Page 11 of Lakeside Little (Pineberry Falls: Summer Daddies #2)

Nobody bought me gifts, I hadn’t been in a relationship for a long time, and when it came to birthdays and Christmas, my folks just direct deposited and told me to buy whatever I needed.

The last real time I was given gifts was by my grams, the whole reason I got into playing with dolls, and not action heroes either.

She bought me my first, it was a Barbie, and she came with all these accessories and outfits.

I was only allowed to play with her at my grams’ house because I think she thought my father would’ve been mad.

He wasn’t, he was never mad. I think more than anything, when my obsession came to light, it made me easier to buy for growing up.

On the car ride back to the cabin, I clung to Daddy’s gift. I hadn’t expected it. I’d gone with every expectation of grabbing something for myself. His insistence and suggestion of buying it was a surprise.

“You’re not even going to know or taste the goat cheese, I promise,” he said. He’d been talking a lot about the cheese on the drive back. “And I know you’ll have just a little taste because of how good you are, and it’s something I’d like you to do. You know, as a good boy.”

Sometimes, it felt like I was pressured into it because my code word was good boy , forcing me into things, and it was always for a good cause, like trying a new food, or creating good habits, like making the bed or washing my face, etc.

“And I’ll be making the pizza dough from scratch,” he said.

“You can do that?”

“It’s definitely something I want to try.”

I stared at him, seeing the excitement on his face. “Can I try as well?”

“I’d love it if you would,” he said. “I bought all the stuff for it already, figured I’d practice while I had the time, and there’s nothing you can’t learn how to do from an online article with instructions.”

I hummed, immediately trying to combat him on that. “What about heart surgery?”

He scoffed. “I’ve seen enough Grey’s Anatomy ; I could absolutely channel my Cristina Yang into doing some heart surgery. You know and say stuff like stat and push ten of epi , or whatever they say.”

“Oh my god, I love Grey’s !” I nearly screamed. “How come we haven’t spoken about this before?” I patted on his arm with excitement, trying not to distract him while we were in the car. “Ok, so who is your favorite?”

“Addison,” he said without pause. “Obviously, I’ve watched Private Practice too. And if you haven’t, you’re missing out.”

Rolling my eyes, he didn’t know who he was talking to. I was a superfan. “Of course, I have. I named one of the red head dolls Addison after her, unfortunately, she melted on one side because she was on the windowsill and—well, yeah, she did not recover. RIP.”

“RIP, I’m sorry that happened,” he said, which had my soul singing. It was a kind thing to say. He really cared.

Once we were back at the cabins, I took a nap.

It was essential I napped after walking around all afternoon and being attacked by all those animals, even if it wasn’t technically considered an attack, I did not like the way some of those goats looked at me.

Who even knew their eyes looked like that? Not me!

I woke to Daddy’s soft voice as he nudged me in bed. “You’ve been out for two hours,” he whispered. “I’ve made the dough and let it rest, so we’re ready to do the fun part.”

“Huh?” I grumbled, craning my neck out as he smelled divine. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him into my sleepy haven. “I have the fun part right here.”

He smothered my face in kisses. “The real fun is rolling the dough out. At least, that’s what looks the most fun online.”

A large yawn nearly had my jaw unhinge itself. “Yeah, sure. Give me one second.”

I didn’t get my one second. I was forced out of bed like I’d been served an eviction notice, but it was all for the best because I walked right out into the smell of tomato sauce on the hob. I felt like I was in an Italian restaurant. My belly grumbled. As always.

“You did all this while I was napping?” I asked, looking at all the ingredients being used and the stations he’d set up on the kitchen countertops.

“I wanted you involved,” he said. “And I was kind of excited to see if I could actually do this whole dough thing. So, fingers crossed it’s fine.”

My stomach grumbled again, this time even Daddy noticed. “What toppings do we have?”

“Sauce, of course, you can taste that now if you want,” he said.

“And then there’s the cheese, which you have to try, or maybe you don’t have to, but it’s good.

I do have a tin of pitted black olives, and we can always cook some fish to go on it.

” My entire face winced as if I’d just tasted something sour. “I think people do that.”

“People who deserve long prison sentences.”

“What do you usually have?”

“Pepperoni, sometimes honey,” I said, my mouth watering. “It’s actually so good. Near my apartment this pizza places sells hot honey and chicken pizza.” I wiped my mouth, fearing for saliva falling out of the corners.

“We do have honey,” he said. “We also have—” he paused, flicking his tongue between his teeth. “Pineapple. Now, don’t hate on this. It’s good.”

“Oh no,” I whispered.

“What?” he asked. “Are you allergic or something?”

“No,” I shook my head and raised the back of my arm to my forehead, as if I was about to swoon to the ground. “I’m just—” I sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t believe I’m falling for a guy who puts pineapple on pizza,” I said, snickering. “I’m gonna miss you when you’re locked up beside the fish on pizza people.”

Daddy pulled me into his arms and squeezed me, wiggling with me on the spot.

“I already told you about that sass. But I’ll accept that pineapple on pizza isn’t for everyone.

I’m also going to say that when I do go to jail for food crimes, that you come and visit me, ok?

” He gave my ass a squeeze as we continued to wiggle together.

“I pwomise.”

“Good boy.” He kissed my forehead. “Now, let’s go ahead and get some of this dough rolled out. I’ve already got a shape picked out for mine.”

The realization that I could make my pizza into any shape I wanted now. This freedom had to be used wisely. Although, I couldn’t think of any shapes now, except for the boring circles.

“What shape are you going to use?” I asked him.

“That’s a surprise.”

“Is it possible to make a—” I paused. “No. That’s not going to be possible. Too many hard lines.”

“What are you thinking?” he asked, pulling out the dough from a small drawer under the oven. It was all puffed up and huge.

“Too many things. I think I’ll go with a face, well, a teddy.”

“Oo, good idea.” He sprinkled flour on the counter, and I watched, half-transfixed by what he was doing.

“Is that what you were going to do?”

“Nope. You’ll see what I’m doing.”

I really wanted to push his buttons. I’d just woke up from a nap, it was in a little’s nature to button push when they were - eepy like me. Daddy chopped parts off from the dough, commenting on how he’d made way more than we needed.

It was surprisingly easy to roll out and shape into the teddy bear face, and while I was doing that.

I saw the shape Daddy was going for. It was a love heart, and it looked so much better than mine.

I kinda wanted to swap, but he was already steps ahead of me with all the toppings on his pizza, including the dreaded pineapple chunks.

“Ok, you’ve got a great shape,” he said.

“And what about the pizza?” I giggled.

I came up behind me and suddenly we were in the pottery scene from Ghost. Using my hands with his, he helped me stretch out the edges of the pizza to stop it from being too thick and cooking unevenly.

I would have though this man had years of experience in a pizza restaurant with the way he was guiding me.

“Now, the toppings,” he said with my hand on his, we pulled at the ladle inside the pant with sauce and gently spread it across my pizza bear face.

A shiver nearly ruined the entire thing as my hand jolted slightly. “Have you always been a construction worker or do you have some secret history?”

“I told you, I’m a quick study, and the internet has guides on everything. This is the easiest one I’ve ever followed,” he said, kissing the back of my neck. “Now, let’s sprinkle cheese, it’s good and crumbly. I promise you’ll like it.”

“Gouda? I thought you said it was goat,” I giggled.

“You’ll like it,” he said snickered.

“I think it has an unfair advantage because it’s on top of a pizza, and all cheese melted is good,” I said, although I couldn’t count for all the cheeses in the world, but definitely cheddar, that was the main one. Right?

With both the pizzas in the oven. We laid around on the ground in front of my doll house. I laid on his chest and he ran his fingers through my hair, drawing softly against my scalp.

“I’ve got this really fluffy rug at my house,” he said. “It’s still rolled up. I really enjoyed the feeling of tit between my fingers, and I bet it would feel incredible between my toes as well.”

“Why don’t you have it out?”

“Better question, why is my house still mostly in boxes?”

“Yeah,” I said, rolling around on the floor to get a better view of his face. “Why is your house still in boxes?” He’d asked the question himself, and now, he was being quiet. I could understand, sometimes unpacking felt permanent. “Are you moving?”

“I bought it. Mortgage is paid, so I could just sell it and move on.”

“Well, you promised me a room for my dolls,” I said, trying to make eye contact with him.

He shook his head. “I know, I’m just saying, I had a lot of time to think while you were napping. Nothing is keeping me in Philadelphia anymore. There’s family, sure, but I’m ready for a big change.”

“I’m a big change,” I whispered.

“You’re a huge change,” he said, locking his fingers with mine. “The reason I want to leave and—I don’t want the rest of my life to hinge on a decision I make in the moment.”

Sitting upright, I had to stare at him in his eyes.

“I’m not forcing you, and you don’t have to.

Being a Daddy doesn’t mean you’ve got to have this assertive decision-making skill.

It means taking care of me and taking care of you.

Spending all this time with you has been the best summer I’ve ever had.

I’m not gonna lie, I think I’d be depressed as heck if you left and we never spoke again. ”

“Me too.” He stroked my cheek. “You’re the reason I want to change things. I want to live in your bubble and breath your air and see the world the way you look at it.”

“Ok, but you’re not stealing my eyes for that.”

He laughed and yanked me in for a hug. “You’re so silly. I feel like I’ve wasted years being—” he squeezed. “Not out out, you know, and you remind me that it’s ok to be gay and to do this with you in the warmth and smell of pizza.”

“That’s it,” I said, pulling myself out of his arms. “I’m going to make you a friendship bracelet. And it’s going to be full of all the rainbow colors.”

“Just friends?” he asked.

“Well, I mean, it could have another name, maybe. I don’t know, what would you call it?”

It was right there on the tip of his tongue, and on mine too.

“I guess you are a boy and a friend, so—” I began, trying to edge the two together. After we’d already discussed our lives going forward, it sounded like something we would do together.

“Boyfriend,” he said.

“Are you asking me out?”

The timer on the oven beeped. “We best get that.” He was quick to his face, but I chased him down to the oven, desperate for an answer.

“Well?”

Equipping his hands with the oven mitts, he looked at me with a big smile. “Jack, will you be my boyfriend?” he asked.

I hummed and stared at him. “One condition.”

“Make it quick, or these pizzas are gonna burn,” he said.

“Cuddles, kisses, on demand, and you get me, and I suppose cuddles and kisses but not on demand,” I said, listing them out on my fingers as if I was even keeping track.

“And I get a boyfriend bracelet.”

“Deal!”

We sealed it with a kiss.

Now, did I bring my bracelet making kit with me?