Page 3 of Just A Little Fling

“Then it won’t matter if you use it.” Daddy’s smirk made it difficult to pretend to be annoyed, and it wasn’t worth fighting about anyway. “It’s dry tonight. Want to walk?”

“Won’t you be cold?”

“Nah, it’s not that bad.”

“Isn’t that theexactsame thing I said?”

“Hush. It’s different for me. My Daddy powers protect me.” His laugh was deep and easy. Daddy buttoned the coat, then opened the door for me. Once we were on the porch, he reclaimed my hand. “Walking, yeah?”

“Let’s go, Daddio.” Oof. I quickly discovered the first problem with keeping up with his long strides. He walked. I jogged. Then I panted. It took every ounce of control I could muster to keep my whines to myself, but my short, pudgy legs were about to detach from my body. I was sweating. And not in a good way.

“Shit. Sorry. I forget that not everyone has long legs.” Daddy stopped abruptly. My legs and lungs were beyond grateful. “Next time, just chuck something at my head or trip me.” The next time comment was ignored.

“I keep waiting for my growth spurt, but I’m beginning to think it might not happen.”

Daddy let go of my hand to wrap his arm around my shoulder and draw me close. When I was tucked under his arm, he booped my nose and said, “I hope it doesn’t happen. Good things come in small packages.”

“Small packages? More like chubby ones,” I retorted with a self-deprecating laugh. “Lucky for me, I’m fab enough to make up for it.”

“There’s nothing to make up for. You are hot as hell, boy.” I preened under his praise and plastered a smile on my face. It wasn’t entirely true, but I wouldn’t call him a liar.

“C’mon, Daddy, we need to get a move on.”

* * *

“Here’s your water. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be back to take your order.” Our server, Margaret, plunked down two water glasses and hustled back to the kitchen. I’d been coming here since high school, but nothing about this place had changed. The food was always delicious and greasy and the booths had been covered in faded red leather since dinosaurs roamed the earth.

“I think hot chocolate is a must tonight.”

“With sprinkles?”

Daddy pretended to be deep in thought before he answered, “I didn’t know any other way was possible.”

“Glad you know what’s what.”

He grabbed the menus from behind the sugar dispenser and handed one to me. “Here you go, Sweet Boy. What sounds good?”

“Oh, I always get a patty melt: easy on the onions, extra sauce, and crinkle fries.”

“Good call. And hot chocolate.”

“And hot chocolate.”

When Margaret returned, she pulled out her pad and waited expectantly for us to order. Daddy nodded at me to go first.

“The hot chocolate with sprinkles and a salad with dressing on the side, please.” Daddy’s eyebrows knitted together while his mouth turned decidedly downward.

“Margaret, I’m sorry, but can you give us a few minutes? We’ll both take that hot chocolate with sprinkles though.”

“Sure thing, hon. I’ll go work on those and be back.” He stayed silent until Margaret was well out of earshot.

“What was that about?” he asked in a calm and reasonable tone. I hated it.

“What was what about?” On the other hand, I sounded defensive, but I wasn’t expecting to be called out. It was for his benefit. Daddy ought to take the win and call it good.

“You said, and I’m quoting here, that you always get the patty melt from here. Why not this time?”

“Well, Daddy, I hope to get lucky in the next little bit. Since you’re hosting, I need to keep things….uh…tidy.”

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