Colton leans against the counter, facing me. “Yes. Is there a problem with that?”
He’s asking me if it’s a limit. I’m not sure how to answer him. I’ve never been in a situation to be someone’s baby. How can I be forty years old and never have been someone’s baby?
“You good?” He walks over, stands in front of me. He tilts my head up the way he does, the way I like. “What are you thinking?”
“I’ve never been someone’s baby.” What a dumb thing to say. What an immature, emotionally stunted—
“I’ve never had one either.”
“You’re twenty-eight.”
“Almost twenty-nine.”
I frown. “When is your birthday?”
“December. No changing the subject. Are you okay with being mine?”
Say no. Run.“Yes.”
“Good boy.” He kisses me before moving to the cabinets, searching them as if he’s completely at home here. He grabs apan and puts ground beef into it, then finds a knife and the cutting board and starts chopping an onion. “You like investing?”
“I do. I’ve learned a lot about the stock market and such. My brain does well with that kind of thing.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Where did you grow up?”
Have I really never told him this before? “Oregon. Small town there. The kids had never even left the state before I brought them here.”
“Where did you go to college?”
He continues to ask me questions while he cooks—about college, how I ended up in the area, when I realized I’m submissive, more about my sexual history, friendships and things like that. When I mention Henry again, he says, “Do you like him?”
“As in do I want to date him or sleep with him?”
“Fuck no. Then me and him would have beef.” He winks. It’s the most ridiculous thing in the world but also the most adorable.
“Oh, so you want to fight him for me?”
“I would,” he teases. “Do you want to be friends with him?”
I shrug. “We’re different.”
“People who are different can be friends.”
“I don’t even know what to say to him half the time. He’s…a lot, but yes, I do like him. He’s a good guy, good at his job. He can be funny when he’s not annoying.”
Colton laughs. “Ringing endorsement. You should do something with him sometime, if you want. It’s okay to have friends, James.”
I scoff, slightly frustrated. “I know that.”
But do I really? Henry has tried for years, and I don’t ever make it easy on him. I’m surprised he hasn’t given up already.
“Maybe,” I say, when he lets me stew for a moment.
“Lunch is done. I made enough for leftovers—if you want to take some home for the kids for dinner or whatever.” I nod, and he walks over and sits. “Serve us.”
“Yes, Sir.” It’s not until I’m on my feet at the counter that I remember I’m naked. I don’t know how I forgot. I guess just because he distracted me with conversation.
He made spaghetti, salad, and garlic bread. I pull the plates down, scoop some of everything on each one. I set a plate in front of him first, then set mine down. I get us ice water next, then sit.
