Sir.
Fuck.
The word hits me like a shot of whiskey, warm and potent. My cock thickens behind my zipper, and I have to force myself not to reach out and cup that flushed cheek.
I let a slow smile curve my mouth. Time to test the waters further.
“Good,” I murmur. “Because good boys get rewarded.” I pause, watching every micro-expression. “Show up at the restaurant tomorrow around noon. If you’ve been a very good boy tonight, I might just have a lunch box waiting for you. Homemade sandwiches. Olivier Ramsey cookies. Fresh juice. The works.”
His breath catches audibly. The blush deepens to something almost painful. Danny’s eyes dart to the side, then back to me, wide and hopeful and terrified all at once.
“R-really?” he breathes.
I nod once. “Really. But only if you’re good.”
He nods so fast I’m surprised he doesn’t give himself whiplash. “I will be. Promise.”
Goddamn.
The boy is going to kill me.
Xander calls from the door. “Danny! You coming or what?”
Danny startles, then shoots me one last look—equal parts longing and nerves—before hurrying after the crew. I watch him go, broad back disappearing into the crowd, and I have to adjust myself discreetly.
I stay another minute, finishing the last of my drink, letting the cool glass ground me. Then I head out into the cold night air. The crew’s already a block ahead, their laughter echoing down the street. Danny glances back once. I lift a hand in farewell. He blushes again—even from this distance I can see it—and then disappears around the corner with the others.
Perfect.
I walk the few blocks back to the restaurant, hands in my pockets, mind racing. The streets are quiet now, frost already glittering on the sidewalks. My breath clouds in front of me.
Inside, the place is winding down. The last tables are finishing dessert, the kitchen nearly spotless as Antonio and the others get on with things. Lazlo’s at the host stand, tallying the night’s receipts. He looks up when I walk in.
“Chef. Thought you’d be out later than this.”
I shrug, leaning against the bar. “Go home, Lazlo. I’ll lock up.”
He raises an eyebrow but starts gathering his things. “So. How was the dive bar? And more importantly… how was the mountain of muscle you followed there?”
I snort. “His name’s Danny. And there’s…potential.”
Lazlo grins, sliding into his coat. “Potential. Right. That why you came back with that look on your face?”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t hide the smile. “He’s a Little,” I say. “I’m almost certain. Blushed like a virgin bride every time I pushed a button.”
Lazlo laughs softly. “And you pushed all of them, I assume?”
“Most,” I admit. “Told him to behave tonight or there’d be trouble. Then dangled a lunch box reward if he’s good.”
Lazlo whistles low. “You cruelsonofagun. You know he’s probably halfway to Little space right now, trying not to bounce off the walls.”
I chuckle, but the humor fades quickly. I rub the back of my neck.
“Thing is… they’re only here for their stage of the build,” I say. “Couple months, maybe less. Then they’re gone. Back to the coast.”
Lazlo’s expression softens.
He’s known me long enough to hear what I’mnotsaying.
