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Tessa was already enjoying herself. But she was worried about staying here for free. She’d saved up a little money back home and had planned to use it for her fresh start. Auntie wouldn’t let her pay anything, though. Perhaps she’d change her mind soon, when Tessa was bringing in a paycheck from the studio.

Looking at Damon, Tessa thought it seemed as if he wanted to say something.

Instead, he just smiled some more and said, “It sounds like everything is going to work out wonderfully. I’m happy you made it here safely. And on behalf of the Welcoming Committee, welcome to Hollywood.”

Tessa giggled. “Thank you, Sir. But is the Welcoming Committee a real thing?”

He shook his head. “Not in the least.”

She giggled again.

Their eyes remained locked on each other for a moment. Tessa later chalked it up to just her overactive imagination—or trying to manifest her desires—but she could have sworn that, in the moment, something passed between them.

It also still seemed as if there was something Damon wanted to say. She could read it in his eyes, she just couldn’t figure out what it was.

He wasn’t going to confess his undying love-at-first-sight for her. That notion was ridiculous. But there seemed to be something on his mind, just wanting to come out.

Hmm. Perhaps soon enough he’d feel comfortable saying it.

That is, if they ever saw each other again.

Of course, if he was a regular at Auntie Athena’s—and Iris had told her lots of people from the local ageplay scene dropped in—then they most likely would run into each other at least a couple of more times.

Time would tell.

They looked into each other’s eyes for another few seconds as time seemed to stand still.

“Well, I best be going,” Damon announced.

“Whoa there, slugger. You’re not driving anywhere,” Athena countered.

“Did you just call me slugger?” Damon chuckled.

Athena gave him a stare that could have cut glass.

“Okay, okay,” he said, putting up his hands in surrender. “I’m not driving anywhere.”

“I can take him home,” a deep voice boomed from behind them.

Tessa didn’t even have to look to know who’d just walked into the kitchen.

Trevon, the nursery’s personal protector and director of security, had a voice so deep it could probably rattle a car’s windows like a high-end sound system with the base turned up to ten.

His appearance matched his voice. The Black man was a mountain with muscles bulging out of muscles. The overhead lights gleamed off his perfectly smooth, bald head.

“I would appreciate that. But will you fit in my car?” Damon said.

“Hell no! Can you see me fitting in that damn little thing? It’s like a damn Hot Wheels toy to me.” The seven-foot-tall man looked at the Littles. “Excuse my language, cuties.”

The women giggled.

“That thing is a Ferrari 296 GTB,” Damon told Trevon. “It cost three hundred and fifty thousand.”

Tessa nearly fell over at the revelation.

Who the heck paid that kind of money for a car?

In the little blue-collar town she came from, that kind of cash could have bought a seriously nice house!