Somewhere along the way, Ben had been roped in. A few months ago, he’d taken a handful to an art gallery and later on a photo expedition.
Last month, the boys had visited Raoul’s offices to learn about civil engineering…and to design bridges on the high-tech software.
Today’d been simply to have a good time.
Ben had enjoyed himself as well. Kids were fun—all of them, from the terrifyingly small ones like Z’s Sophia to this batch of rabble-rousers. He wanted children of his own, someday. Didn’t matter how many as long as the number started at two.
Anne didn’t even want pets in her life.
No, that was inaccurate. She was changing. And fuck knew, she loved children. As with plants and pets, she’d just never thought about having her own.
How far could he push her before hitting a wall?
“Y’all fetch your bags, grab water, and line up at the door,” Marcus ordered from the living room. He counted off boys as Raoul tossed them bottles of water.
“Thanks, Raoul.” “Thanks, Ben.” “It was great.” The chorus of farewells and gratitude continued as the teens headed out the front door and to the rented mini-bus. Undoubtedly, they’d party all the way back to Tampa.
“Thank you for hosting the invasion, Raoul.” Marcus stopped in the door to keep an eye on the bus.
“It was a pleasure, my friend, and an honor. Here—one for you.” Raoul tossed over a bottled water.
Marcus caught it. As Raoul headed into the kitchen, Marcus turned to Ben. “Thank you for—”
“Don’t even start on that gratitude shit, Atherton.” Snorting a laugh, Ben nudged the lawyer out the door. “You know I have as much fun as they do.”
As Marcus jogged to the bus, Ben raised his hand to the boys and got back a burst of whistles and cheers.
And that was that. He glanced at the clock and winced. Time to get a move on.
Kim was in the kitchen. “Hey, Ben. Raoul went out to the patio. He said his ears were ringing.”
“Got that.” Noise and boys—inseparable. “Do you have an old towel I can use on Bronx? He’s covered in sand, and we’re driving to the Everglades after this.”
“Of course. I’ll bring one out.”
When Ben went out the French doors to the back, he found Raoul at a table in the shade.
Off to one side, Bronx was lapping water from a wide, foot-high, terra-cotta fountain.
Hell of a fancy pet-waterer. Something so pretty would look just about right on Anne’s deck. Maybe in a ceramic blue.
Ben looked around. “Where’s your dog?”
Raoul grinned and pointed under the table to where Kim’s dog was sprawled out, dead to the world.
“Poor bastard,” Ben said. “It’s a lot of work to protect and serve—and play—all at the same time.”
“He takes his guard dog duties quite seriously,” Raoul agreed. At a rocky point in their relationship, he and Kim had broken up. Worried about her being alone, he’d bought the highly trained German shepherd for her.
Today, although the dog played on the beach with the group, Ari had remained vigilant. Any time someone approached Kim, the dog’d charge up the stairs to the patio…just in case.
Who knew when some skinny fifteen-year-old might go berserk and lay a hand on his mistress, right?
“If you are not in a hurry, please, join me for a beer before you leave.” Raoul motioned to a seat across the table. “I’d like to talk to you.”
Some problem with the boys? The drive could wait a bit. “Sure.” As Ben sat, Kim appeared with a towel.
“Thanks, Kim.” When Ben whistled, Bronx trotted over to get wiped down.
Kim turned to Raoul. “Drinks, Master?”
“That would be good, gatita, thank you. Dos Equis, I think, for Ben.” He leaned back in his chair and studied her. “Wine for you, if you wish. I think you have more than earned it today.”
Under her Dom’s appreciative smile, Kim flushed a pretty red and simply glowed.
His voice lowered, and he murmured something to her.
Feeling as if he were intruding, Ben concentrated on de-sanding his dog, then waved him under the table to join Ari for a nap.
As Bronx flattened out with a soft sigh, Kim returned from the house with a tray. She handed an opened Stump Knocker to Raoul, a Dos Equis to Ben, and took the glass of red wine for herself.
“I sampled your Brooklyn Lager at the Shadowlands,” Raoul said. “Dos Equis is as close to it as I have on hand.”
“Good choice.” Fuck knew he didn’t want Raoul’s favorite beer—the stuff was so malty it was almost black. He raised his bottle to both his hosts. “Thanks.”