by Sammi Cee
“You look…nice,” Sarge told me after I opened the door to my apartment that evening.
True to his word, Billy went all out to ensure I looked my absolute best for the evening. Yes, he said Fourth Street Grill was low-key, but that didn’t stop him from getting me a black, long-sleeved shirt with cutouts along the shoulder and side to give just a peek of my skin. The pants were also black, but a bit lighter in shade and almost skintight. And he also tossed in a bottle of cologne.
When I tried to tell him it was too much, he kissed my cheek, told me to use lots of lube and a condom, and practically ran from my apartment so I could get ready. But as I critically eyed myself in the mirror, I wasn’t entirely sure about the ensemble and worried I needed to change. The look in Sarge’s eyes made me glad I didn’t.
“You look nice, too,” I said softly.
And he did. With his faded jeans, hunter green Henley T-shirt, and boots, he looked more delicious than the meal I’d planned on eating, and I hoped like hell I could taste him for dessert.
“Thanks. Let’s go.”
Sarge waited while I locked my door, and then he led me down the hall and toward his truck. He opened the door for me and shut it while I fastened my seatbelt, and when he climbed in beside me, I could’ve sworn my heart was beating so loudly he could hear it inside the cab. And the way he fastened his own seatbelt and went to start the ignition, the slight tremor in his hand told me he was just as nervous as I was, and that made me feel better.
“So, I’ve never been to that restaurant before. What’s good to eat?” I asked him to break the silence.
“I’m a red meat kind of man, so I go for the steak or ribs. But they also have burgers and seafood.”
“What do you suggest I get?”
Sarge glanced at me, and I could see his eyes flash under the headlights of a passing car. “Steak. You need to keep your protein up.”
“Steak it is, then.”
We were immediately seated when we walked in, and that was because Sarge had called ahead to let them know we were coming. I glanced around at the exposed brick walls, wooden tables, and vinyl booths, and at various artwork credited by local artists as we walked to our table. It was in the back, under a canoe that’d been anchored to the ceiling, and I noted there were barely any other people near us. We’d have privacy.
“Your waitress is Di. She’ll be by soon,” the hostess said as she handed us plastic menus.
I thanked her while Sarge grunted, and then we were both silent as we looked over the menu, though I planned on getting a steak thanks to Sarge’s suggestion. We didn’t speak again until after we placed our food orders with Di and our drinks—both of us opted for sodas—were placed in front of us.
“I’m surprised you didn’t get beer,” I said softly.
“I own a bar. I can have all the beer or alcohol I want. Sometimes it’s a nice break to have a soda.”
“That’s understandable.”
I reached for a hot, buttery roll to do something to keep my hands busy, and after ripping it open, I spread some cinnamon butter on the inside. It was only after I’d chewed a bite that I glanced up to find Sarge staring at me.
“What?” I asked him, and stuck out my tongue to lick the little glob of butter from the corner of my mouth.
Sarge shifted in his seat and let out a low, deep hum that sounded more like a rumble. “I want to know about you. Tell me your story, boy.”
That word again. Being called boy should have felt as patronizing as being called kid, but coming from Sarge, it did something to me I couldn’t explain. It made me want to rip off my clothes and offer myself up to him for the taking. To own me.
“There isn’t much to tell,” I said softly, setting my half-eaten roll on the small bread plate.
“I doubt that. For this to potentially work, I need to know about you.”
“Shouldn’t I say the same about you?” Though, I wasn’t sure what “this” he was referring to. A relationship? Him being my Daddy? Were they one and the same? I really didn’t have much to reference a Daddy/boy dynamic aside from my friend.
“This isn’t about me, right now. I asked you to tell me about yourself.”
I wanted to point out he didn’t ask, that he demanded, but I refrained. Being bratty on our first date probably wasn’t the best thing to do.
“Well, as you know, I’m twenty-five. I used to mow lawns before my job was outsourced, and I’ve been living on my own for several years.”
“And?”
“And what?” I asked, hoping my vague answer was sufficient enough.
“That’s just the surface. Any allergies? Pet peeves? How long have you been single? And what happened to your parents?”
“I’m allergic to cats. My biggest pet peeve is cheaters. I’ve pretty much always been single, and I lived with my mom and uncle until my mom died.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
I shrugged because I didn’t want any pity. “It was a long time ago.”
“Grief doesn’t have a time limit. You can’t still live with your uncle?”
“Not anymore. I get by, except I do wish I could go back and finish college.”
“What would you go to school for?”
“Photography,” I said with a wistful smile.
“I see. Do you have any equipment?”
I scoffed. “A decent camera would cost more than a year of my rent. Maybe one day.”
Di appeared then, and I was grateful for the interruption. I didn’t like talking about myself, especially when the subject was something so heavy. Both my parents were gone, but I’d tried my hardest not to let their deaths affect me, and discussing them wasn’t exactly a great topic of conversation for a first date.
The steak was cooked to perfection, with just the right amount of pink to keep it juicy. The potatoes were thick and buttery, and the grilled vegetables were seasoned to add just a hint of spice.
“This food is amazing,” I groaned around the bite in my mouth.
“Their chef here was trained in New York. He moved back after he got married and opened this place.”
“Really? How do you know that?”
“I own a bar. I know a lot of things.”
“How long have you owned it?”
“Over ten years.”
“Have you always wanted to own a bar?”
I waited for Sarge to tell me it wasn’t any of my business, but he surprised me by saying, “I had, and it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”
That was a vague answer, but I had to take it since the other option was for him not to answer at all.
“Do you want anything else?” Sarge asked when the waitress reappeared to grab our empty plates.
“No, I’m stuffed.” I sighed as I leaned back in my chair and patted my stomach.
“They have great portions here.”
“I can see that.”
After settling the bill and leaving a hefty tip, we walked back to his truck in silence and he drove me back to my apartment. The dinner had gone better than I’d hoped, and I didn’t feel a bit of awkwardness or unease around him. Even though he asked tough questions and left me no choice but to answer, I felt safe and comfortable around Sarge. Which was something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Well, thank you for dinner,” I said softly when we hovered outside my door.
“It was my pleasure.”
I wasn’t sure how to do this, but I knew I wasn’t ready for him to leave.
“Did you want to come in?” I asked softy, bracing myself for him to decline my invitation.
“Maybe for a little while,” he surprised me by saying.
I fumbled with my keys as I unlocked my door, and after pushing it open, I stepped inside and caught my breath when he shut the door behind us.
“Finally,” he grumbled when his thick hands landed on my hips and spun me around to face him. “It’s time for dessert.”
Then his lips crashed into mine
.
Chapter Twelve
Sarge
My hands roved down from Davis's hips and cupped his pert little ass before I hefted him into my arms. A cute little grunt escaped him, and I smiled against his lips. He wrapped his legs around my hips while I carried us to the ratty futon and sat down with him straddling me. For several long moments, I delved my tongue into his mouth, enjoying his taste. Hints from the meal we’d shared lingered but couldn’t override his own fresh taste.
Unfortunately, I knew we couldn’t get too carried away. As much as I wanted Davis, I wanted—no, needed him safe more, which meant we had to have a conversation. Breaking our kiss was painstaking, but I forced myself to pull back and set my forehead on his. “We need to talk, boy.”
“Okay, after dessert.” Then he pushed his lips back into mine. The little sweetheart’s tongue hesitantly swiped against the seam of my lips, so I gave in for one last searing kiss. It was only fair to give him this before I disrupted our pleasant date with real talk. Depending on what he revealed, I wasn’t sure we could take this…connection between us any further.
“Davis?” I murmured against his lips.
“What?” he whined.
His disgruntled mumble almost caused me to go in for another taste of him and chase that frown away, but even though I wasn’t sure what was going to happen between us, I knew that I needed him to really hear what I had to say. “We have to talk.” I kept my voice low, soothing, but he must have heard the seriousness in my tone because his glazed over eyes began to clear as he settled himself to focus in on me.
“Did you not have a good time tonight?”
I squeezed his hips. “You know damn well I had a good time. Dinner was excellent and your company even better. But I’ve had a concern since I picked you up for work that I can’t dismiss.” His face flushed with embarrassment as his gaze flicked around his small living room. “Hey.” I captured his chin between my fingers and made him look into my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
He tried to scoot back off my lap, but I didn’t allow it, snaking my other arm around his waist and holding him firmly in place. “It’s just that…this is why I didn’t want anyone to come here. I know it’s a dump, but I had to have somewhere to live, you know? And it’s cheap, and I can still barely afford it.”
It was a roof over his head, I would give him that. “Don’t you have any family or anyone you could stay with?”
He shook his head, sadly. “My mom and I lived with my uncle my whole life. It worked out pretty well. The two of them together did the best they could. It’s how I got my job at the college, actually. My uncle was a maintenance man, so when there was an opening right before I turned sixteen, he got his friend to give me a shot. It was the first and only place I’d ever worked.” Vaguely, I recalled that from his resume. “It helped us out a lot because my mom wasn’t in the best health, so she didn’t always work, and my uncle appreciated the help once I had a paycheck, too.” A touch of pride entered his voice.
This boy lived to tug at my heartstrings. A teenager with their first job should’ve been playing with his money, and this one… I dropped my hand from his chin and wrapped him up tightly in my arms. He burrowed in and hummed contently. “Where’s your uncle now?” It didn’t take a brain surgeon to know he wouldn’t have left Davis on his own after his mom died if he didn’t have to.
“My uncle was injured in a freak accident on campus and is in a long-term care facility. It left him unable to work or do much of anything on his own. My mom was still alive then, she tried to take care of him, but there were already so many days that she barely got out of bed on her own, and I was gone all day, so…” he trailed off.
Now he was gutting me. “How old were you when that happened, babe?”
“Nineteen.”
“Were you in college?”
“I had started, but after his accident…” Tears were clogging his voice, and I knew enough. He had nowhere else to go.
“So, this is what I propose.”
With my abrupt change in topic he jerked back, eyeing me suspiciously. “Propose for what?”
“Your living situation.”
Davis shook his head in confusion. “But what do you mean propose? This is all I can afford.”
“Yeah, well, anything they’re charging you for this place is too much money. This place should be condemned and knocked down.”
Davis's snort was full of derision. “Why do you think I can afford it? Listen, you don’t have to worry about me.”
I peered at him disbelieving. “Do you honestly think I can sleep at night knowing you’re coming back to this place? The last couple of nights have been hell. I toss and turn and stare at the ceiling wondering if you’re okay.”
The roll of Davis's eyes left no doubt to how ridiculous he thought I was. “It’s not that bad. I’ve never been robbed or anything. And really, in a place like this, if you mind your business, people pretty much leave you be.”
“Hmm.” I gave him a pointed, searching look. “So you’re telling me you’ve never once been scared living here?”
He couldn’t meet my eyes, shifting his gaze back over my shoulder. “I was a little scared at first maybe. But it was all new. I’d always lived with my uncle and mom in the same house. That was an adjustment all on its own.” His shoulders lifted wearily before he dropped them. “Sometimes in life, it is what it is, and we have to roll with it, right?”
“And sometimes in life, people step in and can make it easier.”
He shifted his gaze back to my face. “Like with a proposal?” I tilted my head in acknowledgment. With a resigned sigh, he said, “I’m probably not going to do whatever it is, but I’ll at least listen.”
I chuckled with amusement. He thought my proposal was a choice. Cute. “Okay, boy, here’s the deal. We’re all worried, me, Bull, Lawson, Ralph, now that we know where you’re living.”
“Billy’s known where I’ve lived almost from the beginning, though. Ask him, he’ll tell you it’s fine. I keep my head down, move quickly, don’t make eye-contact—”
I cut him off. “Woah, woah, woah. That is no way to live, and I did talk to Billy. If he wasn’t on the lease with the people he’s staying with, he’d have already moved so you guys could be roommates. He hates you living here.”
His bottom lip popped out. “Oh. I didn’t know. Look, you’re my boss and I appreciate your concern, but you pay me a fair wage, and now that I’m a waiter, I’m starting to have a little extra money.”
Davis was obviously uncomfortable, fidgeting in my lap and avoiding meeting my gaze as much as possible, but his safety wasn’t something I could blow off. “So what you’re saying is you’re saving to get a better place?”
I knew damn well he didn’t have close to enough money, and the dejected shrug of his shoulders confirmed it. “That’s it then.”
“What’s it?”
“You’ll come stay with me.”
This time he managed to break out of my grasp, jumping up and staring down at me with his hands on his hips. “Are you crazy?”
“It’s the only way. You can’t stay with Billy or anyone else, and since I have the space, that leaves me.”
“I… I… can’t just live with you.” His face turned a pleasant shade of pink, and it was adorable—not that I’d ever tell him that.
“Why not?” I asked conversationally. I had a few reasons why, but if I showed fear, he’d never agree to my offer.
“It would be… I mean, we’ve only… We’ve never even… and what if we—”
His coloring became alarmingly fuchsia. “Davis.” He ignored me and continued stammering, so I said, “Boy,” in my sternest voice.
He stopped yammering and blinked in my direction, still not meeting my eye.
“Listen to what I’m saying. You’ll have your own room, your own space. I go to work hours before you have to come in, so you’ll have time to yourself. It’ll be like we’re roommates.”
“Roommate
s?” he asked, quickly hiding his disappointment.
“For now.”
“Wh-what does for now mean?”
Scrubbing my hand down my face, I fell back against the back of the futon, which wiggled under my weight, reconfirming the necessity of getting him out of this place. “It means that anything else between us will have to progress organically.” His frown forced me to continue. “Listen, I hadn’t planned on getting involved again. It’s been many years since I’ve had a… Well, since I’ve been in a relationship, and it’s not you I’m worried about making it work, it’s me.”
Davis's eyes widened, and he took a step back. “Seriously? It’s not you, it’s me? If you don’t want”—he gestured between us—“to date me, you can just tell me the truth. And honestly, I’m fine here. This place is safe as long as you know what to do, and I’ve been here long enough now that I do.”
My first thought was this sweet, timid boy even walking into this place alone once was too much. “Davis, I want to date you. And it may be selfish of me, but I like you too much to offer you a place to stay and not still want to get to know you better. It’s just…complicated.”
His gaze shifted back to the ground. “Then I don’t understand.”
I blew out a shaky breath and patted the seat next to me. “Come sit down, then. I’ll do my best to explain.”
He sat meekly on the corner of the futon, one cheek hanging off. “Okay. Explain,” he said sadly.
Ugh. I was making a mess of this. I wanted him to trust me to keep him safe, and yet, I was the one harming him. “So, where to start?” I paused.
“My mom always used to tell me to start at the beginning,” he said softly.
My lips ticked up into a tiny grin. “I think that’s a universal mother thing, and you’re right. I had a long-term relationship with a man named Jeffery.” Why was this so hard?