Page 39 of Island Daddy

CHAPTER NINETEEN

REID

Banana Boy sits as comfortably as he possibly can, among a heap of stacked crates. Save for the frigid chill causing him a sheath of goosebumps, he seems to be springing back to life with his usual fervor. I’m incredibly grateful that he’ll be okay. Seeing him unconscious on my bathroom floor upstairs isn’t something I care to witness again. Talk about giving Daddy a coronary, when he’s precisely in tip-top shape, himself.

My finger raises to shush him quietly, assuring the boy that I’ll be right back in to get him. I have no fucking clue who else has any business letting them into the hotel kitchen at precisely two in the morning. But they’re a damn fool if they think I won’t be laying into them for their intrusion. After all, not one other person in this building has their name on the side of it. Though it’s occurring to me in this moment that I’m shirtless. And my raging boner couldn’t be any more obvious.

A grunt escapes me, shouting with a hand at the side of my mouth. “Who’s there?” I call out, securing the walk-in.

The baritone reply shouts back before I have a chance to get a glimpse of him. “No, what doyouthink you’re doing in—” he pauses mid-sentence, catching sight of me from around the corner.

It’s only Leeroy, man. He won’t go spilling any tea.Now I can breathe a sigh of relief, realizing this interruption has been made possible by Kuhio Beach’s premier security guard.

“Ohh it’s just you,” I blurt, wiping my brow with an arm. “I thought someone was breaking into the kitchen who didn’t belong in here.”

Leeroy offers me a raised brow. “It’s almost—” he says, rustling his watch for the time. “Half-past two in the morning,” he adds. “Why aren’t you getting your beauty sleep?”

I waste no time replying, yet my brain can’t seem to catch up from being startled. “I got hungry, so I came down to make a sandwich.”

He scans the kitchen, paying close attention to the pops and sizzles of mine and Kragen’s steaks on the flat-top.You big fucking liar, Reid. Best follow up with something believable now.Leeroy points in the direction of my tossed shirt, before I have a chance to save face.

“And why is your shirt on the floor?” He asks suspiciously.

A quick, hard swallow precedes my best attempt to cure the embarrassment. “It’s fucking hot in here,” I reply, shrugging. “Who do I gotta fuck to get them to make sure the A/C is working properly?”

Leeroy chuckles. “Judging by those two steaks probably already past medium-rare,” he says, pointing to the grill. “I’d say you’ve got that covered,” he adds, pounding his chest with the peace sign. “Is it that boy from the pictures on TikTok this last weekend—your secret’s safe with me, brother.”

I grit my teeth, all the while gesturing a hand as my silent way of telling him to shut the ever loving fuck up.But thanks for reminding me about that shitstorm, Leeroy. I’ve been too busy to speak with Veronica about the Sploosh article.

“No, I have Ambien brain right now and must’ve pulled out an extra steak,” I reply.When in doubt, always play the Roseanne card and blame it on the sleeping pills.

Leeroy snickers. “Ooookay,” he says, nodding his head. “I’ll leave you to both your steaks there, Mr. Fairchild, aloha,” he finishes, turning around to leave at once.

Another sigh of relief falls as I wave him off. “Aloha,” I shout, heading to the grill to flip the sirloins.I might as well just feed the boy, since these are too goddamned charred for my liking.

Fuck! Kragen, you dipshit!The poor guy must be an ice cube by now. I can finally unclench my nervous ass cheeks on the trail back to the cooler. Not that any harm has been done tonight, besides a small bout of embarrassment. As soon as the cold air graces my forehead, I shuffle back inside to lift my Banana Boy from the stack of crates.

“Is the coast clear?” He asks, appearing more shamed than I likely do. “I couldn’t hear too well, what with all these insulated walls,” he adds. “But it sounded like that guy knew you had a boy in here.”

Just how much DID you hear, little boy? Shit fuck, God damn it. I hoped to never show him that equally humiliating photograph.

I contend with my dry throat, whisking Kragen back out to his spot on the kitchen counter. “Let’s get some food in that belly, and I have something to show you.”

He grimaces. “Oh my God, what is it?”

No time is wasted retrieving two plates and utensils, before removing our overdone and dry meat. I wasn’t kidding about not having any sort of veggies or anything. I’m hardly adept to operate this grill, let alone use anything larger than a steak knife. Kragen simpers yet again at the sight of our burnt snack.God damn it! I hate disappointing a boy in distress and pain—or any other time for that matter.

My eyes roll with remorse. “I’m sorry, kiddo,” I plead. “I fucked these up, but something in your belly is better than nothing at all,” I add, slicing him a bite of the least cooked strip.If that’s even possible.

“Open mister,” I command playfully, raising the fork to his beautiful lips.

He accepts the bite, chewing far more than he should ever have to.I’ll bet it’s like eating a hunk of leather.

Kragen’s fake grin proves my thought must be correct. “It’s notterrible,” he says. “It’ll do in a pinch,” he adds, smiling much more genuinely this time.

I lean close with a mischievous look. “I’ll show you a pinch,” I bite back, pinching his left love handle.

The boy giggles for moments, only showing how ticklish he is.I’ll keep this information for when I need to catch him at his weakest.After feeding him another few bites, Kragen reaches for my arm to force me into dropping the fork. His chin meets mine, akin to every fucking romcom in existence. Our lips part briefly, between periods of tiny clicks and slurps resounding around the kitchen.

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