxing match. He scraped bleary eyes open to find a police officer staring at him from behind a set of iron bars. “Up and at ‘em, pussycat. You made bail.” 

Robby groaned as he sat up, the world tilting on its axis until he thought he would vomit. He gripped his head and whimpered. What the hell had happened last night? He tried to recall even a single thing, but it was a giant black hole in his memory. “Bail?” 

The officer scoffed. “Yeah, the money you pay to be released from jail after you’ve made an ass out of yourself.” 

“I didn’t call anybody,” Robby said, not entirely sure how true that statement was. 

The cop chuckled. “Kid, you called everybody. By the time we’d gotten you to the station, you were ten seconds away from asking the tabloids to bail you out. Don’t you have a manager? A lawyer? You’re famous. Don’t leagues of suits follow you around so you don’t do something stupid…like this?” 

Something withered inside Robby. He had all of those things. It was about all he had really. Suddenly, a memory flashed through his head. Elijah. He’d called Elijah. Had Elijah come to bail him out? His heart soared at the thought, crashing and burning at a different question. Had he brought Shepherd? “Who…”

“I did, Obidiah.” 

That voice… It couldn’t be. He never would have called him. “I didn’t call you.” 

“Of course, you didn’t. The police did. I’m still your father.” 

Robby drew his knees up to his chest and circled his arms around them. The man—Jebidiah—examined him as if he could see inside, see Robby’s intentions. It was strange seeing him again after three years, but he looked much the same. He still wore those same black trousers, the same white collared shirt buttoned all the way to the top. His brown beard was more salt than pepper, and his hair was thinning at the top. The only difference Robby could see was how the lines around his eyes and forehead had deepened to grooves from hard labor under the sun. 

“You’re not my father. You said so yourself.” He looked to the officer. “Give him back his money. I’ll just stay here if it’s all the same to you.” 

“Kid, we can’t keep this jail cell closed just for you all day. Just ‘cause he posted your bail doesn’t mean you’re required to go with him. But I highly recommend you not stay here. You spent the night calling a lot of people in your drunken stupor. I can only imagine the amount of press outside. I suggest you overlook this little family squabble and maybe take the back exit.” 

Robby’s blood curdled at the idea of accepting anything from that man, but if he could get to his wallet, he would pay him back and then he could walk away. For good. He sighed, forcing himself to his feet, only then becoming aware of the coolness around his midsection. He stumbled to the sink in the corner, splashing water in his face before looking at himself in the shiny metal surface that acted as a mirror. He frowned at his reflection. 

His caramel-colored hair stood up in all directions. The skin around his hazel eyes appeared puffy and swollen, his eyes themselves bloodshot. He had a split lip and blood on his earlobe. He wore tight black jeans with rips down the front, leaving his skin peeking through, and white high-top Versace sneakers, but it was his top that left him racking his addled brain. He wore a black crop top hoodie that said ‘meow’ in large white letters. The sleeves were long, revealing little pink and white paw prints where they hooked over his thumbs. Had he been wearing this when he left the house last night? There was no way. 

He stared at his exposed midriff and the two black stars now tattooed on his hip bones. Those had definitely not been there yesterday. Fuck. He dug his palms into his eye sockets, desperate to remember anything. Anything at all. But there was nothing. He sighed, turning away from the mirror, cringing as the officer gave him a once over and a smirk. He walked past his father without a word, refusing to acknowledge his presence just as he’d done to Robby three years ago. 

They stopped at the desk where a pretty uniformed woman with deep umber skin and wild black curls handed him a large clear plastic bag with his belongings, a slightly star-struck look on her face. He smiled at her, and she smiled back reflexively. “Thank you,” he managed. 

Once in the lobby, he freed his phone from the bag to call Jasmine, his publicist. She was the closest thing he had to a friend. 

“Obi, at least let me drop you at your apartment.” 

He didn’t want that man knowing where he lived. He opened his wallet and found his debit card, walking to the ATM in the corner of the precinct. “How much do I owe you?” 

“It’s not about the money. Come back to the compound with us. We can talk. All of us. Your brothers and sisters miss you.” 

“You haven’t worried about me for years. Nothing’s changed, Father.” 

He saw his father step closer from the corner of his eye, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “But it has. Your mother saw you…with that girl. She seemed a bit loose of morals, but we are willing to take her into the fold. We’re just so happy—”

Robby’s lip curled as he cut his father off, raising his voice high enough to draw the attention of the few stragglers milling around. “Happy about what? Happy that I’m heterosexual? Well, plot twist. I’m not. I was just…experimenting. I’m still super gay, Father. Lots of gay sex. All the time. Can’t get enough dick.”

His father’s face flushed an unhealthy red. He snatched Robby’s arm, shaking him hard, saliva flying from his mouth as he spit his words at him. “That’s enough. I will not stand here and listen to such…filth.” 

Robby shook his father off his arm. “Go home. There’s nothing for you here.” He withdrew the maximum the ATM allowed and stuffed it into his father’s hand. “We’re done now. Leave me alone.” 

“Wait—” his father started. 

A shrill female voice cut him off as she hurried down the hallway from parts unknown. “Robby? Oh, thank God. We thought for sure somebody would have made you their bitch by now.” 

Robby blinked at the dark-haired girl running toward him with purpose, taking in her black leather romper, red suede thigh-high boots, and obviously fake red fur coat. She looked vaguely familiar. Her companion more so. “Wyatt?” he asked. 

Wyatt gave a half-wave, his smile almost shy. “Hey. Elijah asked us to come rescue you from prison.” 

Robby’s heart skipped a bit. “He did?”

It wasn’t Wyatt that answered, but the girl. Wyatt’s best friend…Magellen? Charlemagne. Charlie. Her name was Charlie. He narrowed his eyes as she spoke as if that might help him focus on her words. “Yeah, he said you’d been kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?” 

“Yeah, said you asked him to rescue Casanova and that you’d been kidnapped. It took hours for us to track you down. All we knew was that you were probably being arrested.” 

Casanova. “What time is it?” He scrambled for his phone. “Oh, God. It’s four o’clock in the afternoon. Casanova needs his meds. He needs to eat. He’s…delicate. Oh, God. He’s been alone for hours.” 

Robby could feel the tears coming, and the last thing he wanted was to fall apart in front of his father and two virtual strangers. 

Wyatt put an arm around him, squeezing him in a side hug. “Hey, relax. Linc sent somebody to rescue Casanova after Elijah’s phone call. Don’t let anybody in here see you fall apart. It will be all over the news.” 

Charlie crowded his other side, effectively blocking him from the onlookers. “Are you ready to leave? We have a car waiting out back. We’ll take you to Linc’s office so you can get your dog, okay?” 

He gave a nod, sagging against Wyatt. To his credit, the older boy didn’t let go, just steered him towards the hallway, which turned out to be the station’s back entrance. 

“Obidiah, we aren’t finished with this conversation,” his father shouted, following behind but not closely. 

“Obidiah?” Charlie and Wyatt repeated at the same time. 

“That’s not my name. Not anymore. Not ever again,” Robby snapped. “We are finished, Jeb. Go home.” 

Robby refused to look back. He let Wyatt and Charlie shuttle him into the back of a large SUV. She slammed the door, knocking on the glass that separated them and the driver. As soon as the car lurched into motion, Robby sagged back against the seat, feeling like somebody had exposed every nerve in his body, leaving him raw.

“That’s some outfit you got there, kitty cat,” Charlie said before hissing and meowing. 

“I don’t think anybody dressed like a mobster’s mistress gets to point fingers at my fashion choices,” Robby managed, not even bothering to open his eyes. 

Charlie snickered. “Oh, kitty’s got claws. I like it. You’re way more fun since Elijah broke your heart.” 

Robby tried to ignore the way said heart squeezed, a sudden knot forming in his throat. It wasn’t Elijah, not really. It was all of it. His pounding head, his burning eyes, seeing his father standing there after all that time, his fear for his dog. The fact that the only people who had come to his rescue were two people he barely knew. He’d never felt so utterly alone…and so very tired. 

“Charlie!” Wyatt snapped.

“What? Are we just supposed to pretend all of this is normal? We just rescued our friend’s ex-boyfriend from prison where he’s dressed like an underage male prostitute and talking to a dude who looked like he should be holding a sickle for a little kid named Malachi in some Nebraska cornfield. I have a lot of questions, so let’s just confront the Elijah-shaped elephant in the car. Is this Miley level meltdown really because Elijah broke your heart?” 

To Robby’s horror, the sob he’d been holding back escaped. He pressed his fist to his lips but it was too late. Tears welled in his eyes, burning his already irritated skin. 

Wyatt shot Charlie a scathing look. “See what you did?” 

Charlie sucked in a breath. “Oh, no. I’m sorry. Come to mama. Let it all out.” She patted her lap. 

Robby eyed her warily, annoyed that he wanted to let this strange girl comfort him, but Wyatt gave him a gentle shove and a reassuring smile. “Go ahead. She won’t stop nagging until you do. She’s powered by gay tears.” 

Robby didn’t have the emotional capacity to even try to fight her. He just let himself slump over until Charlie cradled his head in her lap. “That’s it. Go ahead and cry it out.”

He did. Not gross body wracking sobs, but tears streamed down his face as he lay there feeling sorry for himself. Charlie’s scary claw-like nails felt nice as they combed through his hair and she crooned nonsense at him like a baby. At some point, he dozed off, but not before an awful thought struck him: What if this was all there was for him?