“I asked you to get them.”
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law, and I have them here.” Molly got Morrigan’s attention immediately by fishing the distinctive and probably tasty-smelling barkery bag out of her tote. “Honestly, if I was going to town for these, I might as well have brought dinner.”
“It was an afterthought.” Sebastian placed his camera bag on the table, out of play range. “Or I’d have suggested it earlier.”
I watched my dog beg shamelessly. “Morrigan’s going to be so spoiled if you keep this up.”
“Sebastian told me how beautiful you are, Morrigan.” Molly held a small treat shaped like a fire hydrant in the palm of her hand. “Tell me about her, Stone. How did you get her?”
“About three years ago, I met the woman I work for now at a fundraiser for a nonprofit that matches emotional support animals with veterans who need them.”
“Wait—” Sebastian said. “She wasn’t married to your brother yet?”
“Actually, I introduced them shortly after that party. Seems I was right that they’d be perfect for each other.”
“So did you trade?” Sebastian teased. “Your brother for this adorable dog?”
“Nope, I had to apply and wait like everyone else. In the end, I got a great dog, a sister-in-law I love, and a new niece out of the deal.”
“She seems like an exceptional find. Do you mind telling me what she does for you?” Molly asked. “If it’s not too personal of course.”
Even after all these years, it wasn’t easy. “Rarely, I cycle through posttraumatic episodes. Anger management issues and panic attacks.” Sebastian’s gaze rose to meet mine. “I manage those pretty well. Morrigan’s gifts are for when I have flashbacks because I’m not—I’m still not very good at finding my way back.”
Molly nodded. “You use your physical senses as a grounding technique?”
“Yes. When I have a flashback, she’ll nudge me with her nose or lick me or give me puppy punches until I recognize what’s happening. I don’t know where I’d be without her.”
“Not only beautiful but skilled at her job.” Sebastian nudged his PA. “Just like you, Miss Molly.”
She dimpled. “Thank you for saying so.”
“What can I get you to drink?” I asked them.
“I brought wine.” Molly pulled two bottles from her bag. “It’s B Side. A 2009 cabernet. I thought wine would go nicely with the sunset.”
“You think wine goes with everything.” He winked at her. “Molly’s a wine snob, but it’s still cheaper than hiring a PA and a sommelier.”
“Guilty as charged. I drink wine, and I drink whiskey, and they both have to be the best.”
“I have whiskey. Maker’s Mark. Not the best—”
“But good,” she said brightly. “We’re golden.”
Sebastian spent a few minutes configuring his camera while Molly and I made small talk about her favorite spirits.
“What all have you got there?” I finally asked him.
“It’s a Canon. I got the DSLR bundle when I decided it might be fun to study photography, and no matter what I’ve purchased since, I find this easiest to travel with, except my phone of course.”
“Did you take classes?”
“Very basic ones online. I think I might look into a low-residence MFA program, but that feels like a thing to do when I stop getting modeling work. What is it they say? Make hay while the sun shines?”
“Is that about real hay or is it a euphemism?” Molly took a corkscrew from her purse and opened one of the bottles.
“Both maybe?” Sebastian answered.
“Gotcha,” Molly said over a triumphant cork removal. She lifted the bottle. “Glasses?”
“I’ll get them.” Sebastian bounded up the RV’s stairs.
Molly turned to me. “He already knows where you keep the glasses?”
“He reheated the food last night.” Idly, I gave the cork a sniff. It smelled like wine to me. “I had to block the door to stop him from doing the dishes before he left.”
Molly laughed with me. “I keep telling him to knock that off. How’s anyone going to believe he’s just some profligate, pretty it boy if he performs chores for his hosts?”
I felt the pinch of irritation. “He’s not shallow.”
“Of course not. But still waters and still volcanos both run deep. “
“He’s not the volcano type, either.”
“Spoken with volcanic authority, I presume?” She brought her wine to her lips and sipped before saying, “He made me very curious about you. He likes you a lot.”
“I like him,” I said with what I thought was admirable objectivity. “I don’t think I’ve opened up to anyone in quite that way since I was a kid.”
She sipped her wine and sighed. “Bast has a gift for getting people to do all the talking while making it seem like he’s having a heart-to-heart with them.”
Had I heard a note of exasperation in her voice? “You make him sound insincere.”
“Gosh, what you must think of me.” She gasped. “Sebastian is absolutely sincere. He’s simply not all about Sebastian Keye. That makes him a unicorn in an industry full of people who can’t wait to be center stage.”
“I know you’re talking about me.” Sebastian came down the RV stairs with three wineglasses and some Christmas cocktail napkins.
Where had I gotten those and more importantly why?
“Molly was just telling me how much you enjoy being behind the camera. Think you can take some pretty pictures of Morrigan for me?”
“I’d love to. Can I?” Bast picked up his camera and called her to a nice, still-sunny spot some distance away.
“I see what you did there.” Molly bit her lip. “Guess I’m not as subtle as I think.”
“If he’d really rather not act or model, why does he do it? He can say no, can’t he?”
“He’s been in the industry since he was born. That’s part of it.”
We both stopped to watch Bast get pictures of Morrigan dancing on her hind legs. A lot of people assumed they had to use force to win the trust of a dangerous dog her size. Be the alpha, some said. Force submission. But Morrigan was a highly intelligent, affectionate, and loyal dog. Anyone who tried to win her through a contest of wills didn’t understand what they were dealing with. It might work to subdue a dog her size, but it could never create the relationship I had with her. She needed a leader, not a boss.
I loved how gently Sebastian talked to her.
“Maybe he should be the animal handler.” I hoped he planned to send me some of those pictures.
Molly hid her smile. “He’d probably prefer it.”
“Are you saying he can’t extricate himself from his career now, even if he wants to? Why not? Is he in debt? I understand there must be contracts to fulfill—”
“What I’m trying to say is that Bast understands how genuinely lucky he was to get where he is. People would kill to be in his shoes, and he feels that deeply, even if”—she frowned—”it was never his choice to be there.”