Page 6 of Daddy Marc's Gem

“That’s enough. Let me pay you, I’ll put her away then when you’re ready, we can begin to pack up. I promise I’ll be careful, but if you need to give me any instructions on how you want things done, let me know.”

Foster’s jaw fell open. The way Marc took charge, telling him how things were going to be, wasn’t insulting in the least. To his surprise, he found it to be kind of hot.

“I-I can’t ask you to do that.”

Marc arched his eyebrows, his mouth quirked in a smile. “You didn’t. I offered.” Marc paused, running a hand across the top of his head. “All right. Let’s adjust the plan. How about I help you now, and you cover the pizza for tonight? Then we can go out to a nice restaurant, my treat, another time. Does that work?”

Foster grinned. Boy, did it ever.

Chapter Three

Marc entered Colonial Tea & Coffee, a trendy place he’d visited many times over the years. Even though Foster was new to the area, he’d shared that this was his favorite place to get coffee as well. Had they ever crossed paths? Would they have had a reason to strike up a conversation? Or would he have forever gone without meeting the man he hadn’t been able to get out of his head all week.

He should send Dolly some gourmet treats for bringing them together.

Marc quickly surveyed the open room, his heart pounding in anticipation, and determined that Foster hadn’t arrived yet. That was fine. He’d shown up a bit earlier so he could get his bearings, and to make sure Foster didn’t become anxious waiting for him.

As Marc grabbed a small table in the back, he internally lectured himself to not make assumptions. They might have a lot in common, had enjoyed each other’s company while sharing a pizza, the spark of attraction sizzling in the air between them. However, this coffee shop date was a casual get-together, nothing more. As it was, he shouldn’t be thinking of it as a date at all.

Although, once he took Foster to the upscale restaurant where he’d made reservations, it would be difficult not to assume it was more than a couple of new friends hanging out. He still had two important concerns that could block their path to romance. Whether or not Foster was emotionally available after his bad breakup was one, but the real relationship killercould be Marc’s lifestyle. That was a rather large detail he hadn’t shared—not when all they’d done was share a pizza. But if Foster expressed an interest in something beyond friendship, that would be an enormous elephant to wrestle to the ground.

The chime above the door announced Foster's arrival. Marc’s breath caught as the younger man scanned the room, a shy smile blooming when their eyes met. Foster wore a light blue pinstripe that brought out his eyes, his honey-blond hair slightly tousled from the summer breeze.

“Hey,” Foster said, sliding into the chair across from Marc. “Sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“You're right on time.” Marc smiled back, noticing how Foster fidgeted with the cuffs of his shirt. “I arrived early to save us a spot.”

They fell into comfortable conversation as they ordered—Marc his usual dark roast, Foster a cinnamon latte with an extra shot. Marc found himself cataloging each small detail: the way Foster ducked his head when he laughed, how he listened with complete attention, repeatedly brushing his hair back from his forehead.

Marc took a sip of his hot brew then set down his mug. “How’s your girl Dolly doing?”

“She got that bath after you left.” Foster rolled his eyes. “Combing out her fur took longer than cleaning her up.”

Marc smiled. “I bet.”

He took another sip of his cooling coffee before setting it down. A subtle shift in their interaction crept in, and Marc blamed himself. Perhaps not blurting out that he was a Daddy over pizza after just meeting had been wise. But continuing to feel uncomfortable that Foster didn’t know made him want to hold back everything. Even if they only remained friends, that wasn’t the way to conduct a relationship.

“Hey, so I was thinking,” Marc began. “I made reservations atLa Belle Viefor this Friday like I said I would. But I was wondering if you’d like to get together before then.” Marc tapped his fingers against the side of his cup. “I’m not sure what your schedule is like, but there’s a new exhibit of impressionist watercolors at the Gardner Museum this week. I wasn’t sure if you’d had the chance to visit there yet.”

Foster's eyes lit up and he straightened in his chair. “Really? No, I haven't been to the Gardner yet. My grandparents used to talk about it all the time—they always wanted to visit.” His enthusiasm dimmed slightly as he added, “But I don’t want to impose on your time.”

“You wouldn't be. I'd enjoy the company.” He leaned in as if sharing a deadly secret with Foster. “I must confess that I haven’t been very social lately, either. On occasion, I meet up with my close friend, Zane. But no boyfriends, and other than going to the club, I —” His throat closed, and he coughed into his fist. “What I mean is that I don’t get out much like I used to.”

Foster regarded him with wide eyes. Marc wasn’t quite sure how to interpret his expression.

“No boyfriends?”

Ah, now I understand. Foster still hadn’t worked out whether he was available, or was maybe still questioning Marc’s sexuality.

“No boyfriends. It’s been a while.” He cleared his throat, squirming in his chair. The past relationships conversation would definitely out him as a kinkster. “But it looks as though the weather will hold this week. After visiting the museum, we could take a walk in Evans Way Park. That will give us plenty of time to chat. I’ll tell you all about my past heartbreaks.” He winked. “It’s a better topic in the light of day as opposed to a nice dinner at a beautiful restaurant.”

Foster wrapped his hands around his mug, his blue eyes meeting Marc’s briefly before darting away. “Sure, that sounds great. I’d love to.”

They settled on Wednesday afternoon and spent another thirty minutes chatting about their favorite artists.

A notification lit up Marc’s phone. “Excuse me, this could be about work.”

Marc glanced at the text from his phone, which was indeed from his office. He apologized to Foster, “I’m sorry, my assistant needs me to approve some paperwork. I’m afraid I’ll have to run.”

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