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Cohen was just shaking his head at this point. “I’m going to put my shoes on.”
Yep, that was what I’d thought too.
“Cutie? We’re going to come over and help you get sorted out.” Ian’s beaming smile had me reminding myself not to laugh again. “Will you be okay for a few more minutes?”
They couldn’t make it any worse, could they?
Just thinking that felt like tempting fate, so I looked down to make sure the sweatpants and T-shirt I’d put on looked halfway decent. Deciding I’d work, I focused back on the phone. “Will you relax and lie there carefully until we get there to help?”
Ian nodded earnestly. “Yes, Daddy. I’ll be very good. I can’t move.”
How was I supposed to respond to that kind of logic?
Okay, I’d be Cohen.
Doing my best to imitate Cohen and take Ian very seriously, I smiled patiently and projected calm confidence. It was only believable because he was drunk. “You’re a very good boy, but I want you to make sure Emerson doesn’t get too nervous and that everyone stays with you. Okay?”
Drunk in one room had to be safer than drunk and wandering, right?
“Yes, Daddy.” Ian smiled as I stood up and headed over to the door. “He can’t go anywhere. He’s naked.”
I shouldn’t ask.
I knew I shouldn’t ask.
“Why is he naked, cutie?” So I was stupid…but at least I was sober.
Ian seemed to be trying to shrug, and when that didn’t work, he looked around confused. “I’m stuck, Daddy.”
And he had the attention span of a rabbit.
“I know. Uncle Cohen and I are going to be there in just a few minutes.” Thank God he’d given me a key earlier.
Fuck.
His key.
Oh, my bag.
Making a quick detour to grab the keys, I met Cohen at the front door before Ian remembered what he’d been trying to say. “Oh, Daddy, did you know Emerson is naked?”
This was going to be so fucking cute once I knew they weren’t going to accidentally kill each other with BDSM gear.
“Do you know why he’s naked?” This time Ian seemed to be able to keep the question at the front of his mind.
“No.” The sweetly innocent answer had me nearly rolling on the floor laughing. Just holding it in was giving me the best ab workout ever. “I was hoping you did.”
Was I this innocent when I was drunk?
God, I was never going to find out because no more booze for me.
While I was having my crisis of booze, Lane decided to be helpful. His face popped in front of the camera again, smiling with what looked like relief. “He was showing us his work. I think we just forgot he needed to put his clothes back on. He’s very good at his job.”
What the fuck was his new job?
Cohen caught the last bit and rolled his eyes, mouthing that he’d explain later.
I’d obviously been left out of the good gossip and I didn’t appreciate it at all.
It was just rude.
“I’m glad he’s very good at his job.”
What else could I say to that?
Would it be kink-shaming or some kind of work-shaming if I told them he needed to put his clothes back on?
Okay, that was going to have to be something Cohen addressed. Naked subs were above my pay grade. Especially when they weren’t mine.
Lane nodded enthusiastically as Emerson called out from the floor. “It’s very fulfilling in some ways, but he won’t fuck me yet.”
Good grief.
I looked at Cohen as he led us out the door and dropped my voice to a whisper again as I stepped closer. “What the hell does he do? I thought he was a model.”
“It’s complicated.” Cohen shrugged before locking the door behind us. “Honest. I’ll explain it later.”
He’d better.
I was not going to be the only one who didn’t know what was going on.
“Oh, that’s right.” Ian’s cheerful response in the background had me rolling my eyes, but thankfully Lane was too distracted to notice.
“You have to stay still. Your Daddy said so.” Lane didn’t sound worried, just like a nag, but I was glad when Ian responded.
“It was just my hand, Daddy. Hands don’t count because it has circulation.” He seemed so earnest about it, I wasn’t sure I should call him out on it.
“Uncle Cohen gets to decide if hands count.” I hadn’t gotten nearly enough training to make that decision yet. “But if you’re a good boy, Uncle Cohen will make you pancakes tomorrow.”
That had Cohen snorting as we climbed in his car but he didn’t argue with me. For some reason, though, it made the drunk subs giggle so hard I was worried that poor Emerson might get strangled.
How the fuck they’d gotten so tied up I’d never know…and I wasn’t sure I was going to ask either.
“We’re coming right over, but remember, you need to stay still…even hands, Ian.” Using his name as he whined in the background seemed to help cut through the giggles because several heads were nodding as the phone spun around again.
