4. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Arnav
Foster’s nervousness was so painfully obvious that my strongest instinct was to reach out and reassure him. To figure out what made him so uptight and do everything possible to alleviate that pain. I was very much a problem solver. And good at putting skittish people at ease. Foster, though, was beyond my easy talents.
He sipped his ginger ale.
I decided to speak first. “I’m surprised to see you here. Happy…but surprised.”
“You want to know why I ran.”
I blinked. “Well, I was more concerned about how you’re doing. Perhaps what you’ve been up to since we were last together.”
“And why I’m here tonight.”
After a moment, I tapped my glass lightly with my index finger. “Yes, to all of that. Or none of it. Whatever you’re comfortable—”
“Why are you here?” His eyes blazed dark in the club’s low lighting.
Bold choice.
I like it.
Unless his audacity was only because of nerves.
I cleared my throat. “Are you asking why I’m here on puppy night or why I’m an…alpha?”
He cocked his head.
“Dominant. Handler.” I swept my hand through my hair that was in definite need of a haircut. “Anything but Master . That works for Dante and Evan. I think it’s brilliant—for them. I…have other preferences.”
“Alpha?” He rolled the word around in his mouth—almost as if tasting it. Trying it on for size.
“What term would you prefer?”
“Honestly?” He scratched his nose. “I’ve never thought about it. Honestly.” He repeated the word as if desperately needing me to believe him.
“Well, when you’ve been in other relationships—”
He shook his head violently.
I wanted to ask—did that mean there hadn’t been any other relationships or that he wasn’t willing or able to discuss them with me? To buy myself some time, I took a sip of the ginger ale. I hadn’t enjoyed the drink for a long time, preferring water or a smoothie when on the run. I rarely indulged in booze. A few doozies of parties in my early university days and I decided the lack of control wasn’t something I enjoyed. Plus, Mama would’ve been unimpressed with me making an ass of myself. So I chose to swear off alcohol and had embraced a healthy lifestyle, hard studying, and career success.
“Apologies.” Foster dropped his gaze to the table. “You may ask anything you wish.”
I frowned. “Foster?” I said the word as an entreaty.
After a long moment, he met my gaze.
“You have the absolute right to never answer any of my questions. I ask them out of curiosity. Or to see how you’re doing. Checking in with you. But responding is never mandatory. You have a right to keep private whatever you choose to. Are we clear?”
He bit his lower lip.
The move made him so impossibly adorable, I wanted to wrap him in a big hug. To ease his clear anxiety. To soothe whatever made him so visibly vulnerable.
“I…” He swallowed. “I didn’t believe I had a choice.”
Didn’t believe…
So he’d been in a relationship and hadn’t been given his autonomy, or he was trying to sort out any potential relationship with me. I shoved down the desire to seek clarification. “Tell me, Foster, what can I do for you?”
He blinked. Several times.
Clearly my question confused him.
“I…” He scratched his cheek. “I’d like to be a pup.”
“Ah.” Okay, so that answers one question. “Is that why you’re here tonight?”
He nodded.
“Can you tell me what happened? In the past?” Because clearly something had.
After a long moment, he shook his head.
“I accept that. I hope one day you’ll trust me enough to share with me, but if that day never comes, I won’t be upset. Do you understand that?”
“I’m not a stupid man—”
“I never said you were.”
“—but some people look at me and assume that I’m dumb.”
“I don’t think I like those people.”
He frowned.
I motioned for him to continue.
“I have a decent job. But stressful at times.”
“Truly, Foster, I understand.”
“You’re a lawyer.”
“An important job at times, to be certain. I definitely keep busy.”
“I’m just a construction foreman. My job’s complicated. Challenging, but in very different ways from yours.”
“Not my area of expertise, that’s for sure.” I resisted the urge to grab his hands. “We have other things we can discuss. Things that don’t make you unhappy.” I held his gaze. “I will never think less of you for either your employment or your desire to be a pup.”
“Or my skin color.”
“Especially because of your skin color.” Rage bubbled with me. That he’d faced racism angered me beyond belief. I’d faced it as well, of course, but as a lighter-skinned Indian man, perhaps not as much. As much as I wanted to wrap Foster up in a huge embrace, I couldn’t be certain that was what he actually wanted. Actually needed.
“That’s, uh, good then.” He ran his fingernails along his scalp.
Was this nervousness? More questions I didn’t have answers for. “What do you want, Foster?”
He met my gaze with bleak eyes. “To not be alone.”
“And I’m looking for someone special as well. But why don’t we start simple? I’m always looking for friends—”
“Right.” He scoffed.
I grinned. “I come across as having friends, do I? I do, to some extent. Everett, Quinton, August, and by extension, his husband Julian. I have acquaintances like Maddox and Ravi. But true, deep, and abiding friendships? Not so many. I’ve been focused since I was a kid on becoming an attorney and then, once I passed the bar, I’ve been obsessed with establishing my practice.” I offered up a sheepish smile. “And my birth family has a habit of dominating all my free time—what little of it there is. They’re…persistent.”
“Sounds nice.”
No missing the pain in that tone. Something I’d need to ask about later. Again, I resisted the urge to reach out.
As if sensing my thoughts, he moved his hand closer to mine.
“Do you want to hold my hand?” Said as casually as possible, as if the answer didn’t matter. All the while, it meant everything.
“That feels…forward.” He ducked his head.
And I resisted the urge to tip his chin so our gazes met. “Foster?”
He did gaze up.
“There is no right or wrong in this situation. You need to do what feels right for you. I have the right to decline physical affection—as do you. I’m hoping, even if we don’t…get together…that you’ll always choose to be around people who respect that.”
“Everyone seems to.” He scratched his scalp again. “Quinton asked first. Man, is he ever liberal with his affection once you say yes.”
I laughed. “Yes, he’s that. Once you’re in Quinton’s orbit, you’re just kind of pulled along for the ride—no matter how you feel about it.” I tilted my head. “How do you feel about it?”
He bit his lower lip. “At first, it kind of intimidated me. It’s been a long time since I received…any kind of physical affection. Guys on the construction site aren’t prone to hugging it out .”
“No, I suppose not. To their detriment. Human contact, specifically skin-to-skin, is critical for well-being.”
“So if we held hands, it would be good for my health?”
I caught a gleam of amusement. “Exactly what the doctor ordered.”
“I don’t think Dr. McCauley had this in mind.” Still, he slowly slid his hand toward me.
I met him halfway.
Our fingers touched.
After a moment, I encircled his large-and-callused hand in my slender-and-soft one. The contrast made things really obvious. He worked with his body while I worked with my mind. Clearly his work had elements requiring thought, initiative, and likely some form of calculations. But while he put his body to use on a regular basis—as exemplified by his exquisite physique and visible muscles beneath his button-down shirt—I worked out by walking while listening to legal scholars’ debate on podcasts.
I clasped his hand tightly. “Will you have dinner with me? Just two guys hanging out? Nothing special? No pressure?” Except with him, the dinner would be special. It couldn’t help but be. I still didn’t have an answer as to why he’d run from me last time, but that almost didn’t matter.
Almost.
“Dinner?” He might’ve squeaked that.
“Well, neither of us drinks…” Him more than me, but I certainly didn’t need alcohol to enjoy myself. “We could go to the Springs, which is pretty casual. Stavros’s Greek Restaurant is easygoing. I mean, there’s Fifties, which is super friendly.” I enjoyed the diner and often snuck there for some truly Canadian food. A bit away from the Indian cuisine my family prepared and preferred.
“Fifties is a favorite amongst my crew.” Again, he bit his lower lip. “I think…how about Stavros’s?”
“Tomorrow night? Thursday’s often busy, but I’m certain I can get us a reservation.”
He held my gaze for a long time. “Tomorrow night sounds great.”
“Perfect. Can we exchange numbers? In case anything happens to either of us.”
We exchanged numbers, enjoyed a bit of inconsequential talk about Mission City, talked about my work on a recent case—not my choice, but he insisted on understanding a bit of what I did—and then he yawned.
“Sorry. I’m up at five-thirty.”
“Ah, then perhaps we should call it a night. Or might coffee help?”
He shook his head. “Coffee at this hour would keep me up all night.”
“Then yes, perhaps we should go.” I used we because I had zero interest in staying without him. I didn’t want to meet other pups. Foster had me completely enamored. Intrigued. Curious.
When we rose, Dante made his way over.
More inconsequential chitchat. Nothing about pups. Nothing about coming back. Either together or separately.
“I’d feel much happier if I can follow you home and make sure you arrive safely. You can, of course, say no.” I didn’t know how this would be taken. I could be overbearing and too much at times. And for all I knew, Foster might have dealt with a stalker in the past. Or someone who wouldn’t leave him alone. Still, he was clearly exhausted, and watching out for him was an instinct I couldn’t suppress.
“Yeah, that would be okay.” He yawned again. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to be concerned about.” Dante offered him a smile. “Maybe check in with Evan or me tomorrow?”
That was a good idea. Both so Dante had proof I wasn’t a stalker, and also Foster clearly needed to keep in contact with someone from the club. I always encouraged my submissives to cultivate friendships with other people with similar interests. So they’d feel comfortable speaking up if I was doing something that made them unhappy.
To my pleasure, Foster hadn’t groused about what could be perceived as intrusiveness.
Only as I drove home, did I take in the magnitude of the evening.
And when he pulled into the driveway of an adorable little house on Fourth Avenue, I waited until he exited the car, waved to me, and headed inside.
I let out the breath I’d been holding. I still couldn’t be certain he’d show up the next night, but I had a good feeling. Of course, my feelings had failed in the past.
Well, this will be interesting.