Page 1 of Just A Little Fling

CHAPTERONE

NICO

He was a Daddy.

I knew Owen and Barrett from my work with them on Barrett’s new lodge, but I didn’t know the lanky brown-haired man beside them. He was long and lean with an easy smile. His halo of hair was too shaggy for me, but I liked it on him. His slacks were serviceable, but the leather patch on his sweater had a retro vibe. And he knew something about Daddies if their conversation was anything to go by.

“Since I can’t find a date for Christmas, does this mean I get to be your third?” he asked Barrett. The response he got was somewhere between a growl and a snort. Owen’s twinkling laugh indicated they were close friends because Owen wasn’t one to laugh around strangers.

“Levi, you need to get your own Daddy.”

“Daddy? Nah, I need a boy.”

As much as I loved my job and had one of the most fantastic, if not the most amazing, bosses in the world, settling down wasn’t for me, unlike the couple getting engaged tonight. I was much more interested in a good time, and right next to me was a man who looked like he could provide it with sprinkles on top.

I got a better look when I sidled my way over to him. Besides being tall, which I was jealous of, his expressive gray eyes were serious and thoughtful. The gleam of mischief was clear. Anyone who would tease the mountain that was Barrett took their life into their own hands, and he was doing it with a laugh. It had to mean he was up for a bit of risk-taking, and I had just the thing for him.

“I don’t think the throuple situation is gonna work out for you,” I whispered when I positioned myself next to him at the dessert table. He glanced at me and then returned for a longer look. He was interested.

“You’re right. It’s not looking good. I’ll have to spend my evening alone.” His crooked smile hinted at dimples. He gave me a once-over, and the heat in his eyes was evident when they returned to mine. I squirmed under their intensity. My usual hookups were quick and casual, which was exactly how I liked them. This guy didn’t look like quick and casual was his thing, but here’s to hoping I was wrong. He had serious and long-term written all over him.

“That’d be terrible. Maybe you can find someone to occupy your time?”

“You know anyone who might be available to spend an evening with me? Owen and Barrett are wrapped up in themselves.” We glanced at the couple as if a shared invisible string pulled us. After pining for more than a decade, they were finally together. Happiness looked good on them. They were also two steps away from making out in the dining room. That wasn’t the typical MO for either of them, but it was the holidays. The lure of Christmas tree lights was infectious and festive, and mistletoe waseverywhere. This house was practically a mistletoe forest.

And what a gorgeous house it was. Being a personal assistant at an architectural firm, I could appreciate the elegant and ornate restored Victorian lines. Gabe had allowed me to manage the entire renovation project, so it felt like my baby. Since it was his and Rory’s house, it was a labor of love for my boss. His boyfriend—soon-to-be fiancé, assuming Rory said yes—technically owned it, but this was their shared treasure in all the ways that mattered. They’d agonized over every moved wall and replica window. The landscaping would be another bucket of angst, but that was a problem for spring me.

They were a perfect match, which, honestly, good for them. It wasn’t for me, but I appreciated the desire others had to settle down. There was comfort in knowing there was always a safe place to land at the end of the day. When you knew someone signed up to listen to you, hold you, ensure you got a decent dinner and a good night’s sleep, and got everything done on your never-ending to-do list. Someone who rooted for you and was always in your corner. There was a lot to be said about the idea that another person wanted nothing more than for you to be the best possible version of yourself while fully loving you in your current version.

I had zero desire to claim any of that for myself because all coupling-up comfort required commitment, and that’s where I drew a hard line. No tragic backstory, only an allergy. I’d never once looked at a man and said, “Damn, I wanna wake up to them every single morning for the rest of my life.”

“Are you offering to occupy my time?”

“I might be,” I answered, “But we gotta have some rules.”

“All right, let’s hear them.”

“For one, we can’t share our names.”

“No worries. I’ll come up with something to call you, Sweet Boy.

“If you’re a good Daddy, I’ll let you call me that.”

“You’re already causing trouble.”

“I haven’t even gotten started yet.”

After filling our plates, the sexy man and I went to a private corner of the living room. Without asking, he held my plate while I situated myself on the couch before he handed it to me and joined me there. When I realized I’d forgotten utensils, he produced them from somewhere with a quick smile and gave them to me.

“No worries, I got you.”

“Thanks.”

The likely Daddy encouraged me to take some bites of the food. He offered me a sausage roll from his plate with waggling eyebrows and a fake leer, which I am slightly ashamed to admit earned a giggle.

He was so concerned with caring for me that I was almost sure my assumption he was a Daddy was accurate. It needed to be confirmed, but that could wait until after our bellies were full. I figured I might as well get that question out of the way because we couldn’t keep playing if he wasn’t one. I knew my limits, and vanilla was one of them.

When we went back to choose our desserts, I decided to bite the bullet. “Just to be clear, you’re a Daddy, right?” His eyebrows shot up at my bold question, but it was easier than discovering that what I thought would work out was actually a waste of time. After eavesdropping, I was pretty sure of the answer.

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