Page 18 of Just A Little Fling

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Nico waited outside the club. It made sense that he wasn’t dressed for the weather, but I wasn’t thrilled to see him shivering outside. He was dressed in cute little boy shorts and a brown leather harness. At this point, he was begging for pneumonia. He must have been freezing because the minute he spotted me behind the wheel, he moved to the curb to wait for me.

“T-t-thanks for picking me up,” Nico squeaked out between shivers. The heat was already up, but I turned on the seat warmers, quickly shrugged off my jacket, and tossed it over to him.

“Here. Put on my coat.”

“Babbo, I don’t…”

“Don’t argue with me. You’re freezing, and I’m not.”

Nico decided to save his disagreement for another time. Either that, or he was worried about frostbite. Whatever the reason, he put on the jacket without another argument. Nico leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. His sigh was bone-deep.

“Sweet Boy, what’s going on?”

“Have you ever gotten what you wanted and then decided maybe you hadn’t thought it all the way through?”

“Yes, that’s how I ended up doing family law.”

“Do you still enjoy it?”

“Occasionally. I like the adoptions and surrogacy contracts I get to do.”

“I thought family law would mostly be divorces and custody.”

“Yeah, that’s most of it, but I don’t think most people enjoy divorce.” My mind quickly conjured up the client currently eating most of my mind. “Usually, anyway.”

We both lapsed into silence for the short drive home. I had so many questions, but Nico’s body language made it clear that he wasn’t in the right frame of mind for an in-depth discussion about what happened earlier in the bungalow. Still, after the last few weeks, it felt like we had the beginnings of a friendship, and I wasn’t thrilled about letting him go back home and stew. I pulled into the driveway and killed the engine.

“Hey, Sweet Boy?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want me to walk you to the bungalow, or do you want to come inside with me?”

Nico peered at me through his hooded eyes. His closed-off expression gave no hints at what was running through his mind. He looked exhausted, sad, and a far cry from the excited boy dropping bombs earlier this evening in silly sleep pants. He remained silent.

“All right, with me it is.” Decision made for him, Nico let himself out of the car and walked next to me on the path. “I’ll loan you something to sleep in after your shower.” Nico accepted my instructions without argument. We both headed upstairs after we stopped in the kitchen to get him a water bottle for his bedside table. When we reached the top, he had a decision to make. “Do you want to sleep alone or in my room?”

“Yours.”

“All right, Sweet Boy, let’s get you a quick shower and sleep.”

Nico nodded and followed me through my bedroom and into the attached bathroom. Now that we’d known each other for six or seven weeks, whatever earlier shyness had existed between us had disappeared. Nico stripped like he’d been in my room a million times before. Given his outburst earlier, I wasn’t touching him until we cleared the air about that and the added complication of him renting from me. It was fucking hard not to look at luscious ass.

Once in the bathroom, with my eyes above shoulder height at all times, I gave him a towel and an extra toothbrush from the cupboard. He acknowledged it with a subtle nod and stepped over to the shower. “Hey, I’ll just toss the clothes on the counter, okay?

“All right, Babbo.”

His answer sounded world-weary, and I didn’t know where it came from. I hated it. Nico had kept our encounters so compartmentalized that I knew almost nothing about his troubles or concerns. I desperately wanted to know more but sensed that the quickest way to get Nico to clam up was to push him when he felt cornered. As promised, I cracked the bathroom door to toss the clothes. Nico’s muffledthankssounded more like what I’d come to expect from him.

I sat on the bed and waited for him to emerge from the bathroom. It wasn’t long before he came out in a cloud of steam, clad in my baggy law school T-shirt and flannel pants. His face was obscured by the towel he used to scrub his hair. The temptation to touch him overcame my good sense.

“Here, Sweet Boy, let me do that.”

I directed him to the edge of the bed and took over the task. Once he was situated, I gently massaged the water out of his hair. His sigh and relaxed shoulders were a welcome change from his surly tenseness early tonight.

“I’m sorry about the way I went off, Babbo.”

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