Brave Boy
A Perfect Boys Novel
K.M. Neuhold
Contents
Title Page
Blurb
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
More by K.M. Neuhold
About the Author
Stalk Me
Blurb
As long as LonelyDaddy is on the other side of the computer screen, there’s a chance he could be the man Emerson has been dreaming of.
I’ve gotten used to being alone, to disappearing inside the fictional worlds between the pages of a book and letting my lonely life fade away.
Books have never judged me for the stutter I can’t control. Books have never abandoned me. Books have never let me down. Then again, books have never hugged me or told me they loved me either, so my plan is far from perfect.
The first time I lay eyes on the tall, red-haired Kiernan with a beard for days and shoulders made for scratch marks, I wanted to crawl onto his lap and call him Daddy. The only problem is, I can never seem to string two words together around him… Heck, I’d be happy to manage to get even one word out, like maybe “yes,” preferably over and over again.
I thought making an online dating profile would be the hardest part, but it turns out getting up the courage to meet the man I’ve been messaging is even more difficult. Could LonelyDaddy be Kiernan? And if he is, is there any chance he’ll want to keep me? Can I be his brave boy?
***Brave Boy is the online love-sweet, ginger Daddy—totally swoony—second book in the Perfect Boys series and can be read as a stand-alone.
Copyright
Brave Boy© 2021 by K.M.Neuhold
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Book and Cover design by Natasha Snow Designs
Cover Image by CJC Photography
Cover Model Brock Grady
Editor: Editing by Rebecca
Proof Reading by Abbie Nicole
Chapter 1
Emerson
I tug my favorite T-shirt—purple with a sparkly unicorn on the front—over my head and then drag my fingers through my wild curls in a half-hearted attempt to tame them. Glancing down at myself, I fiddle with the hem of my shirt and blow out a long breath, wondering…just, wondering.
That’s the thing about being invited to a surprise party for your best friend’s Daddy— and I don’t mean father—it makes a guy wonder certain things, like whether he’ll ever find the firm but gentle Daddy of his own dreams or if he’s better off giving up and settling for his head full of fantasies instead.
It isn’t that I’m not cute enough to be the boy some perfect Daddy lusts after. I’m not tragically oblivious to my own good looks or anything. I fully own my slim-but-toned figure, bouncy booty, and bow-shaped pink lips. I see the way men of all ages and types look at me. The problem comes when I open my mouth.
My phone vibrates on my dresser, dancing over the messy surface while I hurry to pull up my jeans and then answer it before I miss the call.
“Hey, S-S-SSS-Sterling.”
“Em, I’m so glad ya answered. You already on the way over?” I smile to myself at the sound of my friend’s accent. I’ve never told him, but I think it’s really cute. I’m sure his Daddy, Barrett, tells him all the time. A small jealous pang twists in my chest.
“No,” I say, checking my reflection once more before sitting on the foot of my bed so I can put my shoes on.
“Perfect. Can I ask you to do me a teeny little favor? With all the planning I’ve been doin’ all day, I forgot to pick up Daddy’s cake. Ya couldn’t stop by the bakery for me, could ya?”
“S-s-sss…” I huff out an annoyed breath at the way the word gets stuck on my lips. “Yes,” I manage instead. “I’ll l-leave now and be there s-s-soon.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you. I owe you big time. It’s already paid for. You just have to swing by Hershman’s and pick it up.”
“You got it,” I assure him again. If I’m honest, I’m relieved to have a task. I never got around to figuring out what kind of a present to take for a man who’s a literal billionaire with everything he could possibly want. Doing a favor on the day of the party counts as a present, right?
I pause one more time to do a last check in the full-length hallway mirror. I’m not usually this vain, but it’s not every night that I know I’m going to be bumping into a certain ginger-haired, wet-dream-inspiring, seriously-that-voice-though Daddy. At least I think Kiernan is a Daddy. From the conversations I’ve overheard between Barrett and his business partners, it seems they all are.
Not that it matters. I definitely didn’t pick my favorite unicorn shirt in the hope that he’ll give me that teasing smirk and say “cute shirt” like he did the first time we met. Of course, I immediately turned tomato red and forgot how to string two words together, so not the best first impression on my part. And it hasn’t gotten much better since then. Every time I see him, I swear I somehow get even more tongue-tied than the last time. Hot mess: table for one.
Satisfied that I’m as cute as I’m going to manage, I grab my keys and head out the door.
Even with the stop at the bakery on the way, it’s not long before I’m pulling into the massive driveway that leads up to Barrett’s mansion. I shouldn’t be surprised that a valet is waiting to take my keys when I climb out of my car.
I’m careful not to jostle the cake too much as I make my way up the large set of steps that lead to the front door. The cake is decorated with what appears to be fireflies made out of frosting and the words “Happy Birthday, Barrett.” I don’t want to be the cause of any tragically smeared frosting.
Sterling pulls open the door before I even make it all the way up the steps as if he’s been waiting for me on the other side since we got off the phone. There’s a distinct possibility that’s exactly what he’s been doing.
“You’re a lifesaver,” he says, relief written all over his face as he takes the cake from me and leads me inside.
“It’s n-no p-p-problem,” I assure him, glancing around as soon as we’re inside for any sign that Kiernan is already here. Sterling heads straight for the kitchen with the cake, and I follow him.
“We have cake,” he announces happily as we step into the large room with vaulted ceilings and marble countertops. Seems like a lot to worry about keeping clean if you ask me, but what do I know?
The kitchen is filled with people. I’ve met some of them before. Lorna, Barrett’s sister; Nolan and Gannon, employees of his; and Alden, his other—and much more intimidating—business partner, are all here. And then there are some people I don’t recognize. But no Kiernan.
I do my best to ignore the momentary flair of disappointment. I’m sad Kiernan is
n’t here because now I won’t have the chance to blush and stutter like an idiot in his general direction? What an epic tragedy. Eyeroll.
“Em, so glad to see you!” Nolan greets me with a surprising amount of enthusiasm. He’s the event planner for Russell Investments. Basically, it’s his job to throw fabulous parties that encourage other rich people to fork over their money to good causes and business startups. He looks every bit the part, too, with glitter on his cheeks and a bright-pink, tailored tux. “Sterling and I were just discussing how things are going with your mobile library project, and I was telling him that I would love to get involved in whatever capacity would be helpful.”
He takes a sip from the martini glass he’s holding and smiles at me expectantly. I share a quick look with Sterling, wondering if he feels as thrown off by Nolan’s earnest zeal as I am. He seems like a nice enough guy, but there’s just something a little…overeager about him that I’m not sure how to handle.
“C-cool,” I say with a smile, casting a quick look around in search of where I might get a drink of my own.
I spot what appears to be a makeshift bar and shuffle over to it, Nolan staying right at my side. “You know, I actually have some ideas I wanted to run by both of you about the libraries.”
I nod along while I mix a drink, practicing the words in my head to tell him that they’re really Sterling’s thing; I’m just helping out. It always helps when I’ve practiced something ahead of time, but it’s no guarantee my mouth will cooperate once I try to get it out.
“You should tell S-S-S…tell him.” I take a sip of my drink and then smile at Nolan. “He’s the brains behind the whole thing. I’m not s-sure how I got s-s-s…dragged into this.”
“‘Cause you’re brilliant and know a lot more about distributing books than I do,” Sterling butts in.
That’s debatable. Just because I own a bookstore, that Sterling works in as my sole employee, doesn’t mean I know jack shit about jack shit. My grandpa left me a pile of money and even more books. Opening a bookstore was the only thing I could think to do with them. I love my quirky little indie bookshop, but that doesn’t mean I know a damn thing when it comes to mobile libraries or much of anything else.
“I know a l-lot about r-r-reading books, but—” Before I can finish what I’m about to say, the air in the room feels like it shifts. Maybe I’m a tad dramatic, but I swear it’s like a movie moment where everything stands still and the camera zooms in on the Adonis of a man who just stepped into the room.
Kiernan
I unfasten the button on my suit jacket and reach up to loosen the constricting tie around my neck while I sweep the busy kitchen to make sure everything is in order for Barrett’s birthday party. Not that I don’t trust his boy to handle it, and I have no doubt he enlisted Nolan’s help to plan the perfect party, but what can I say? I can’t rest easy until I feel like I have control of any given situation. A therapist would likely have a field day with me, given my issues with my father and the fact that I like men to call me Daddy—both in bed and out—but it works for me, and I’m not enlisting any professional opinions on the matter at this point.
Everything seems to be in order: cake, finger foods, alcohol… I would’ve hired waiters and a bartender, but given where Sterling came from not long ago, I doubt it crossed his mind to hire staff for the party.
Speaking of Barrett’s sweet boy, I spot him near the alcohol station, apparently conversing with Nolan and my sweet little unicorn himself…Emerson.
I take a second to enjoy the sight of him before he notices I’m here. His face has a lovely tan, his features relatively relaxed as he takes a sip from his glass. His lips are so pink I have to wonder if he puts anything on them—lipstick, lip gloss—if not, would he consider it if I asked nicely? I groan quietly at the thought of the boy kneeling between my thighs, letting me paint his lips an even more eye-catching shade than they already are.
Then again, it would be an utter shame to hide his natural features. Maybe something clear and shiny instead…
“He’s not on the menu,” Alden says in a deadpan tone, sidling up beside me and following my gaze.
“Says who?” I ask.
That’s when the boy notices me, his attention shifting from his friends and zeroing in on me, his cheeks turning bright pink in an instant. I can’t deny that it’s heady to see visual proof of the effect I have on him. The problem is that I can’t tell if it’s attraction or if he’s intimidated by me for some reason.
“Says Barrett,” my business partner and friend reminds me.
“Well, that would be a problem if I were Sterling. But last I checked, Barrett isn’t the boss of me.” I smirk and start across the room toward the beverages, suddenly absolutely parched.
Emerson’s breath appears to quicken as I approach. He takes another sip of his drink, spilling some of it down his chin and then wiping it with the back of his hand with an utterly flustered expression on his face. Adorable.
Most everyone in attendance is wearing dress shirts, if not designer suits, but not him. He’s wearing jeans and a purple unicorn T-shirt. I’m starting to wonder if he has a closet full of them or if he wears this particular shirt special just for me. I rather like the idea of the latter. My cock thickens at the idea of the boy dressing with me in mind, even if we’ve only exchanged a few words of conversation and I have no right to such fantasies.
“Emerson,” I purr his name when I reach him, and the blush on his cheeks deepens.
Instead of saying anything in response, he takes another deep gulp from his drink, nearly polishing the entire thing off in one go. He casts a glance full of pleading in Sterling’s direction, and my previously stirring cock deflates. Maybe he is afraid of me. I can’t think of any reason for him to feel that way, but I have been told on more than one occasion that I have a rather intimidating presence before you get to know me.
Before I can decide on my next move, Sterling checks his phone and grins. “He’s pulling up right now. Everybody has to hide.”
“Hide?” Alden repeats, arching an unamused eyebrow.
“Of course. It ain’t no surprise if he walks in here to find us all standin’ around in the kitchen,” he reasons, fixing a determined expression on his face that says he’s not about to back down on this.
I guess we’re all going to hide.
Everyone begins to disperse to the living room to duck behind furniture without any dignity or elegance. It’s a bit of fun, if I’m honest, to see all of these well-to-do, well-dressed people crouching on the floor in the dark.
I find myself behind the armchair, shoulder to shoulder with Emerson. It wasn’t planned, but I’m certainly not complaining about the turn of events. Given his reaction to my earlier approach, I do my best not to make him feel too crowded in the confined space. Still, I can’t help but notice the comforting smell that seems to be wafting off of him. He smells like a quiet summer night, like peace and relaxation. There’s something so sweet about it, that it’s not cologne or anything artificial. A smile curves on my lips. …he smells like books.
It makes me want to find out more about him. Who is Emerson aside from the adorable, unicorn-loving bookstore owner? As silly as I feel hiding behind a chair, possibly ruining my expensive pants, I would gladly stay cloistered back here the rest of the night just to get the chance to talk to him, to find out if I could coax a few words out of him.
He turns his head a fraction, like he’s trying to look at me without being too obvious. In my mind, I run through a thousand things to say—clever things, funny things, dirty things—but before I have a chance to settle on any of them, the front door opens.
“I’m home, Pretty Boy,” Barrett calls out, lights flickering on as his footsteps grow near. “Are you sitting in the dark?”
The living room light comes on, and we all pop out of our hiding places and shout, “Surprise!” The look on Barrett’s face is priceless, and I have to admit that Sterling was right; it was a lot more fun to h
ide for the surprise.
Sterling runs over and jumps into Barrett’s arms. He stumbles back a little but catches his boy with relative ease and kisses him senseless. A pang of longing zings through my chest, watching the two of them in a sweet lip-lock before they part and just smile at each other for a few seconds with these sweet, dopey grins that would be a little nauseating if I didn’t want what they have so damn badly.
Barrett sets him down, and that’s apparently a signal for the party to really start. Someone starts some music, and people begin to congregate around the food, booze, and birthday boy.
“Do you want another drink?” I offer Emerson, nodding toward the empty glass in his hand. He looks down at it as if he’s surprised to realize he finished the entire thing already.
After a few seconds, he nods and offers me the glass. “Thank y-y-y…” His cheeks pink again, and he clamps his lips shut.
“You’re welcome.” I take the glass. “Martini?” I guess.
He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head quickly. “Vodka and S-S-SS-Sprite.”
Emerson looks embarrassed again, and I’m not sure if it’s because he thinks his stutter is something to be ashamed of, or he assumes I’m judging his choice of drink. He couldn’t be more wrong about either.
When I reach the drink station, Barrett’s there, mixing two drinks.
“Happy birthday, man,” I say, using my free hand to pull him into a hug and pat him on the back.
“Thanks. I can’t believe Sterling pulled this all together without me knowing about it.” He smiles fondly and shakes his head. I’ve known Barrett most of my life, and I’ve never seen him as happy as he’s been since he met his boy. As envious as I am, I’d be a complete and utter dick if I weren’t also over the moon thrilled for my best friend.
“He’s a good one,” I agree, squeezing his shoulder one more time and then grabbing the vodka and Sprite for Emerson’s drink.
Brave Boy (Perfect Boys Book 2) Page 1