Page 12 of Their Little House Boston (Five Little Roommates #3)

Tripp

They invited me to join them.

The two littles who had so intrigued me were playing together in the little room.

I spotted them the moment I entered, and although I did not approach them, I wished I could.

One of the most important elements of the daddy/little culture here at Chained was that the littles should always feel safe.

And that meant there was an unspoken rule that said a daddy could not initiate contact—the little had to do it.

It was anything but a perfect system because, of course, a little did not want to be rejected, so they were looking for signals that the daddy was interested.

On a good night, that could be entertaining.

I’d seen daddies make the funniest faces trying to catch a little’s attention without seeming pushy, and littles fall over in giggles at their antics.

And I had generally had good luck in finding play partners when I wanted one over the past several years.

If a little did not return my interest, no big deal.

I wasn’t looking for more than an evening’s play anyway.

But now? With these two who seemed perfectly content to play together without needing a daddy? I had the awful experience of watching no fewer than three daddies going through the gyrations of letting them know they were available and being ignored before the two looked over at me with interest.

And my heart rate kicked up.

Elliot, the little I’d seen the other night, informed me that this was his friend’s first outing as a little, and that he was not very sure of himself.

Understood. If Boston had a bad experience, it could make him reluctant to explore an important part of him.

Something no daddy would ever want to be responsible for.

“I see there are a lot of fun activities tonight,” I said, leaving the choices to them, as they should be. “Anything special you’d like to try?”

The two of them shared a glance then Elliot pointed, and if I hadn’t been so happy for the opportunity to spend time with them, my heart would have sunk to my toes.

“Ah, the glitter station.” To be fair, glitter was not available every night. Probably not every week, but I seemed to be good at hitting the nights it was. “Lead the way, boys!”

We had to wait a few minutes, since the table was popular, but as soon as two seats opened, I pulled them out and helped them to sit down.

A nice lady with a big smile, introduced herself to them as Miss Rebecca, and helped them to get started on the project, creating a sparkly picture frame for “a picture of your favorite stuffie or maybe a pet.”

“I don’t have a pet,” Elliot told her, shaking his head sadly.

Boston offered a shrug but no words. It was enough to understand he didn’t have one either. Little boys should have an animal to play with. Juno would love them. Sometimes I felt like I wasn’t enough fun for her but these two…

“Do you like dogs?”

Boston looked up from where he was gripping a bottle of glue in one hand, a five-by-seven frame in the other. His eyes held such longing, my breath stalled. “You have a dog?”

“I’ll show you.” I automatically reached for my phone in my pocket, only to remember that my phone and all its photos were safely locked up until I was ready to leave. “That is, yes, I do.”

“Is it a big one?” asked a third little from the same table. “My dog is giant, and I am going to put his picture in the frame when I get home.”

“Will it fit in the frame?” Elliot asked, a frown creasing his brow. “Maybe you should ask for a bigger one.”

“Miss Rebecca,” the little said, “I need a frame this big.” His arms stretched wide. “Or my fluffy dog-dog Bruce won’t fit.”

The staffer’s eyes twinkled. “Well, I don’t have one that big, but maybe your daddy will print out a photo the right size.”

“My daddy can do that,” he bragged. “He can do anything.”

“Here’s the biggest we have, just so he doesn’t have to work any harder than necessary,” Miss Rebecca said, handing him what was probably eight by ten. “Now, what color is your dog-dog? You’ll want to pick out the best glitter to make his fur shine.”

“I can’t get any glitter on him, though. I’m not even allowed to pet him after I do art until Daddy baths me.”

A very good policy in my mind. Getting glitter out of the fur of a gigantic fluffy dog…

not a job any daddy wanted. Sounded like this little shared a dog and a life with his daddy, and as he and Elliot and Boston completed their projects, he confirmed that.

It was a happy picture, and my imagination jumped to what it would be like to come home to dinner with these two.

They’d be throwing a ball for Juno while I grilled up some burgers or hot dogs, then it would be bath time.

My giant tub had been more of an asset than I realized when I bought the place.

They would both fit, along with lots of bath toys.

I shook myself free of the thought, surprised I’d done such future tripping. We’d just met, done one scene—which was very much still happening—and they might not be nearly as interested in seeing me again as I was them.

After glitter, we did paint and the night’s floor puzzle and wound up with a story.

I walked them to the group changing room, bemused by the unusual connection I could see between the littles.

Two boys who obviously were attracted to one another in friendship but more.

Maybe they just wanted a daddy for the evening. Boston was very new to the scene.

But no matter what, even if it didn’t come to anything, I wanted to get to know them better. So before I left, I gave them my business card. “My cell phone number is on there. I’d like to see you both again, maybe for dinner, if you are interested.”

“Thank you.” Elliot took the card and held onto it. Not a yes or a no. Most likely they needed to talk. As they disappeared into the room, they left a trail of glitter from their completed frames. I wondered what picture they’d put in them, since they had no pets. Probably a stuffie. But what kind?