Trust in Me - Quinn Ward Page 0,4

said, his gaze drifting over the men he assumed identified as Daddies. “Is that nothing is set in stone. Sometimes you’ll meet a boy who knows exactly what he wants, but that doesn’t invalidate his ability to change his mind.”

If there was a single man in the room who didn’t understand that fact, he had no right calling himself a Daddy. Still, when you had people who were new to the lifestyle, these were things that needed to be said—which was part of why The Lodge had earned a reputation as one of the best clubs in the region.

Sam squirmed next to me. I balled my hands into fists at my sides to keep from reaching out to him. When he didn’t think anyone was watching, he allowed his carefully polished veneer to fall away a bit. The longer I stood next to him, the harder it got to keep from touching him. I wanted to pull his thumb away from his mouth when he started biting the corner of his nail and massage his shoulders, which were still far too tense.

I needed to get a fucking grip. I’d have thought it was time to head across town and find some sweet, vanilla guy to fuck, but I’d spent the past six months doing that. What I needed went deeper than sex.

No one noticed me sneaking out of the playroom. There was only so much self-flagellation I could handle for one night. I had a minor what-the-fuck moment when I made my way to the bar and saw Doug busy slinging drinks.

“You lost?” I asked the next time he passed. I was used to seeing him at Club 83, the bar run by one of his partners. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him behind the bar, though.

“Just helping for the night,” he told me as he poured two pints. “Give me a minute to deliver these.” When he returned, he pulled a towel out of his back pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. “What’ll you have tonight?”

If I was seriously considering trying to find a boy—even if only for the night—I couldn’t drink. It wasn’t strictly forbidden in this part of the bar, but I didn’t mix alcohol with kink. Ever. I’d seen enough situations go south when one or more parties were just tipsy enough to misunderstand what they thought others were saying.

Who was I kidding? A night like tonight wasn’t going to get me what I wanted. There was only one boy in that playroom who caught my eye, and he was either oblivious or my flirting skills were rusty as hell. Besides, he struck me as the type who’d be reluctant to do anything with someone he met at work.

That was fine. I could be a patient man when the reward was worth the effort. And he would be. Sam might not have recognized me, but I sure as hell knew him. The first time I’d noticed him, he’d been toe-to-toe with a drunk who wanted to get into the back room. He’d been scared, but did a good job masking his fear. That was probably a skill he’d had to hone through his teenage years. He was smaller than average and looked like the type who’d be easy to pick on.

You had to look closely to see his strength. It showed in his steely gaze when he was pissed off and the carefully chosen words when he spoke.

“Hey, you want something or not?” Doug reached over the bar and gave my shoulder a playful shove.

Shit. There I went daydreaming about the boy I couldn’t have again. “Whatever’s good on tap.”

“Want to talk about it?” Doug asked when he slid my pint across the bar. I chuckled because it was strange to see him on the other side of the bar. We weren’t buddies, but more than once we’d chatted while he watched his partners work.

Maybe I should talk about it. And talking to Doug was safer than admitting I had a crush to my usual drinking buddy. Tom was a good guy, but if he knew I was thinking about putting myself out there again, he’d get pushy.

“How much do you know about Sam?”

“Not much,” Doug admitted. “Jack says he’s the best thing to happen to this place. And he’s put up with more of my brother’s shit than most people would.”

I cocked my head to the side while I tried figuring out the connection there.

“Jack’s my brother,” Doug offered. That made sense.