Page 11 of Their Little House Boston (Five Little Roommates #3)

Elliot

“Do you like to paint?” I asked Boston. “I like to paint the pictures by numbers. Those are my favorite.” The numbers took the thinking out of it. Once, I tried coloring books as a way to have some fun by myself, but I ended up criticizing my choices of colors and tones. Wasn’t so fun in the end.

“Um, yes. I like that too but there are too many people there. I think…I don’t know if I want to stay.” Boston tugged at his T-shirt and fiddled with the yellow laces on his shoes.

At first, he’d been fine. We read books and played with a light-up board where we could use pegs to make a picture, but that didn’t last long. Boston was squirmy and kept shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking on his feet.

There was nervous and then there was glassy-eyed, disassociation. Boston looked like he was experiencing the latter.

Maybe this was too much for him. We should’ve stuck to the playroom at the little house. Shoot! The last thing I wanted to do was make him uneasy.

I scrambled over solutions in my mind. I didn’t quite know how to help him. He looked so cute in his shirt and tiny shorts. There had to be a way to make him more comfortable.

Maybe there was an available daddy.

I scanned the room for someone. Daddies hung out along the edges of the room, waiting for someone to invite them to play.

I spotted one. He was with another little, but I knew for a fact that little had a daddy. In fact, his daddy was across the room, gathering supplies for whatever project they were working on.

The dark-haired daddy might be a third wheel. Maybe he would be interested in playing with us.

There were lots of activities set up tonight. Boston might be interested in one more than the one I’d picked. Maybe he was just going along to get to play with me.

One way to find out.

“See that daddy over there? The one with the dark hair?” I sat next to Boston, putting no distance between our bodies, hoping my nearness would help calm him.

Boston barely looked up but nodded. “He doesn’t look mean.”

“I bet he’s not. I haven’t met a mean daddy at Chained. I think they vet most people before they become members.”

“What about him?” He used his fingernails to pick at the cotton of his shorts.

“I thought he might like to play with us. I sometimes feel safer when there’s a daddy with us.”

Boston didn’t seem so sure. He wrapped his arm around mine and leaned his head on my shoulder. “Do you think he’s nice?”

“We can ask him.”

My new friend looked back toward the daddy in question and then back at me. “He does look nice. You go. Ask him. Please.”

That was what we were missing. I should’ve figured. We were missing a daddy. I got up and walked over to the man and waited until he looked at me. I was starstruck. He was handsome from afar, but up close—his attractiveness was breathtaking.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“It’s Elliot,” I answered.

“Elliot. Is there something I can do for you?”

I took a long, cleansing breath. “I was wondering if you wanted to play with me and my friend Boston.”

“Well, my name is Tripp.”

“Daddy Tripp, will you play with us?” I hated asking twice, but I wanted Boston to be comfortable and have some fun—more fun than we’d been having already.

“I would love to play with the two of you. Are you sure your friend wants to join?”

Over my shoulder, I saw Boston getting more antsy by the moment. “Yes.”

“Hmm. Okay, but if you or he gets uncomfortable, please let me know.”

I nodded. Daddy Tripp got up and ironed the thighs of his pants with his palm. The music grew louder right as the lighting changed. We couldn’t hear it all in the playroom, but the switch in bass beats told me they were ramping up the energy.

I tugged on Daddy Tripp’s shirt and leaned in. “There’s something I have to tell you first. Before we play.”

“What is it?” The daddy, tall and a bit muscular, leaned down. His cologne caught my nose, and I inhaled deeply, loving the rich, musky oak and sandalwood. Those scents called to me.

“My friend Boston, well, it’s his first time being a little here. In the playroom. We play at home but not here. He’s very nervous and shy. I thought a daddy might help calm the situation.”

“You’re a very good friend, Elliot. It’s nice of you to care for others. Are there activities he doesn’t want to do? How can I help?”

I shrugged. “I don’t think so. Just being there should be enough. We thought you looked like a caring daddy.”

“I strive to be. Let’s go over there, and you can introduce us. How does that sound?”

Nodding, I took his hand. “That sounds great.”

We walked over, and Boston stood up, dusting off his bottom from where he sat on the floor.

“Hello, Boston.”

“Boston, this is Daddy Tripp. Daddy Tripp, this is my friend Boston.”

“What great names the both of you have,” Tripp said.

“Thank you,” Boston muttered. “It’s like the city.”

“It is. I love that.”