Page 21 of Their Little Helper (The Lactin Brotherhood #22)

HARLEY

Just frown and stare him down.

Air in.

Air out.

Deepen your frown.

You can do it.

They always break.

“Fine. I wasn’t sick, but?—”

“But your favorite band was in town.” Interrupting was rude but I’d heard the same story once a month from him, so I didn’t feel too bad about it. “And you just had to go.”

Larry beamed at me, forgetting he’d been pretending to be stoic and full of bullshit just seconds before. “I knew you’d get it, man. You’re mean but fair. I knew you’d?—”

“Fire your ass.” Santos wouldn’t put up with anyone being sick on a weekly basis or coming down with the flu three times in one month, so I didn’t have to either. “I’m done.”

Short sentences.

Badass men don’t explain themselves.

I wasn’t a nice Dom or a Daddy.

I was an asshole Dom from a romance novel that no one should actually date in real life.

“Fuck.” Deflating, Larry pouted.

He was nowhere near a Dom from a romance novel.

“My mom is going to kill me.”

He wasn’t even the villain in a romance novel but he knew how to piss off everyone around him.

Including me because I was going to have to cover his shift.

“Fuck.”

Yep. Larry was right about that.

What he was wrong about was how long I’d put up with his flaky behavior and terrible lies.

Even with all the extra paperwork firing him generated, I didn’t feel bad about it because he was the worst liar I’d ever seen. Even Daddy would’ve made up more believable stories and Papa said his imagination was questionable.

Part of me wondered if I’d made the right call halfway into my extra-long shift when I was bouncing between doing Larry’s job at the bar and fitting in the paperwork I was supposed to have been doing.

It made what should’ve been an easy shift on a quiet night last until late and I was running on empty after tossing out a regular who’d gotten too mouthy with damned near everyone.

“ Fucker !”

No. Not in any sense of the word…not yet anyway.

Unfortunately for my embarrassment levels, I remembered everything little me had asked Daddy and Papa about bottoming and it seemed like I’d get to figure that part of sex out as soon as I managed to ask for it.

Which might be never or just until the next time little me got overconfident.

He was entirely too curious for my own sanity sometimes, but they’d done a good job of answering my questions without making me feel silly.

Well, I’d felt silly once I’d started thinking about it, but that was on me, not them.

They’d been great and had treated it as normally as they could’ve. But looking back, I was pretty sure Santos had been worried about how to answer my questions. Little me hadn’t noticed but big me realized he hadn’t been as relaxed as he’d tried to pretend.

I could recognize how cute it was when I wasn’t embarrassed about the whole thing.

He’d even gotten me and Daddy pajamas with matching blankets.

I wasn’t sure how much money he’d spent getting them so fast but I remembered Daddy saying he wasn’t going to worry about Papa spending money on silly things. He couldn’t seem to decide if he was frustrated that he hadn’t gotten a sippy cup or not, though.

Papa just rolled his eyes and said to be careful what he complained about.

Little me hadn’t understood the threat and big me was still slightly confused, but it’d made Daddy stop complaining.

“Last call.” Barking out the words in a low tone and giving the bar a smack got sighs and pouts from the last stragglers who were thankfully behaving themselves, but it had little me rolling around in my head asking if we were done yet.

Nope.

But we got there after a while and I was eternally grateful for the fact that we closed early on Sundays. It was normally an easy shift with couples going on one last date for the weekend or singles psyching themselves up for the week, but it’d been wall-to-wall people for hours.

Most of the time I actually liked seeing the assortment of patrons we got because it was a true mix of genders and sexuality and personalities, but it’d been so busy I hadn’t been able to check my phone in hours and I’d missed dinner and I was tired of frowning.

It was really hard being a boring grown-up but I’d tried to be regular me when I’d first started working at bars and that hadn’t been a good decision at all. It made everyone nervous and they worried and it hadn’t been a good fit for a bar.

But badass me was great for the bar, it’d just taken me a while to find the right book characters to model my bar-self after.

I could almost let bar-self go, though, because it was finally empty and I was ready to escape, so I felt safe smiling when I checked my phone and saw Daddy’s texts.

Some people shouldn’t get married.

She’s nuts. She’s beyond the hot-to-crazy scale and he’s stupid.

Oh. I think he’s sleeping with the best man.

Oops. Yep he’s sleeping with the best man.

Good grief. She’s sleeping with him too.

She should know not to have sex once she’s gotten her makeup and hair done. She’s crazy and stupid.

After a while, the tone of his texts shifted and I had to fight back laughter.

You know…when we get married we should have one of us pretend to be the best man and interrupt the ceremony to demand that we both marry him since we’re in love. I think I’d do good at that role. What do you think about marrying Santos so I can object at your wedding?

My first thought was that his mother would be very angry with us for a stunt like that. From everything he’d said about her, she had lots of patience, but I was pretty sure that would push hers too far.

I wasn’t sure if it was too late to answer him, but I decided to anyway.

I’m pretty sure your mother would kill us if we did that.

His reply only took seconds.

Ugh. Great plans ruined by people with no sense of humor.

As I debated warning Papa about Daddy’s idea, he switched topics.

How was work? Did you have to frown too much? Any problems after firing that idiot? Did you forget to have dinner? You said you were going to call when you could fit in a break. I’m not good at being forgotten. I’m going to need extra attention to make up for it.

I was a pretty fast texter and had managed to keep my nosy Daddy updated on work stuff for the first half of my shift, but it seemed like he didn’t appreciate the radio silence on the last half of it.

I started typing out an apology, but when I paused to decide if I had the mental reserves to figure out how to flirt and say something sexy, his next message popped up on my screen.

Never mind. One sec.

What did that mean?

He’d already driven Papa nuts by admitting to texting both of us while he’d been on the toilet, so what was he doing?

Okay five secs. Some people are idiots.

Who were the idiots?

Was Daddy still at his family’s house?

Wasn’t it too late for that?

Sunday night was evidently family dinner night and he was already on thin ice with his mother because he’d skipped most of it because the wedding had gone long with all the drama. Was his family the idiots in question?

Was he texting from the bathroom at his parents’ house?

Made it. You ready?

Ready for what?

I must’ve stood looking at the screen longer than I’d thought because a message from Santos popped up.

He hasn’t explained that we’re outside waiting for you, has he?

Oh.

No .

I was the one texting them one sec that time as my brain started working again and I mentally walked through the closing checklist as I headed to the door to lock up.

It took longer than I wanted because I went over it twice just in case.

I did my job really well but I didn’t usually close on my own and I was tired.

Big me was tired.

Little me was tired.

Work me was tired.

Work me was also frustrated that I had to hire someone again.

Technically the owner should be doing that but he called himself an old fart and liked going on vacation more than he liked working. So our deal was that I would do most of his job as long as I didn’t have to work full-time hours.

There they were.

As I stepped out onto the sidewalk, Daddy’s head popped out of the back window of what had to be some kind of ride share. “Santos was worried about you walking home alone and about how long you’d worked and his list kept getting longer, so I decided to make him happy by coming to get you.”

Papa had been worried?

Before I could process all of it, Papa pulled Daddy back into the car. “Don’t tell him that. You’re the insane one.”

I was pretty sure that described them both and I was glad everyone at work had already left, so I could smile and shake my head at them. It seemed like I had two worrier Doms that didn’t like me wandering around by myself at night.

Papa played it off better than Daddy had as he climbed out of the back driver side door. “You come sit back here, Harley. I’m going to sit up front and then we’ll head home. I think I underestimated the size of the car we’d need.”

To his house?

To my house?

Did it matter?

No.

“Okay.” I managed not to call him Papa in front of the driver but it got even harder when Papa kissed my cheek as he walked past me to the front of the car. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

Papa.

I kept that in my head, though.

He smiled like he knew it and even winked as he squeezed my arm. “Dally is obnoxious when he worries.”

Yep, Daddy was the only one who’d been worried.

He was so worried that he was grumbling about drama queens who repress their emotions when I finally slid into the back seat of the fancy car that Santos had clearly ordered. Daddy managed not to complain about Doms or boys or say anything BDSM related on the drive back, though.

He was too busy grilling me about work.

“You don’t seem to have enough staff if you had to do two jobs tonight.

Why didn’t you get dinner? You didn’t eat, did you?

I knew you wouldn’t have forgotten me.” He didn’t stop to give me time to answer anything, so I just tried to look apologetic as he kept going.

“Was firing that idiot stressful? Do you hire people? What’s your job description?

I thought you were just working at the bar to learn how to manage it not actually managing it. ”

Daddy kept shooting out rapid-fire questions and telling me random things so fast we actually made it back to Papa’s condo before I could answer any of them.

The driver still seemed to find the whole situation hilarious, which made me wonder what they’d been arguing about on the ride over to get me. There was no way they’d behaved themselves because after we’d gotten out, Papa mumbled something about owing the guy a big tip.

It seemed like they only knew how to behave when I was around, so it was probably a good idea even though the guy was barely holding back a smile as he told us to have a good evening.

We were obviously all together but I was just glad none of us had said anything too interesting.

I didn’t care if the guy knew we were gay or that we were dating.

It’d be stressful but it’d be his problem if he was a dick about that.

I couldn’t have handled the Daddy stuff or talking about my little side or Daddy talking about interesting things, though.

“Okay, back to the dinner questions.” Daddy looked stern as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You never answered that.”

Papa rolled his eyes. “Because you were shooting questions at him faster than he could answer them and he doesn’t want to upset you.”

Yes.

Both of those.

Daddy melted. “Let’s go inside so I can tell him how sweet that is.”

Well, at least he knew the sidewalk in front of Daddy’s place wasn’t the right spot for that conversation.

“He’s starving and needs food either way.” Papa wrapped his arms around us and herded us toward the front door. “There’s only so many nights in a row that anyone needs chicken nuggets, though.”

Oh.

I didn’t pout.

No. No pouting in public.

But I might’ve sighed as we went toward the elevator.

“I like nuggets.” Papa. But I didn’t say it. “They’re…they’re protein?”

And fun.

And yummy.

And they made my tummy happy.

And they made my little me happy.

“I…I like trees with nuggets.” Trees were good. Right? “Trees and dino nuggets are fun.”

Daddy snickered so that meant Papa was weakening. He even sighed as we went up and up. “I will concede to dino nuggets and trees being fun and a reasonably healthy dinner, but I think you’d like spaghetti too.”

Oh, noodles.

“I like noodles, Papa.” I was a good boy and said that soft as we got off the up and up. “I like them lots too.”

“I’m glad.” Papa kissed my cheek as he opened the door and let us into the big ’partment. “I saved you a big portion of it and it won’t take long for me to get it ready. Do you want water in your cup or juice?”

Papa asked hard questions.

“I’m still saying we should all have matching cups.” Daddy threw his arms up in the air and got naughty excited. “It’s only fair.”

Papa glared at Daddy. “And I’m still saying that you need to be careful what you wish for, drama queen.”

I was going to still say I needed sketty and a bath and Daddy cuddles ’cause it’d been a long long day.

Maybe Papa was frowny because he needed special Daddy cuddles too?

I’d share.

I was their good boy.

Just a…a tired good boy.