Page 20 of Finding His Silver Fox Daddy

Ethan was early, as always, but I appreciated that he made a point to catch up with me before the rest of his group started trickling in. I smiled at him as he crossed the still-growing crowd, but I felt a twinge of sorrow at seeing him.

Aside from Jack, no one knew I was a Daddy. Given the type of guy Ethan was, he’d often invited me into his group and would no doubt welcome me with open arms, but I wasn’t quite ready to mix business with pleasure.

It just sucked keeping my whole self from my friends.

“Hey, man!” Ethan called over the din of conversations and music. I hadn’t cranked up the volume yet—that was usually done around nine o’clock when those looking for more of a club scene started to show. I secretly loved the production of setting the atmosphere around here; I was amazed at how the right lighting, décor, and music volume could totally change the vibe. “How’s it going?”

I grinned at his typical geniality, unable to maintain my sadness in the face of his tranquil effervescence. “Doing great.” I pulled a pint glass from my clean stock and started pouring his beer of choice from the tap. “How are things with you?”

“Good, great. Excited for tonight.”

I nodded, sliding his beer across the glossy bar and handing him a cocktail napkin to go along with it. “I am, too. It’s always entertaining to watch you guys from across the bar. You look like you’re having a great time.”

He smiled, but it seemed tinged with melancholy. “We do. You know, you’re welcome to shoot the shit with us any time you can get away from the bar.”

I nodded politely. This was his biweekly request, and he’d done it so long, I worried it had become habit and he didn’t really expect—or want, for that matter—me to say yes. I’d said no initially before I knew I was a Daddy, and by the time the realization had hit me between the eyes, I’d felt awkward agreeing. So I said what I always did. “Naw, you guys have too much fun for this old man.”

But this time, Ethan interrupted our usual song and dance by not laughing it off and instead locking his narrow gaze with mine. I shifted on my feet as he stared me down even though he was a few inches shorter than me. “First, you’re not old. Second, boys tend to like older Daddies. Third, you’re fun!” He snickered, making me laugh, the tension receding. “Anyway, the offer still stands. Always. Join us whenever you’d like.”

“Thanks, man, really.”

He slid onto a barstool before picking up his beer and taking a big gulp. After making small talk for a few minutes, the first club members started trickling in, so Ethan grabbed his drink, laid a twenty on the bar—which I took while shaking my head; I knew from experience it was pointless to argue that he’d overpaid—and headed to the large booth I reserved for them with a wave goodbye.

I smiled at him as he left, but as soon as he turned away, my lips fell. Tristan hadn’t shown up yet, and I couldn’t help but look forward to ogling him from behind the bar. It didn’t hurt that he usually sauntered over at least once to grab drinks and strike up a friendly conversation. But I wasn’t admitting that I wore my tightest dusty-blue T-shirt that stretched across my large pecs and muscled, tattooed arms tonight. I basically lived at this bar in the evenings, but the gym was a second home during the day. That made my actual home what, like, third?

But then, as if the sun was coming out from behind the clouds for the first time in weeks—or maybe, more aptly, as if a rainbow was appearing after a storm—Tristan walked through the door. My eyes tracked him as he stepped onto the raised part of the large space, a wooden floor that ran in a semi-circle at the entrance and held a bunch of standard-height tables, high tops, and booths. I hadn’t been sure at first about draping curtains from the pillars that, along with the railing, cordoned off the space, but after seeing early customers ooh and aah over them, I’d kept them. I’d even heard someone say it gave the bar a “level of opulence,” which I supposed was good. It helped manage noise as well.

Tristan headed for the handful of wide stairs across from the entrance that led to the dance floor straight ahead and the long bar off to his right, where I was trying not to drool at the sight of him. He was on the taller side for a twink—probably just under six feet, though I still had several inches on him—but his body was slender with lean muscles. He’d squeezed into the tightest pair of black jeans I’d ever seen and had on a white T-shirt with black stylized writing on the front that I couldn’t quite read despite it covering his entire chest in large letters. I’d seen him wearing a similar outfit in the winter with a stylish leather jacket, but this August heat was brutal, so he must’ve left it at home.

Something to look forward to.

He made a beeline for the bar, his face lighting up when he saw me. He was just being friendly, like he always was. That was all.

I couldn’t let my heart believe it was anything more.

Or my dick.

“Hey, Henry! How’s it going?” Tristan slid onto a barstool, charmingly bouncing into place.

He always had a way of pulling out my grin. “Hey, Tris. Going well. Still early in the week, so probably won’t have a lot going on tonight, but I’m sure you’ll be having fun.” I winked at him then turned away to grab a glass, filling it with crushed ice as I mentally kicked myself for flirting.

By the time I’d turned back around, Tristan was waving at Cameron, who’d just come in. Cameron made some indecipherable hand signal, and Tristan nodded before turning back to me. Indecipherable only to me, I guessed. “My usual mai tai and a rum and coke for my bestie.”

I chuckled as I gathered the ingredients. “Bestie? Really?”

Tristan straightened in his seat, wiggling a little, then adjusted an invisible tie, which made me snicker. “I can be twenty-six and still have a bestie.”

Age: twenty-six. Noted. So only—I did the math in my head as I shook the drink—twenty-three years between us. Shit. Tristan was too youthful and exuberant to want to hook up with an older, worn-out guy like me.

Stop it, Henry. You’re a hot silver fox. Substar even said so.

At the thought of my new online friend—or maybe friend was one assumption too far, because I still hadn’t heard from him in over twenty-four hours—another smile pulled at my lips. But he wasn’t here, and Tristan was. And the adorable, fun-loving, sexy-as-sin Tris deserved all my attention at the moment.

I garnished the hell out of his mai tai just like he liked it with a slice of pineapple, a cherry, and a lime wheel—and even an edible orchid I wouldn’t admit I kept ordering just to see his smile when I topped his drink with it—then slid it over to him. His face lit up at the sight, and my heart leapt in my chest. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to develop a serious crush on a guy nearly half my age.

Who was I kidding? I’d passed careful a long time ago. I was a goner at this point.

Tristan gasped, his hands clasped in front of his chest as he looked up at me, his eyes sparkling. “Oh, Henry, it’s beautiful! Thank you!”