Page 11 of Their Little House Tristan
“I saw you boys, too.” His smile was warm.
“I…I thought so.”
“Was that little show for me?”
I looked down and shook my head. “No.”
His finger came under my chin, lifting it until I looked at him again.
“So I just benefited from it too?”
I bit my lip, nodded once, and sucked in a breath before blurting out what I was thinking. “Maybe, next time, you could play with us.”
It came out almost as one word. I was working. I wasn’t supposed to be flirting, and I definitely wasn’t supposed to be asking daddies out while on duty.
I looked around quickly, glad to not be seeing any of my coworkers. It hadn’t been my intention to run into him—or to be speaking to him at all—but intentions didn’t matter if I was caught breaking the rules. If this was breaking a rule. I wasn’t sure if I was stepping on the line or had crossed over it.
“Do you mean play with you…or play with both of you?”
Wasn’t that the thousand-dollar question.
“I-I don’t know.”
“Are you boys together?”
“I don’t know?”
“Do you like each other?”
“I…don’t know?” Each time I answered, I sounded more unsure. I liked him, but telling this daddy that first really wasn’t going to be helpful or respectful to Bellamy.
“Well, how about this? Why don’t you get together with your little friend and figure it out? And when you do figure it out, catch me in the playroom.” He took out a card and placed it on the tray. “In case you want to get hold of me.”
“Are you…are you only interested if it’s just me?” Because I really wasn’t so sure I wanted to exclude Bellamy. In fact, I was sure I didn’t.
“Whatever gave you that impression?” He smiled. “I just want to know where and what’s going on before we play. I don’t want to get in the middle of anything…unless the middle is where you want me to be.”
Janice called me from the kitchen doorway.
“I gotta go.” I walked around him and hurried away, unsure if I was about to discover the best thing in the world…or about to get my heart stomped.
Either way, I was looking forward to it.
Chapter Eight
Bellamy
Mondays were the worst. Someone should ban them. Altogether. Start on Tuesdays.
The problems seemed to build up momentum during the weekend and then smack me in the face come Monday morning.
That added to the distraction in my life that was Tristan, and I was grumpy as a hornet. On my second coffee. And nothing was helping.
If only bills weren’t a thing. Monroe’s rent was reasonable, especially with the safety and security we got with living among people who understood us. It was the price of my education that needed paying, mostly.
Came with the territory.
I walked in after a long day, hoping Tristan was home. We had played together a few times and watched some movies together, but neither of us mentioned a word about the other night at Chained. Not the kiss. Not the palpable attraction. None of it.
