“Everyone likes surprises…”—a frown appeared—“the good kind.”
Chuckling at how cute Bowie was being, Kari stored his bag in the trunk, listening to Bowie encourage him to be quicker. The car journey home was pretty much the same, as Bowie moaned about all the slow drivers and the traffic signals on red while he fidgeted with his seatbelt.
“Should Daddy be worried?” asked Kari when he pulled into the parking space at the back of their apartment block.
“Worried?” Back was the frown that he could see in the car interior light when Bowie, who had opened the door, stopped to glance back at him. Impatience was written all over his face.
Fuck, he was adorable. “Yes, worried. You’re acting strangely and have been for days, and Daddy can’t figure out why.”
Bowie gave him a wide, toothy grin, upping the adorableness to a higher level, and tapped Kari’s knee.
“Don’t worry Daddy.” With that, he hopped out of the car and didn’t wait for Kari to follow.
Kari got out slower, perplexed but laughing at Bowie’s antics despite that. By the time he got to the apartment, there was no sign of Bowie, just the sounds of the shower running. Bowie always waited for him… always.
Placing his laptop back into the closet, Kari stripped off his suit to head into the bathroom, thoughts of sharing a shower dashed when Bowie was already out, towel wrapped around his waist. The same toothy grin was in place as he sailed past Kari who gave him a bemused look.
What the heck is he up to?
The tangible excitement was the only reason Kari didn’t chase after him and went into the still running shower, his mindunable to come up with what was with Bowie. Out and dried, he retrieved a pair of old sweats and a T-shirt that had a frayed collar, both of which were Bowie’s favorites. He was tactile and said they were as soft as butter when he rubbed his cheek against the fabric. Forgoing underwear, Kari also didn’t bother with brushing his hair, heading in search of Bowie who he could hear clattering around in the kitchen.
Kari caught a whiff of the taco filling he had made the night before as he wandered barefoot through the apartment. He came to a halt at the sight of Bowie busily preparing dinner. He glowed brightly. There was a light of happiness beaming out of him. There was no mistaking it, and Kari found himself leaning against the doorframe, appreciating how lucky he was to have this man in his life. To experience waking up with him wrapped in his arms. The pleasure of seeing the shy smile that seemed just for him. The contagious giggles. The exuberance when he played and wanted Kari to join in. His need to snuggle right in until he was lying fully on him, making Kari’s heart feel full. It was these simple things that Kari loved.
“Daddy, what are you doing all the way over there? Can you help me,”—Bowie glanced at the kitchen clock—“we’re running out of time.”
Kari shifted off the door frame and strolled to Bowie, his brow furrowing. “Are you sure you aren’t going out? Or is this part of the surprise?”
“Daddy, I’m not telling you.” He pointed to the cupboard. “Can you grab what we need, please. Oh, will you make a jug of the margaritas too, there’s supposed to be cocktails.” Bowie bit his lip straight after his request and dropped his gaze to the salad bits he was prepping for the tacos.
He wore a guilty look, but Kari gave up trying to guess why when evidently Bowie wanted to tell him in his own sweet time. “Cocktails it is.”
Kari busied himself setting the table, then making a pitcher of margaritas, grabbing the sugar for the rim rather than salt, which Bowie didn’t like. They didn’t often drink at home, where Bowie slipped more easily into being Little, so that excluded that from tonight’s plans.
By the time they sat at the table to eat, Bowie acted as if on a sugar high, one that wasn’t possible when they hadn’t sipped at the drinks Kari had poured. The food was consumed so fast that Kari worried Bowie would get indigestion. “Slow down, Babycakes, we’ve got all evening—”
“No, we don’t, Daddy. Hurry and eat up.” Back to looking at the clock on the wall, he rammed the last bit of taco into his mouth, munching and swallowing quickly. Sauce smeared his lips but went unnoticed as he rose, taking his empty plate to the sink.
Kari’s bemusement increased as he munched slowly on his taco, watching Bowie with interest as he flapped—it was the only word that fit—around the kitchen, then around the living area.
Seconds later, his plate was whipped away, and all Kari did was shake his head, except Bowie never noticed. Glass of cocktail in hand, he rushed over to the couch, a furrow between his brows, eyeing the coffee table they had pushed to the side to make floor space for Bowie.
Bottom lip between his teeth, he returned to the big table, placed his glass down and went to drag the table back in front of the couch. Kari watched in fascination. Bowie returned and got his glass, placing it on the newly moved table, grinning. “That’s better,” he mumbled, his head tilting as he examined the space thoughtfully.
His fingers clicked, and he was off and running out of the room, shaking his head. Kari got up, swallowing the last mouthful of food, and picked up his glass. Halfway to the couchBowie reappeared. With one look at Kari, he was shaking his head.
Chapter Forty-One
Bowie
“No, Daddy, you need to sit at the table,” he groaned in frustration. He pointed to the seat while he used the other hand to clutch at the laptop bag he’d gone to get from the bedroom.
It was difficult to contain all his feelings. The main one was excitement, though the nerves were coming in a close second when time was ticking and Kari was giving him that look. The one that said his patience might be wearing a little thin at Bowie acting nothing like himself. He knew it, but he’d never done anything like this before, and it was nerve-wracking keeping secrets.
“Babycakes—”
“Please, Daddy?” Bowie had learned that a begging voice could pretty much get him anything he wanted. Not that he used it—often.
Kari shook his head and said no more, returning to the table behind the couch.
