“Carrie Cabrera.”
“What?”
“Told you. It was right after she won the Oscar forRunaway Train.”
“So you were, what, twelve?”
“Thirteen.”
“Wait a second,” I said, holding my head so it wouldn’t explode. “I didn’t realize you dated girls. How many others did you kiss, you naughty boy?”
“Just the one, and that was all the confirmation I needed.”
“Aw, poor Carrie. At least she has Oscar to sleep with.” I tried to picture teenage Shep making out with America’s little film star, and while it sounded good on paper, I just couldn’t see it.
I thought back to my past relationships, wondering what I could give Shep that he didn’t already know. It wasn’t like they ever lasted long. Whether that was because I got bored or they couldn’t handle the pressure of being with a public figure, it didn’t matter. There was one undeniable truth, though it made my heart beat a little faster to admit it.
“I’ve, uh…” I swallowed and then just fucking said it. “I’ve never told anyone I’ve been with that I love them.”
Shep’s lips parted, but there was no judgment clouding his blue eyes like I half expected, and that made my apprehension over telling him ease a little.
He stared at me with a thoughtful expression before saying, “Noted. Thank you for telling me.”
The air around us grew thick with tension, this time not the sexual kind, but something deeper. An underlying emotion, an understanding between us, maybe. I didn’t feel judged or awkwardly vulnerable. There was a comfort here that made me want to tell him everything and anything.
But we had plenty of time for that.
“One more truth,” Shep said as he shifted to the edge of the pool to dangle his legs in the water. “I never competed professionally, but I could kick Michael Phelps’ ass in a race.”
“Now you’re just talking crazy.”
Shep arched a brow, the dare in his eyes clear. “I could kickyourass in a race.”
Oh, the man wanted to play, did he? I was down with that.
“Careful, Shep. I’m fueled by obstinance.”
“Perfect,” he said. “I’m fueled by winning.”
And then, before I could say another word, he wound his arms around me and wrenched us sideways into the pool.
37
SHEP
“WHAT ABOUT JACK Brady?” I said, writing his name down on my notepad. He joined the pages-long list of Libertine members Theo and I were brainstorming over, trying to suss out anyone who seemed capable of being the asshole we were searching for.
It wasn’t much, but it at least made us feel like we were doingsomethingproductive while we were forced to hide away. Maybe we’d catch something the others wouldn’t, though we both realized the likelihood of that was low.
“I doubt the busiest director in Hollywood is taking time off from filming the nextStar Warsto mess with little old me.”
“You do know you’re a prince, right? And he would have access to explosives, or at least know how to pull it off.”
“I also know he loves his life, and the fifty-million-dollar mansion he just bought. He’s not going to jeopardize that by coming after me for a minor indiscretion that took place two years ago.”
“Announcing at one of his premieres that you wouldn’t date him because his boyfriend told you his dick was the size of a Vienna sausage is hardly minor.”
“Au contraire.The whole point was that it wasveryminor.” Theo held his thumb and index finger a few inches apart.
