Mr. February

By Bailey Bradford

One cool cat is about to discover just how hot love can be.

Darin Winger is beginning to regret ever volunteering to be a model for the charity calendar. There's already been an attack on all the people working on the photo shoot, which resulted in a nasty case of food poisoning for Darin and others. Then there was the fire at Marco's place, which had resulted in the photographer being injured. To what extent, Darin doesn't know, but now the photo shoot is back on, and Marco's daughter Perry is in charge of everything.

Which would be fine, except the weather causes delays, people cause delays, almost everything causes delays—and Darin is ready to return to his regularly scheduled life as a nurse and dog shifter. If one more thing goes wrong...

The last straw might be the arrival of an uptight feline shifter named Arturo Casarez, who demands that Perry move the photo shoot off the grounds of the museum.

Except there's something about Arturo that calls to Darin. Now he'll have to convince Arturo to give him a chance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pride Publishing
• Release date: Feb 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9781786516503

Bailey Bradford

A native Texan, Bailey spends her days spinning stories around in her head, which has contributed to more than one incident of tripping over her own feet. Evenings are reserved for pounding away at the keyboard, as are early morning hours. Sleep? Doesn't happen much. Writing is too much fun, and there are too many characters bouncing about, tapping on Bailey's brain demanding to be let out. Caffeine and chocolate are permanent fixtures in Bailey's office and are never far from hand at any given time. Removing either of those necessities from Bailey's presence can result in what is known as A Very, Very Scary Bailey and is not advised under any circumstances.

Book preview

Page

Mr. February

ISBN # 978-1-78651-650-3

©Copyright Bailey Bradford 2018

Cover Art by Erin Dameron-Hill ©Copyright February 2018

Edited by Nicki Richards

Pride Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2018 by Pride Publishing, UK

Pride Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

Calendar Men

MR. FEBRUARY

Bailey Bradford

Book two in the Calendar Men series

One cool cat is about to discover just how hot love can be.

Darin Winger is beginning to regret ever volunteering to be a model for the charity calendar. There’s already been an attack on all the people working on the photo shoot, which resulted in a nasty case of food poisoning for Darin and others. Then there was the fire at Marco’s place, which had resulted in the photographer being injured. To what extent, Darin doesn’t know, but now the photo shoot is back on, and Marco’s daughter Perry is in charge of everything.

Which would be fine, except the weather causes delays, people cause delays, almost everything causes delays—and Darin is ready to return to his regularly scheduled life as a nurse and dog shifter. If one more thing goes wrong…

The last straw might be the arrival of an uptight feline shifter named Arturo Casarez, who demands that Perry move the photo shoot off the grounds of the museum.

Except there’s something about Arturo that calls to Darin. Now he’ll have to convince Arturo to give him a chance.

Dedication

Persist, though the road is rough and dangerous at times, persist.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Spurs: NBA.com part of Turner Sports Entertainment & Digital Network

Lulu’s: Lulu’s Bakery, San Antonio, Texas

Lexus: Toyota Motor Corporation

Raid: S.C. Johnson & Son, Inc.

Chapter One

Debby said she’d had a photographer call and book something I’d like. I’m guessing that’s it. Or they’re it. Mmmmm. It’s going to be a beautiful day. Maryanne, Arturo Casarez’s assistant, sighed as she stared out at the grounds of the McNay. I wonder if she knew they’d be wearing jocks and nothing more. I’d ask her but she started her vacation today. Bummer.

Jocks? As in jockstraps, or is this an actual porn shoot? Irritated—in no small part because his stupid libido perked up—Arturo strode over to look outside and had to work to keep from gasping in surprise. What the heck was Debby thinking? This can’t happen here.

Doubt she asked specifics, Maryanne murmured. She told me they were supposed to use the grounds almost two weeks ago, but the weather— Texas, got to love the unpredictable weather. Anyway, look at all that man candy.

Looks like porn in the making, Arturo grumbled.

You have porn on the mind for some reason? Maryanne laughed. I remember you were panicking as you tried to clear your web browser when Lola asked to use your laptop.

One of the cons of having my best friend as my assistant. She knows too much about my past. I was nineteen, she was seventeen and the last thing I wanted was to have my sister nosing around my browser history.

I still look at it and I’m over thirty, have three kids and one fine husband, Maryanne countered. You know I’m teasing you, just like you know this isn’t a porn shoot. We both know that the human body is beautiful, artistic. How can you be a curator here and be so prudish? Isn’t that, like, artistic heresy?

Arturo was having trouble paying attention to Maryanne with all that perfect, almost-nude male flesh prancing around outside. Okay, not prancing, but Jesus. Most of those guys are living art, Maryanne is right about that. They were also violating decency laws, Arturo would bet. He remembered his sister fussing about not being allowed to wear a thong bathing suit on public beaches in Texas. If that were the case, then a dozen or so men in jockstraps running around in public had to be illegal.

Debby told me her nephew is one of the models, some guy named Rogelio, Maryanne continued. She also said the people putting this charity calendar together need a break. It’s already going to be tough getting it done in time for next year, since there’s been a two-month delay. You heard about Marco, the famous photographer, being attacked and almost killed in a fire? It was arson and he almost died when he got an infection. Delayed the calendar shoot. I wonder if it’s cursed? But how could a photo shoot full of sexy men be cursed? That’s got to be a blessing.

We’re having two different junior high schools bringing students in today, Arturo said as his brain kicked into gear, shoving aside his libido. There is no way this—he gestured at the photo shoot being set up—can happen today. Or tomorrow, or any other day if those men are going to be wearing next to nothing. We have kids to think about, and decency laws. Just because this is an art museum doesn’t mean we are all—Arturo gestured again, as he had a tendency to ‘speak with his hands’, as his mother called it—bohemians.

Maryanne snorted at that. Bohemians? Arturo, you should maybe go on a date. Have you had a date in this decade? I bet that guy wearing purple would be perfect for you.

Arturo made the mistake of looking at the man Maryanne was talking about. He was glorious, his toffee-colored skin gleaming as though he’d been oiled up. The man’s entire body was hairless. His waist was narrow, his chest broad, as were his shoulders. He had short-cropped dark hair. The cut accentuated his masculine features. Strong jaw, square chin, a full-lipped mouth that was proportionate to his face and his prominent nose. From this distance, his eyes appeared to be wide and thick-lashed.

Could be makeup.

Nah, he’s just a stud, Maryanne replied.

Arturo jolted and felt himself blush. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Well, you did say it out loud, and no wonder. Purple jock guy is the handsomest model out there. You should—

"I’m going to tell them to clear out, that’s what I should and will do, Arturo interrupted, striding for the door. This is not appropriate. Wedding shoots, family pictures, yes, those are fine, but not this."

Can you hear how prudish you sound right now? Maryanne asked. But go on and chase off the eye candy.

Arturo muttered, "It’s inappropriate because we have kids arriving soon."

The models could cover up or block off the shoot area, Maryanne called out as Arturo opened the door. His pulse raced. Arturo didn’t know if that was from nerves, or a reaction to seeing all the sexy models standing a dozen yards away.

He began making his way to the photographer, whose name he couldn’t remember. He’d never met her. Scheduling times for people to take photos on the museum grounds wasn’t his job. Neither was running off almost-naked men, but he was going to do it.

A woman with blue and green hair was cursing as she tried to do something with the camera on the tripod in front of her. Where the fuck are the directions for this thing? Ezra said he sent them!

He did, Perry. They’re right here. A man wearing khakis, a white button-up, a bow tie and suspenders, handed Perry a small booklet. I know you’re under a lot of pressure, but maybe take a minute or two and breathe?

Perry huffed, hung her head then exhaled loud enough that Arturo had no problem hearing her. Gods, Albert. I’m being a jerk. Dad didn’t sleep last night. He’s still not talking much at all about what happened. Evan is fighting for spousal support even though she’s about to be tried for attempted murder and a shit-ton of other charges. I’m exhausted, and if one more thing goes wrong with this calendar shoot, I might just scream. It’s been delayed for months now. Maybe I should quit and let someone else take this over. That, or move it to next year.

This is for a good cause, you know that, Albert replied, resting one hand on Perry’s shoulder. If you think it’s best to reschedule, or resign, that’s up to you, but the sooner the calendar is selling, the sooner the charity will get the money.

I know, I know, Perry said, raising her head and looking at Albert.

Arturo felt like he was walking into the middle of a TV dramedy, except there wasn’t anything funny about raising money for a children’s cancer charity. He slowed his steps as he approached the shoot.

Albert slid his hand down and cupped Perry’s elbow. Why don’t you take a few minutes and read the manual. I’ll read it with you. We’ll figure this camera out together, and if we can’t, we’ll make Ezra come out here and do it.

Ezra is with Dad. Perry sighed. She zeroed in on Arturo. You look like trouble. Are you trouble? I don’t need any more trouble today. It’s ten in the morning and I’ve had a week’s worth of it already. I’ve had a freakin’ decade’s worth since Dad took this project.

After everything Arturo had overheard, his temper had cooled—but the issue of impropriety still remained. I suppose I am trouble. I’m Arturo Casarez, and I’m a curator here.

Oh, do you curate studs like me? Tell me you do!

Arturo turned to his left, half-hoping to see the man in the purple-colored jockstrap talking to him. Alas,