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"So," I begin, tapping the worksheet in front of me. "Tell us your favorite shade of pink."
Jericho and my two brothers are sitting around the back patio table. We’re nursing pink teacups of passionfruit tea that we’re sipping withcornetti.
Originally, I wanted to serve the tea with scones, jam and clotted cream. A recent trip to Bath Spa in England turned me on to the wonders of cream tea.
However, Marcello reminded me that, as Italians, we’d better stick to what we do best. I put my foot down when he told me we had to drink espresso, though.
You don't drink espresso out of pink teacups—that’s why I insisted on passionfruit tea.
Santino crooks a brow. "That’s not how we’re starting this meeting off."
Marcello nods in agreement. "We don't know if Jericho even enjoys pink. Maybe he’s a baby blue type of boy. Or orange or green. Quit being so assumptive."
My jaw drops to my feet. "Jerichomustlike pink. Otherwise, this will never work."
Orange? Green? Are my brothers serious?
All my life, I’ve run into difficulty treating my boys like the princesses I desire them to be. It’s tough because sometimes, they don't want to wear the pretties or drink out of the pink teacups I adore. Even though I put my color preferences on my Daddy dating profile on FetApp, boys choose other colors—like yellow or purple—when push comes to shove.
How can you be a yellow princess? It’s possible, but pink is the best color.Other colors are dealbreakers.
Jericho’s left eye twitches. "I can’t say I’ve given the color pink that much thought before."
I can tell this isn’t easy for Jericho.Being examined like this.
My brothers and I are putting Jericho through his first trial run. Imperative to our poly relationship’s success is how well Jericho meshes with our interests.
I’m testing out his desire for pink things first. Marcello will ask him how he’ll react when he’s busy on missions. Lastly, Santino will give him a kink worksheet to see if we’re compatible lifestyle-wise.
That’s the most important element of this afternoon.
Santino places his hand on mine. "Cool your jets, dear brother. Don't scare him off."
I stare at Santino—and can’t help but acknowledge he’s right.
A groan escapes me. "I wish you wouldn’t question me in front of our new prospective boy."
Jericho lets out a snort. "I don't hate pink. My brother Bentley and I sometimes eat pink cupcakes when we play with toy soldiers on my grandparents' Christmas tree farm. Bentley's friend, Macon, makes the best ones—unicorns. I guess I like pastel pink. Not hot pink. Pastel speaks to my Little side more."
A bubble of warmth swells in my chest. Pastel—by far the best.
I tap my teacup. "Like this?"
Jericho nods. "This is an excellent shade."
Marcello turns to Jericho. "So, Jericho. Tell us how you feel about the… kettle."
"He already said he liked the cups," I snap. "He doesn’t need to comment on the kettle, too."
They’re the same damn color. If he enjoys the rich pastel pink of the porcelain cups, there’s no doubt he already adores the kettle.
"I love the kettle. Is that what youwantme to say?" Jericho scratches his neck. "I wouldn’t want to fail yourtest."
Marcello’s face relaxes. "Be yourself, boy."
Jericho pushes out a breath. "Okay. I like it."
Santino clears his throat. "Maybe I should handle this portion of today’s activities, Lazaro." His voice is sympathetic.
