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I smiled at Tris’s question. His earnest gaze told me it was a genuine one. “Busy. Kink nights are super busy, as you can see, so they require a little more prep time.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I froze, my eyes shooting wide. Maybe Tristan hadn’t caught it, but for some reason, my brain leapt right to the dirtiest possible interpretation of my assertion.

But his eyes widened, too, and I knew his brain had gone to the same place. And hell if that didn’t make him even more attractive. A dirty mind was irresistible in a boy.

Clearing my throat, I changed the subject. “So what have you been up to?”

“Nothing much,” he started, twirling his stirrers in his orange drink. I’d requested Ryden not make it too strong, just like Tristan preferred. The bright color told me my new bartender had done just as I’d asked, and I breathed a little easier knowing he was behind the bar.

Then Tristan interrupted my thoughts. “I’ve been, well . . . it’s kind of a long story.”

My heart squeezed at the prospect of learning more about him. “I’ve got time.”

His sheepish smile was adorable. I wanted to press my lips against it and taste its sweetness. “I volunteer at an assisted living facility nearby, and I’m usually there twice a week. But they’ve got a huge Halloween party coming up, so I’ve been over there even more often to help with planning.” He smirked. “It also requires a lot of prep.”

I threw my head back and laughed. His sense of humor got me every time. “Nicely done.”

He grinned. “It’s fun. I get to chat with the residents, help them with activities, hang out with the staff . . . it’s great.”

Well, this was a layer to Tristan I wasn’t expecting. I loved it. “What drew you to volunteer there?”

He pursed his lips around his stirrers, sucking up the drink as he considered my question. I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “I just happened across it while I was out one day, and I went inside to see if they needed volunteers. I just don’t want anyone to feel like they’ve been forgotten, you know? And I figured I could help with that.” He shrugged like it was something anyone would do.

They would not.

“That’s really amazing, Tris. You don’t often see someone your age offering up their free time to help older adults.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “My age?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. It was time for Tristan to learn that I was the Daddy here—even if most people wouldn’t believe it if I told them. Especially given the way I’d acted like a fucking doormat with my ex-wife and still did with Carl. “You’re twenty-six, right? Most people your age are either still in their college phase, drinking and partying every weekend, or working so hard they don’t have time for much else.”

He held my gaze but nodded once. “Yeah, I’m twenty-six.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “Is that a problem for you?”

He hadn’t missed the meaning behind my asking him to get a drink earlier, and I wasn’t missing his meaning now. I caught his gaze and chanced pressing my leg against his in the booth. The warmth of his bare skin against my leather-clad thigh brought that shiver back. And if I wasn’t mistaken, he was quivering a little, too. “Not at all.”

When he didn’t respond, I asked, “Can I be honest?”

Tristan took a sip of his drink, finishing it off. Then he nodded. “Sure.”

I took a deep breath and jumped into the deep end of the pool. “I like you, Tris.”

“I like you, too, Henry.”

His quick response made me think he wasn’t getting the depth of what I was really saying. But I pushed forward. “Twenty-six is actually perfect for me. If you’re okay with me being nearly double your age.”

He bit his lip, and I could sense he wanted to ask how old I was but wasn’t sure if that was considered rude.

So I helped him out. “In case you were wondering, I’m forty-nine.”

His mouth dropped open just a little. “No way.”

I furrowed my brow, frowning. “I seem older?”

His hand flew to his chest. “God, no! Younger. Like late thirties, early forties at the most.”

I bumped his knee with mine. “You flatter me.”

“I’m serious!”