Boy Toy Read online

  Table of Contents

  What people are saying about Jenny Gardiner's books:

  Boy Toy

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Cabana Boy | Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Cabana Boy

  About the Author

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  Also By jenny gardiner

  What people are saying about Jenny Gardiner's books:

  Red Hot Romeo

  “Awesome". So enjoyed the romantic chemistry between the two characters. Read it non stop into the wee hours. Highly recommend this book

  —Mrs. K

  Blue-Blooded Romeo

  "Another brilliant, fun read from Jenny Gardiner. The book is fun to read and I thoroughly enjoyed every word. Jenny Gardiner has put the fun back into romance books and I look forward to each book in this delightful series.”

  —Anne Blyth

  “I had planned on only reading a few chapters at first but couldn't put it down. A terrific storyline, well-developed and extremely relatable characters, what's not to love?? Great read!”

  —Samantha Reeves

  Big O Romeo

  “I could not put this book down. Warning don't start this book late at night as you will not want to stop reading.

  —Di

  Sleeping with Ward Cleaver

  "A fun, sassy read! A cross between Erma Bombeck and Candace Bushnell, reading Jenny Gardiner is like sinking your teeth into a chocolate cupcake...you just want more."

  —Meg Cabot, NY Times bestselling author of Princess Diaries, Queen of Babble and more

  Slim to None

  "Jenny Gardiner has done it again—this fun, fast-paced book is a great summer read."

  —Sarah Pekkanen, NY Times bestselling author of The Opposite of Me

  Boy Toy

  (Book Two of the Confessions of a Chick Magnet series)

  by Jenny Gardiner

  Copyright © 2018 by Jenny Gardiner

  Cover art by Kim Killion, The Killion Group, Inc.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  http://jennygardiner.net/

  Chapter One

  Sullivan Forester stood before his open underwear drawer, and for what seemed like the thousandth time over the past year, he stared at the black velvet box nestled beneath a stack of boxers, topped by the pair with Saint Bernards embroidered on them. He shook his head, smacked his lips, then ran his fingers through his wavy caramel hair, which was a little longer than he liked it of late. At last, he took a deep breath and blew it out, deciding once and for all to make it official. Today was the day he was going to start getting his shit together, which included trimming this shaggy head of hair.

  But first, he had more important business to attend to: the ring.

  He pulled the box out of the drawer where it had lurked, taunting him for what seemed like ages now, and flipped open the lid to stare at the Tiffany & Co. two-carat brilliant-cut diamond engagement ring, flanked on either side by fat indigo sapphires. The gems caught the early morning sunlight streaming through the window and winked at him. He took it as yet one more sign that it was time to find a new home for this thing that felt like bad juju now that it had taken up unproductive space in his life for far too long.

  At first, when Gretchen Penobscott dumped him, three whoppingly inconsiderate weeks before their wedding, it seemed like he would never get over it. Why would she do something like that to him? Worse still, how could he have been so clueless and not seen it coming?

  A year ago, her words lacerated his heart, causing an achy tug that didn’t let up for months.

  “Look, Sully,” she’d said. “I’ve realized marriage isn’t for me.”

  He remembered staring into her brown eyes, the ones that once seemed so warm and loving, finally seeing them for the cold dark they had been all along. Her shiny black hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, her makeup fresh. She wore one of her never-ending supply of bright pastel sundresses—what were they called? Lilly something or other. He knew dick about fashion, but he always noticed she was about the only woman in town who dressed every day as if she was going to a cocktail party at a beach resort. He knew that style of dress only because it was emblematic of what he’d left behind after moving to Bristol, Montana a handful of years ago. That’s when he’d sold his start-up for more money than he could ever envision in his bank account.

  He’d spent a couple of years dabbling in the lavish me-me-me lifestyle of the wealthy in New York: the obligatory summers in the Hamptons, the mandatory charity events every night of the week at somebody-or-other’s exclusive penthouse apartment during the rest of the year. The insincere air-kiss greetings by women who wanted your donations but not a decent conversation, the severe handshakes by the Wall Street assholes who were dipping into the cash reserves of the country to line their own pockets all while sticking their dicks into women young enough to be their daughters, as their air-kissing wives went under the knife for yet more unnecessary plastic surgery to try desperately to compete.

  Sully was over that bullshit, which was why he’d come to Bristol. He wanted to start new where no one knew him, where he could be his authentic self and not play the superficial games to which he’d become accustomed.

  His mistake, however, was bringing Gretchen Penobscott with him. He and Gretchen had been together even during the leaner years, so at least he could take comfort knowing it wasn’t as if she’d been after his wealth. And to her credit, for a while, she went along with his plan, upending the lifestyle she’d become quite accustomed to. She came with him to Montana, Lilly whatever-the-name-was dresses and all, but it seemed from the minute they’d moved here, things were never quite the same between them.

  He’d hoped it was only a matter of getting used to things—it was admittedly weird going from endless black pavement and skyscrapers to fields of wildflowers and mountains that touched the skies instead—and that once married she’d settle in more. But then he never got the chance to see if he was right because on that brutal early summer day a year ago, she slid the ring off her left ring finger, tucked it into the palm of his hand, closing his fingers around it, gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek, and walked away.

  Well. He eventually learned that time does heal old wounds, and though he’d once loved Gretchen, she’d done him a solid by not going through with what she knew in her heart would be a mistake. He’d never fully understand it, but hey, much better than finding that out after the wedding. Sure, it sucked, worse still having to take the financial hit for canceling everything wedding-related at the last minute. But it hadn’t even put a dent in his bank account, so calling it off may have cost him emotionally, but the lesson learned was not financially dev
astating.

  And today, he was going to take the first step toward making some other person who couldn’t afford it that much happier.

  He whistled for his husky pup Blizzard, threw on a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, and a plaid flannel shirt to fend off the morning chill, grabbed his laptop, and went out on the deck off his bedroom. The sun was shining and the fog had begun to lift off the still snowcapped mountain peaks as he fixed a quick cappuccino at the coffee bar on his deck. He sat down at the long farmhouse table and opened his laptop, then snapped a quick picture of the ring on his phone, clicked on Facebook, and entered this:

  Looking for a good home for this briefly used treasure, valued at $85,000. Tell me why you want to share this with the one you love. Please email me at [email protected]. Deadline is one week from today. Please share.

  He uploaded the image, clicked Post, and sent it off into the ether, then did the same on Twitter and Instagram. He rubbed his hands together, took a sip of his cappuccino, and made a mental note to remember to stop in at Jackson’s Barber Shop for a haircut when he went to town later in the day.

  SULLY, WHO’D BEEN WORKING on writing a song, reveled in the beautiful weather. It had started out chilly, but by lunchtime, it was the quintessential Montana summer day: songbirds in full throat, the hum of bees vibrating through the air, all against the backdrop of a bluebird sky. Wildflowers bloomed like crazy in the fields surrounding his custom-built farmhouse that overlooked the Rocky Mountains. The place was truly a slice of heaven.

  Life could not be any better. Sure, Sully didn’t have a bride at his side as he’d originally expected, but it was all good. He’d landed some regular gigs playing guitar at local bars, and making others happy with his music made him supremely happy. He had a great dog whose antics made him laugh. He got to spend time each morning doing what he wanted: reading, meditating, working out at the gym. He volunteered with an animal rescue clinic, thanks to his friend Tanner Eliasson, a local veterinarian. He even spent an inordinate amount of time cooking elaborate meals for himself each night, which was admittedly a little lonely, and occasionally hosted dinners with a handful of folks who’d become true friends unlike the superficial acquaintances he’d encountered regularly back on the East Coast.

  Not to take dig at the East Coast—there was nothing wrong with that lifestyle for someone else, but it wasn’t for him. He was happy on his horse or feeding his chickens or taking a hike on his hundred acres of property. And more than happy to not have to deal with rush hour traffic and type A personalities ever again.

  His phone buzzed and he pulled up a text message from his friend Tanner:

  Dude. What the fuck? Have you looked at your Facebook in the past hour?

  Sully squinted, not knowing what exactly he was talking about. Until he remembered.

  Oh, that. You saw it?

  He waited for the buzz of his phone.

  Saw it? Me and a few thousand other complete strangers.

  Sully’s eyes opened wide. Huh?

  You’re joking, right?

  Tanner didn’t comment but instead sent a screenshot of his post.

  Sully expanded the image to see details up close. Well, crap. He grabbed his phone and pressed Tanner’s number.

  “Jesus, Sully,” Tanner said. “Next time give me heads-up on these things. I’ve had every female I know within two hundred miles message me about this including my girlfriend, and I didn’t even know about it. You’re giving away that ring?”

  “I figured it was time. The thing was taking up space, reminding me of what was. No need in going there anymore. I’m finally past Gretchen, over that whole breakup, and I want to make something that left a bad taste in my mouth become something better. Lemons to lemonade.”

  “That’s a hell of a glass of lemonade,” Tanner said.

  “Yeah well, I thought it could be a fun project. And it would feel good helping someone else out who maybe couldn’t afford to get engaged.”

  “Your fun project might turn into a full-time job if my suspicions are right—you’ll be slammed with people begging for that thing.”

  Sully shrugged. “Great! The good news is I’ve got time to do what I want. And right now, this feels right. Besides, I’m sure I’ll be able to see through the scammers looking for an expensive ring they could hock and find someone who is truly in love and has a legit reason for wanting this thing. And to be honest, the sooner I get rid of this, the better. I want to move on without any reminders.”

  “Yeah, well, you’d better open up that laptop and start reading your emails because I think you’ve given yourself a full-time unpaid job for the next year.”

  Sully laughed. “No worries. It’s all good.”

  “Talk to me about ‘all good’ when you have a million women pounding your door down because they think you’re the swooniest guy on the planet.”

  Huh. Sully hadn’t thought about that. Shit. He sure as hell wasn’t looking for women to glom onto him for his money. Over the last year since Gretchen had left, Sully had been in the habit of one-off flings with women tourists who streamed through Bristol like a hard-running river, looking for sporty outdoors activities by day and even more sporty activities in the sack by night.

  His music gigs offered the perfect opportunity to meet strangers in town for a short period, guaranteeing he could avoid anyone seeking commitment or anything more than a few hours of escapist sex. He’d usually return with them to their hotel or Airbnb or rental up on the mountain, only to slip out hours later under cover of darkness and be back in his own bed before sunrise. Sure it seemed impersonal, but that’s what he’d needed at the time—anonymous sex for the sake of sex, no strings attached, no commitment whatsoever.

  But now, crap, did this mean women were going to seek him out? He hadn’t thought about that. He should’ve donated the damned ring to charity to be done with it. Because the last thing he needed in his life was to have women homing in on him like a heat-seeking missile, wanting love and marriage and all those things he’d grown a bit cynical about.

  He opened his Facebook page and saw that his post had been viewed by three thousand people and over four hundred people had commented. Hell, another two thousand had shared it. Ho-ly shit.

  What had he gotten himself into?

  Chapter Two

  Isabelle Strong was tired of licking her wounds over her latest failed relationship. Granted the hot guy from HR, her last impetuous fling, was never truly going to be long-term material—first off, nothing good came from dating a guy from the office. Second, it turned out he wasn’t all that interesting. Once they got past the great sex—the only reason the relationship lasted as long as it did—she found herself carrying most conversations while he spent an inordinate amount of time on his phone’s ESPN app. If he was going to be so deeply entrenched in his handheld idiot device this early into a relationship, Lord only knew how bad it would be after a few years together.

  So she did what she knew she had to do and lowered the boom, dumping HR-boy before things got any more involved. And now she didn’t miss him so much as the idea of him. Rather, the idea of a guy she could have fun with. Someone who could go away with her for the weekend, stay in to cook dinner, and maybe binge-watch several episodes of a Netflix show before retiring for a night of stimulating sex, ultimately falling asleep curled up in each other’s arms. Was that so much to ask for?

  Apparently so. Because she’d had a succession of equally lame relationships over the past few years—from the lifeguard in Santa Monica whose idea of a good time was watching shark documentaries, to the waiter at the Ivy who only cared which celebrity he’d waited on that week. She had to lose him because she couldn’t bear to hear one more time about how he’d yet again served lunch to one of the Kardashians. Then there was the weird guy who had the creepy toe fetish and insisted she wear sandals even when they went to Banff for the weekend to ski. In the winter.

  Uh, no.

  She was stuck in traffic on the freeway
and switched off her book on tape and turned up the radio to try to find out what was causing the logjam this time on the highway. Instead she got the tail end of a news report about some guy who’d posted on Facebook about giving away a ridiculously expensive engagement ring to a deserving person and that social networking sites had exploded over it.

  Huh. Intriguing. What sort of guy would have bought an $85,000 engagement ring in the first place? And what self-respecting woman would ditch the kind of guy who did? Not that she was chasing after guys with money, but seriously, that woman must’ve been an idiot.

  “The man, who lives in Bristol, Montana,” the reporter said, “is taking pleas from hopeful suitors until the end of the week.”

  Bristol, Montana? That was where her best friend Zoey Richards had moved after falling in love with a gorgeous veterinarian. She wondered if Zoey knew the guy. No time like the present to find out. She pulled out her phone to call her. Luckily Zoey answered on the first ring.

  “What’s shakin’ bacon?” Zoey said in a half whisper. “You are so not going to believe this, but I’m sitting out back, sipping my coffee, and all of a sudden I look off to my right, not a hundred and fifty feet from me, and see a moose. A moose! This place is amazing.”

  Izzy sighed. “Ugh. Don’t be too jealous of me. I’m stuck in traffic on the Santa Monica Freeway, bored out of my mind, and heard something on the radio about some guy in your town who’s giving away a fancy engagement ring. What is up with that?” The traffic had slowed to a crawl, so Izzy quickly pulled an elastic off her wrist and caught her hair in a ponytail, then refocused her attention on the call on speakerphone. Well, and driving, of course, not that anyone was getting any driving done.

  “Yeah, crazy, right?”

  “You don’t know him, do you?”

  “Of course I do. In a town this size, you get to know pretty much everyone. Especially with Tanner’s line of work.”