Page 12 of Lost Little Boy
No. No. No. No.No!No fucking way!
“Number one, I’ve asked you to call me Wex a number of times. Number two, I’m looking forward to going to this Pride camp thing you told me about. Number three, you did nothing wrong. It wasn’t you—it was Jenkins, and I’m going to deal with that tomorrow morning.” If I didn’t kill the motherfucker first!
I glanced down to see Perry had on a pair of flip-flops, terry shorts, and a long-sleeved T-shirt. “Did you eat yet?” I gently put my finger under his chin to lift his face so I could look into those beautiful brown eyes.
My first instinct was to kiss him. Those pink lips were too fucking tempting. I settled on pulling him into my arms and holding him. “Perry, sweet boy, you’re going up to your apartment, changing your clothes, and you’regoing to let me take you for dinner. You had a shitty ending to your day, and I want to change that.”
I kissed the side of his neck behind his ear. He was freshly showered, and he smelled so damn good that I wanted to run my tongue over his whole body. His breath hitched as I moved back and placed my hands on both sides of his pretty face. He had a bit of stubble, which was fucking sexy, and the widow’s peak that dipped onto his forehead gave him a bad boy edge that I fucking loved!
Before I released him, I skimmed my lips just below the widow’s peak, leaving a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Go on, now. Get dressed. I’m starving.”
Perry grinned and opened the door before he spun around to face me. “I’d bring you upstairs, but my roommates aren’t very nice.”
I chuckled. “I’m fine waiting right here.”
He closed the door, and I retrieved my phone from the inside of my jacket pocket. It was eight o’clock, so the dinner hour would be in full swing at most places nearby, but there was an intimate little French place in the Chartreuse Hotel near the Potomac River. My father’s name went a long way there, so I was sure I could get us a table.
I called and made a reservation to sit outside. It was a beautiful evening in the high seventies in NorthernVirginia, so sitting by the river would be perfect. I ordered the chocolate souffle for us to share, and I hung up the phone.
The kids at the playground were gone by the time I paid attention again. As I was about to walk over to look at the equipment to see how old it was, the front door opened and Perry stepped out. He was wearing a pair of black chinos and a denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He was wearing the black sneakers I’d seen him wear at work, and he looked damn perfect.
“You look great. You ready?” I placed my hand on the small of his back and escorted him to my car.
“Yes, sir.”
I opened the door, and he slid inside without an argument. I was pleasantly surprised. I figured he’d argue with me, based on how things went with the check I’d tried to give him.
“Do you like French food?” I asked after I got in behind the wheel of my Lexus LC. It was a birthday gift to myself since I had to stay in DC until Junior and Ramona returned. I was sure when Junior saw my corporate card balance, he’d lose his mind, but it was the cost of doing business, something he said all the time. My father didn’t need to know I was hanging around for a much better reason than to make him happy.
“I’ve never had anything French—well, except fries. I don’t know what else might be French.” He turned to look out the window as we drove along the George Washington Parkway to Old Town Alexandria.
“Well, they have a lot of seafood like clams, oysters, muscles, shrimp, and snails. They have steaks and rich sauces. Your French fries and foie gras, which is goose liver. What do you like? Or rather, whatdon’tyou like?”
He gulped, which was too damn cute. “Do you eat goose liver and snails?”
It was dark, and I wanted to see the look on his face, but I was coming up to King Street, which was a high traffic area with little to no parking curbside, so I chose to valet the car at the hotel.
“I don’t eat any of that shit. I’m a steak guy, and they have some great green beans that they call haricots verts. They sauté them in a sauce that’s delicious.”
Perry sighed. “I’ve never had French food. We only had two restaurants in Erasmus, Tennessee where I grew up—Chapman’s Diner and the Dairy Barn. They didn’t serve any of those things you mentioned, and the only fish they had was a catfish special on Fridays. I can’t afford a fancy meal, but I’ll sit with you while you eat.”
I turned right into the valet lane of the Chartreuse Hotel and stopped in front. I turned off the car and turned to Perry. “Stay in. I’ll come around.”
I hopped out and walked around the front of the car, handing the valet the keys and a tip before I went to the passenger door and opened it, offering my hand to help him out. He stared at it, so I dropped it. “I was only offering a hand to help you out.”
Perry stood and stared at me. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been taking care of me and my four brothers and sisters since my father died when I was twelve. I don’t need anyone’s help.”
There was that stubborn kid I thought was in there. He wasn’t bratty as I’d thought. He had been mistreated and deeply hurt from a young age. He’d been burdened with a load no kid should ever have to carry.
I wanted to ask questions, but now wasn’t the time. I needed to gain his trust… Iwantedto gain his trust. I suspected he hadn’t trusted anyone in a long time.
“Okay, well, let’s have a nice dinner. My treat. I don’t like eating alone.” I extended my hand toward the front door, and we walked up the stairs and into the hotel. Perry stopped in the lobby, likely unsure where to go. “To theleft. The restaurant is at the end of that hall.”
He took in my suit and then turned his gaze to the mirror in front of us. “I’m not dressed nearly nice enough for this place.”
I noticed an accent that surprised me, though after he’d said he was from Tennessee, it shouldn’t have. That was one piece of the puzzle, but I was sure there were more. Was I patient enough to put them together? That was the question.
But the bigger question—why did I care?
