Brave Boy (Perfect Boys Book 2)

by K. M. Neuhold

  “C-c-can I help you w-w-w-w-with anything?” Even as I struggle to get the question out, I’m pretty sure it’s the most words I’ve ever spoken to him in a row. That’s progress, right? Maybe talking to LonelyDaddy really is giving me the confidence I’ve been needing. Baby steps, anyway.

  I shelve the book I’ve been holding onto and head toward the front of the store.

  “I was in the neighborhood,” he answers vaguely, following a few steps behind me.

  I scrunch my eyebrows, unable to hide my confusion. He was in the neighborhood and just decided to stop by? Why? I’m not exactly a rousing conversationalist when he’s around. I can awkwardly shove more of my favorite books at him if he wants.

  I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say in return, and the uncertainty makes my chest feel tight and my tongue feel heavy. I fidget with the hem of my shirt and then start compulsively nudging various items on the counter into only slightly different locations.

  LonelyDaddy said it would be easier with the right person. Did he mean that I’d miraculously feel less uncomfortable and fidgety with the right man, or that the Daddy who’s meant for me would know how to handle it and make it easier for me?

  Points in Kiernan’s favor, he simply stands there quietly, not pressing me to say anything or seeming particularly irritated with my nervous fidgeting.

  “Can I ask you something?” He leans over the counter enough to bring him closer to me, but not enough to feel like he’s encroaching on my personal space.

  I nod, my pulse quickening. I hope whatever he asks doesn’t require a long answer. Maybe he’ll ask for a date again, and I’ll be able to get the words out the right way this time.

  “Do you have any tattoos?” His question startles me. Of all the things to ask, how did he come up with that? “I’ve been thinking of getting one,” he goes on as if he can read my mind, or maybe he’s just aware of how strange the question is.

  So he wants a recommendation for a local artist? He wants to know if it hurts? What? Whatever it is, revealing the slightly embarrassing fact that I have a Pegasus tramp stamp isn’t going to help much. I didn’t get it done locally, and I was drunk, so I have no idea if it hurt.

  I give a quick shake of my head. “N-nnn-no.”

  His face falls, looking way more disappointed than I would’ve expected at my answer. Is the tattoo thing one of his kinks? Shit, maybe I should tell him the truth…

  Before I get the chance, he puts on a fresh smile and stands up straight. “I should be going. I just wanted to stop by and say thank you for the book recommendation last time. It was excellent; I couldn’t put it down.”

  A smile spreads over my lips. Is there anything more exciting than someone enjoying your favorite book? I can’t think of a single thing. I hold up a finger to tell him to wait for a second, and then I hustle around the counter and over to the fiction section. It only takes me a second to find the book I’m looking for. It’s a bizarre, dark-humor story with a very similar vibe to the one I gave him last time.

  I take it over and hold it out to him. “Y-yy-you’ll like this.”

  He doesn’t bother to flip it open this time, just tucks it under his arm and pulls out his wallet.

  “Between you and me, before I joined this book club, a majority of what I read was…well, basically porn,” he confesses in a low whisper, a wicked smirk forming on his mouth. My eyes are drawn to the curve of his lips, and I can’t help but wonder what his untamed beard would feel like against my skin. I squirm a little, imagining the chafe of beard burn on the insides of my thighs or between my ass cheeks.

  If it was LonelyDaddy I was messaging with, and he said the same thing, I might share a confession of my own that I write gloriously filthy stories under a secret pen name. But I can’t tell Kiernan that. Not only because I know there’s no way I’d be able to get it out around my clumsy lips and tongue, but because it’s too big of a secret, and I’m not sure what he would think. So instead I just blush and smile back, miming zipping my lips so he knows his secret is safe with me.

  “Have a good day, Emerson.” The way he says my name, caressing it with his mouth before he lets it fall from his lips, should be a crime, I swear.

  He’s already out the door before I manage to mutter, “You too.”

  I sag against the counter and bury my face in my hands. Another rousingly successful encounter.

  Kiernan

  I didn’t realize until Emerson told me he didn’t have any tattoos that deep down, I really thought he was BraveBoy. Hoped is more like. He’s not, and I’m not sure how to feel about that or how I should move forward with the temptingly sweet boy who’s just begging to be treated right by the Daddy of his dreams.

  I lean back in my desk chair, absently stroking my thumb against the glossy cover of the hardcover book Emerson sent me off with today. My options are to either keep things platonic with BB and continue to hold out hope that Emerson’s “no” about the date was out of nervousness rather than disinterest or to leave that crush in the past and see how things unfold with my mystery boy.

  There are a million reasons the latter is the better option, the most important being that even if I got a “yes” from Emerson, I’m still not sure if he’s into the lifestyle. BB could be everything I’ve been waiting for, and there’s a strong connection there.

  A rumble of irritation at my indecision vibrates through my chest.

  “Sounds like someone’s in a good mood today,” Alden says. I look up to find him leaning against the doorway to my office.

  “I’m in a fine mood.” I push my book aside and swivel in my chair, waving him in. “What’s up?”

  “Just stretching my legs,” he says, striding into my office. Instead of sitting, he walks over to the window, his hands in his pockets as he looks out. Why he wanted to look out my window rather than his own, god knows, but since he’s here…

  “Can I get your advice on something?”

  “Yes, you should trim your beard. You look like a dock worker.”

  “Fuck off,” I reply with a smirk. “I’m torn between two possible paths.”

  “You mean two possible boys?” he guesses.

  “Mm,” I grunt in agreement.

  “Are both an option?” Alden asks, ticking one eyebrow up and nearly smirking.

  “For one night of fun? Maybe if I played my cards right and wished on the right star. But I’m not looking to see how many boys I can fit into my bed all at once, I’m…I’m tired of being alone. I want someone permanent.”

  “Permanence and one are not mutually exclusive concepts, but we can leave that aside for now,” he says. “I’m assuming your choices are between Emerson and this boy you met on the app?”

  “Mm,” I hum again, testing the bounce of my chair back by rocking a little as I jostle my knee.

  “And you’re going to choose this forever partner based on whoever I tell you to pursue?” he asks, his voice dripping with skepticism. When he puts it that way, it does sound ludicrous. “Your heart knows the right answer. And if it doesn’t, then give it time and you’ll figure it out.”

  “My heart knows the answer?” I repeat. “When did you start writing for Hallmark?”

  “Fuck off,” he replies without venom. “That’s my advice, take it or leave it.”

  “Thanks.”

  He remains silent by my window for another minute or two, and I start to wonder if I should ask him if there’s something on his mind. I’ve known the man for nearly two decades, and he’s never been one to shy away from saying whatever he’s thinking. He walks out as unexpectedly as he entered, and I make a mental note to ask Barrett if he knows what’s going on with our friend.

  In the meantime, I pull out my phone and send a message to BraveBoy.

  LonelyDaddy: How’s your day going, beautiful? Did you sleep well?

  BraveBoy: I slept really well, and I’m having a good day.

  BraveBoy: I think I slept TOO well though. I have too much energy.
<
br />   LonelyDaddy: A good workout always helps me with that.

  BraveBoy: You have no idea how badly I could use a good workout.

  Even through text, the words are clearly dripping with innuendo. I grin at the words, compelled to test the waters of flirtation and see if he might be interested in more than simple friendship.

  LonelyDaddy: Is that so, naughty boy?

  I send the message and hold my breath, waiting to see if he takes the bait or steers things back to platonic joking. If he does, I’ll take that as my signal to keep things as they are. But I think Alden was right. My heart knows what it wants, and fuck does it want BraveBoy to flirt back, to give me a sign he’s open to exploring what might be between us.

  BraveBoy: Yes. Solo workouts really aren’t the same. They’re never as satisfying.

  LonelyDaddy: They can be if done properly…

  BraveBoy: Hmm, maybe I need a personal trainer then;)

  A litany of ideas fills my mind, ways I could play with him from afar until he’s ready to take the next step and meet in person.

  We chat awhile longer, exchanging innuendos and playful words until I let him go so I can get some work done, with a promise that we’ll chat again tonight. A satisfied purr rumbles through my chest, knowing he’ll be all mine again for the third night in a row. He said he got plenty of sleep last night, so I won’t feel too bad about keeping him up late again.

  I find myself smiling through the rest of the afternoon, counting the hours until my next chat with BraveBoy.

  Chapter 7

  Emerson

  I’m dragging ass again today.

  It’s been two weeks since I started chatting with LonelyDaddy on the M4M app, and it’s become a nightly routine I spend all day looking forward to. As diligent as he is about getting off the chat with me early enough for me to get a good night’s sleep, the more I’ve chatted with him, the more inspired I’ve been to write each night. In the past two weeks, I’ve written half a dozen short stories. My fingers are actually starting to ache from how much I’ve been writing.

  Kiernan hasn’t stopped into the bookstore since the day he caught me singing and asked me about tattoos, which is weirdly both a relief and a major bummer.

  The bell over the door jingles, and I look up to greet the newest customer with a friendly smile and wave and then return to dusting the nearest bookshelf. My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I dive to check it, a huge smile breaking out over my face when I see a new message from LonelyDaddy.

  LonelyDaddy: Hey there, sweet boy. How are you doing today?

  BraveBoy: Kind of boring, but otherwise, I can’t complain.

  LonelyDaddy: There are worse things in life than boredom.

  LonelyDaddy: I wanted to run an idea by you…

  BraveBoy: Okay.

  A zip of nervous energy rushes through me, wondering what he might be about to ask. Before I can find out, one of the browsing customers makes their way to the register. I put down my dust rag and hurry to check them out.

  While I’m ringing them up, my phone vibrates several times in my pocket, making my pulse skyrocket, my fingers itching to get a hold of my phone and find out what it is LonelyDaddy wants to “run by me.”

  “C-come again,” I say.

  Of course, because I’m dying to know what LD wants, all three of the other customers currently in the store all line up to check out at once. I do my best to keep a smile on my face, making brief small talk with one man who wants to tell me all about his favorite new book series. Normally, I’m all about book chat, but not when my phone is burning a hole in my pocket.

  I whip out my phone the second the final customer steps away from the register.

  LonelyDaddy: Let me buy you dinner tonight.

  My hand starts to tremble, and I tighten my grip on my phone to keep from dropping it. When I didn’t answer right away, he sent several follow-up texts.

  LonelyDaddy: If you aren’t ready to meet, I understand. I don’t want to rush you.

  LonelyDaddy: I have an alternative proposal if that’s the case… I’ll have a meal sent over to you, and we can have a virtual date, either over video or chat like we always do.

  I grin at the messages, my anxiety melting away. Things have gotten flirty and a little romantic on our chats, but he’s never pushed it, always letting me set the pace. And until now, I wasn’t sure if we were just flirting as friends or if he could actually be interested in me.

  BraveBoy: So…just to clarify, this would be like a date?

  I nibble on my bottom lip while I wait for his reply. I know I’m not ready to meet him, and a video chat is out because he’d still have to suffer through my unbearable stuttering. My tongue is getting tired just imagining it. But the idea of sharing a meal, even if all we do is text during it, seems…sweet. Romantic.

  LonelyDaddy: It would be exactly like a date.

  A giddy feeling fills my chest, and I bounce happily on my toes for a second, doing a little dance. I’m glad Sterling isn’t here to see me act this goofy over a man whose name I don’t even know. I’ve wanted to ask him his name a hundred times over the past couple of weeks, but if I ask, then I’ll have to tell him mine, and I’m just not ready.

  That thought deflates some of my enthusiasm, and I finally get myself together enough to type a reply.

  BraveBoy: I really want to say yes to a virtual date.

  LonelyDaddy: What’s stopping you?

  BraveBoy: If I’m not ready to tell you my name or send you pictures of my face, am I ready for a date? Even if it is only virtual?

  LonelyDaddy: I see your conundrum… What if I tell you I’m not ready to change what we have yet either? Let’s take meeting off the table for now. We’re just talking about taking the getting to know each other that we’ve been doing a little deeper.

  BraveBoy: Okay…I like that. But I still feel weird agreeing to a date when I still refer to you as “LonelyDaddy” in my head…

  LonelyDaddy: What if I tell you a name, but it won’t be mine. And you can do the same.

  BraveBoy: Like aliases?

  I giggle at the suggestion, all of my insides warming at how sweet he’s being.

  LonelyDaddy: Like aliases.

  BraveBoy: Okay, I’ll be Tom.

  LonelyDaddy: Nice to meet you, Tom. I’m Dick.

  I burst out laughing, covering my mouth to muffle the sound and giving the man who just walked in an apologetic look.

  BraveBoy: You can’t be Dick.

  LonelyDaddy: But my middle name is Richard…

  BraveBoy: Pick a different name, Daddy.

  LonelyDaddy: Mm, I’m fine if we just go with Daddy for now.

  Another little thrill rushes through me.

  BraveBoy: That works…Daddy.

  LonelyDaddy: You’re killing me, sweetheart. Do I get to hear your voice tonight?

  BraveBoy: Not tonight. I hope that’s okay. But I will give you my phone number. If we’re going to have a proper date, you should have a way to contact me that isn’t a hookup app.

  LonelyDaddy: And your address so I can have food sent?

  I chew on my lip again, considering the request. On the face of it, giving my address to a man I haven’t met in person doesn’t seem like the best idea. But LonelyDaddy…Daddy hasn’t given me any reason not to trust him yet. He’s been kind and respectful of my boundaries. He’s been a perfect gentleman in every way.

  I may not be brave enough to meet him just yet, but I think I have enough courage for this small leap of faith.

  I send a message back with both my phone number and my address.

  LonelyDaddy: I look forward to our date tonight. Expect food and a text at 7 pm.

  BraveBoy: I can’t wait.

  Kiernan

  Even if we won’t be meeting in person tonight or even via video chat, I still take the time to dress for a date. It seems the right thing to do. I arranged delivery to both our addresses from my favorite little Italian bistro and paid a handsome tip to ensure
the food arrives on time and still warm.

  I arranged for another delivery to my boy’s place tonight as well, but now I’m questioning the wisdom of it. It’s likely a bit much for a first date gift. But the idea has itched at my brain for the past two weeks, and I couldn’t resist.

  I pace in my dining room, anxiously waiting for food to arrive, but more so waiting for a text from my boy with a reaction to his gift. My boy… It has such a nice ring to it, but I’m still not sure it’s true. Not quite yet anyway. We’re on a path, and tonight’s date, even virtual, is a step in the right direction.

  My phone vibrates at the same time my doorbell rings. I hustle to answer the door while pulling out my phone at the same time. The text I have waiting for me from BraveBoy has a light sweat breaking out over my skin. I know he wanted to use fake names, but I saved his number under BraveBoy anyway. I don’t want to settle for another name that isn’t his. I’ll wait as long as I have to for the real thing.

  BraveBoy: I got the gift you sent…

  I thank the delivery man, snatching the bag of food and using one thumb to type a response.