I had fallen for him. Half of me believed Rose’s opinion: the pool boy was a fuck toy. Kent Tacoma was fuckable in all aspects of the word. Mine for the summer and something to dispose of by September. Hired for nothing more than to get off on, and by. Is that what I really wanted?
But…the other half of my mind, a saner region, suggested that the pool boy had feelings and emotions, that he was tender and sweet. Not a piece of meat I could eat and send away after the end of summer. The young man could be cuddled and become boyfriend material, someone who could live at the lake house with me, through the winter months. Was that possible? Maybe. Maybe not. I wasn’t sure.