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An expression that twisted my insides into an unexpectedly painful shape flashed across his face, there and gone too quickly for me to figure out what it had been.
“No,” he answered softly, looking away. “I think I still have a job there, but I’m going to need something else now, too.”
“Because?” I pressed.
He lifted one shoulder in a defeated-looking shrug as the barista called out that our order was ready. It was three to-go cups wedged into a cardboard carrier and—huh, I hadn’t realized how many varieties of breakfast sandwiches Starbucks carried—a bag with handles, full of steaming sandwiches that immediately captured every ounce of Dashiell’s attention.
And, selfish bastard that I am, I was immediately fucking jealous of a bag of sandwiches.
It was my only excuse for what popped out of my mouth next.
“You don’t need to look for work,” I told him. “I’m hiring you, effective immediately.”
His eyes jerked up to meet mine. “You are? For… for what?”
Dirty, dirty things popped into my head, but no. That would never be me. I owned or had a stake in several businesses with offices here in New York, and the boy clearly needed stability and a legitimate, safe place to go. There were any number of places I could start him in an entry level position.
“I need a house sitter.” It was ridiculous, and I didn’t. I didn’t even know where the words had come from. But now that they were out there, there was nowhere else I could picture this beautiful boy, and the idea of him sleeping in my bed while I was out of town made my cock pulse with heat despite my best intentions. “You’ll stay at my apartment and watch over things for me while I’m gone.”
Dashiell stared at me.
Then he kept staring at me.
Then, when someone jostled him from behind, he finally blinked. “You… you want me to stay at your place? Like, in your actual home?”
“I need you to,” I told him. Regardless of the competent staff that I kept on the payroll to maintain my apartment here, the statement felt absolutely true.
I shouldn’t need him, but I... did.
I cleared my throat. “And I’ll pay you, of course.” Something occurred to me. “Although, if you need to check with your parents first...”
Jesus Christ. That’s right. Reality check: I was infatuated with a teenager.
“No,” Dashiell said, his voice going hard as he straightened his spine and stared me in the eye. Not just a boy, then, no matter how young and pretty he was. “There’s no one for me to check with, Callum, so if you’re sure you want me—”
“I do.”
So damn much, no matter how much I tried to talk circles around it in my mind.
“Then yes, please,” he said, his eyes darting back to the bag of sandwiches for a split second before he turned his attention back to me, making a visible effort to ignore them. “I would love to house sit for you. Thank you for the opportunity.”
“Excellent,” I said, picking up the cup carrier with one hand and nodding toward the bag. “Then please grab those for us, sweetheart. My driver is waiting.”
His eyes went wide, although whether it was from the mention of Paul or the way I’d slipped with that damn endearment again, I wasn’t sure. But then he grabbed the bag without comment and followed me toward the exit.
And all that eager obedience of his? Even if it was partly fueled by hunger and desperation, as I was beginning to suspect, it did something to me. I had no trouble at all imagining how it would transfer to the bedroom… but I knew I couldn’t let myself act on any of those fantasies.
And I wouldn’t. That wasn’t what this was about.
At least, it shouldn’t be. He was still too young, and I’d just effectively hired him.
I mean it couldn’t be… now more than ever, if I was right about how rough his current circumstances were. I would never take advantage of someone in that kind of situation. Of course, I normally wouldn’t go out of my way to help, either, but I wasn’t going to think too hard about why everything felt different with Dashiell just yet. I would figure out what the hell was going on with the boy—and what the hell I was doing—when I got back to New York at the end of the week.
I held the door for him, nodding toward my town car when he paused and gave me a questioning look, looking to me for guidance and eager to follow my direction.
Fucking Christ, I loved that. Almost as much as I loved knowing that Dashiell would be here waiting for me—
In my home.
