“Thanks.” I spun around on my stool, leaning back as I rested my elbows on the edge of the bar.
Watching. That was safe enough.
I felt old. Even the Daddies looked like babies for the most part. That was possibly due to the fact
our area was getting a reputation as being a gay-friendly city for people of all ages, but it could just
as easily be that I was getting old. Most of the friends I used to hang out with were now settled and
not into the bar scene. Hell, even Tom had found himself a boy—the lucky sonuvabitch. Maybe I
should have asked if they wanted to come out with me tonight, but they were still in the sickeningly
sweet phase of their relationship.
One beer turned into two, and then another for good measure. At this rate, I’d have to use a
rideshare to get home and then back in the morning to pick up my car.
“I wanted to thank you for the help earlier.” Sam’s melodic voice was like a needle scratching
across a vinyl record, abruptly ending my pity party. It was a baby step, but he’d come to find me.
Yeah, because it’s tough to find someone who’s rooted to their barstool.
“It was my pleasure,” I assured him, cringing when I realized how prim that sounded. Calling it a
pleasure to pick up after bratty littles who needed to learn manners, was a bit of a stretch. “Feeling
any better now that you see everyone having fun?”
I hooked my foot around the bottom rung of the stool next to me, pulling it out and nodding,
silently instructing Sam to sit. Even employees needed a break sometimes. I held my breath as I
waited to see how he would react, fully expecting him to refuse. I offered him a soft smile when he
ducked his chin and slid his butt onto the seat.
I had to bite back the urge to praise him and tell him he was a good boy. It wasn’t my place,
probably never would be.
“A little. Now, we just need a few months of people using the space and I might quit waiting for it
to fail.” Sam rolled his head to one side and then the other. I reached out to massage his shoulders,
stopping before I touched him. I wouldn’t, no matter how badly I wanted to, unless he gave
permission. He rested his forearms on the bar and tucked his chin to his chest. When I still didn’t
move, he looked over and smiled. I took that as permission and began softly kneading the muscles. He
was tense as hell. My dick woke right the hell up when he groaned. “You can do that for at least
another hour before I complain. Thank you.”
“You deserve someone who will take care of you,” I said, thinking back to Doug’s statement
