Dom
As I glanced around at the men assembled for Lucia’s photo shoot, my first thought was, I didn’t need to be here. Lucia had plenty of prime grade A beef to objectify without me. My firefighter brothers were there, as were a handful of Cecilton’s finest, thanks to my brother Vinnie. Lucia must have appealed to my sister Sofia again as well, because I saw some familiar faces from the hospital, residents and interns stethoscopes over bare chests and low-slung scrub bottoms.
All single. All in great shape. Most of them younger than me.
Not that I was a slouch. Between the job training and my aggressive workout schedule, I was in peak physical condition. But there was a noticeable difference between a twenty-three-year-old male in his prime and a thirty-three-year-old male in his prime. I was confident, not delusional.
We were standing around, letting Lucia and her assistants do their thing. Rubbing us with oil. Smudging us with dirt. Messing up our hair. Removing and adjusting clothing, just enough to make us desirable while keeping the calendar family friendly.
Some guys were eating up the attention. I rolled my eyes when I saw Chas flexing his pecs as my cousin Corina greased him up. Smirked when I saw Henry’s face go beet red as my cousin Valentina fixed his hair, her chest hovering inches in front of his face while she did so.
Yeah. There was a lot of flirting and peacocking going on. I smiled and played along, but my heart wasn’t in it. The more I thought about Nonno’s words, the more I realized he hadn’t actually said I would meet someone here, only that I might. Nonno wasn’t usually so vague. Maybe Lucia had buttered him up by sneaking him gelato before dinner, knowing that having him plant the seed of possibility in my head would increase my chances of participation.
I mean, it was for a good cause. The animal shelter depended on donations to stay in business and remain a no-kill facility. Adoption programs, promotion, housing, and medical care weren’t cheap.
I guessed that the unfamiliar casual observers hovering around the periphery were from said shelter. Lucia usually kept these shoots private, and for good reason. All I could say about that was, some women thought that because we posed for these calendars, we like being pawed and grabbed by people we didn’t know.
Spoiler alert: we didn’t.
Well, not most of us, anyway. Chas was a manwhore.
My eyes scanned the edge of the lot, checking out the unknowns while I waited for Lucia’s instruction. A few males. More females, brimming with possibility and looking around with barely concealed interest. I passed over them without a trace of temptation, until I saw her.
My casual perusal stopped immediately. Glossy dark hair, barely long enough to brush her shoulders. Delicate lines of the most perfectly sculpted face I’d ever seen. Something deep inside my chest shifted, and for a moment, I forgot to breathe.
She was beautiful. Striking. A vision in animal print scrubs and comfortable shoes.
I blinked and shifted to keep her in sight as she moved about the periphery. Unlike her coworkers, her attention was focused on the animals brought in for the shoot, not the two-dozen young, well-built, greased-up guys cracking jokes and striking poses. She moved with fluid grace, offering gentle pets, a calming presence amongst playful chaos, removed from the action.
I was entranced. Or perhaps bewitched. I didn’t know what the appropriate term was. I just knew I couldn’t look away.
As if she sensed me staring, her posture suddenly went stiff. She turned around slowly, eyes searching, until they landed on me. Analyzing me. Checking me out. Her eyes raked down my frame and back up to my face.
I felt like preening.
“Let’s go, Dom,” Lucia called, waving me over. “Show them how it’s done.”
I shook myself free of whatever spell she’d cast on me and slipped back into the present. This was my chance to show off a little, maybe impress the Madonna whose gaze I continued to feel as tangibly as if she’d reached out and touched me. I strutted over to my cousin, flashing the others a grin. “Watch and learn, boys.”
Rude comments were tossed my way. I laughed them off. “Don’t be haters.”
Even Lucia was smiling as she eyed me critically. I had on my flame-retardant pants, held up by suspenders over a bare chest, steel-toed boots, and my helmet in my hand. With my body artfully smudged, I looked every bit the romance novel cover hero Lucia was going for.
I knew the drill. Hefting a leg onto the stone wall, I leaned forward and twisted my torso toward the camera.
She took a few shots, then commanded, “Now sit on the ground in front of the fountain.”
This was new, but whatever. I shrugged and did as she said. Lucia came over and poked me several times in the arm, chest, and jaw. I vaguely registered the scent of peanut butter, but before I could fully process that, Lucia bellowed, “Release the hounds!”
Copyright © 2025 Abbie Zanders
Written by Abbie Zanders.
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