Chapter 3
The next three days absolutely fly by. Tyler is in the field, so I don’t see him for his usual coffee runs. He makes sure to text me every night and the conversations are lighthearted. I send him photos of Mochi every day and give him the full update after her late afternoon vet appointment Monday.
The restaurant Tyler chooses for us is perfect. Another Italian place, but he asked if I’d be good with it and I’d said yes. Who doesn’t love Italian? It’s a mom and pop restaurant on the corner of a quiet street.
It’s not too fancy that I feel out of place in my jeans and sweater, but nice enough that it feels special. Warm lighting, checkered tablecloths, the smell of garlic and fresh bread that makes my mouth water the second we walk in.
The hostess seats us at a corner booth, and I slide in, immediately reaching for the breadbasket.
Then I catch myself. Should I wait? Is grabbing bread immediately too eager? Too childish?
Tyler notices my hesitation. "Go ahead. I'm starving too."
"Really?"
"Really. Lunch was eight hours ago." He tears off a piece of bread.
“Sometimes I get busy when I'm working and don’t eat. I get focused and forget,” I confess.
"That's not good for you."
"No, it's not." I agree.
"You need to do a better job taking care of yourself. Try to eat regular meals more often.”
Heat creeps up my neck at his scolding. "Maybe, I’ll try."
"Good. Someone should look after you."
There's something in the way he says it. Like he wants to be the one to look after me. Am I imagining things?
I tear off my own piece of bread, dunking it in the olive oil and balsamic vinegar. It's heaven.
"Oh my God," I moan. "This is so good."
Tyler's eyes darken. "You make that sound for all bread, or just the exceptional stuff?"
I nearly choke. "I—that's—I just really like carbs, okay?"
"Noted. Chloe likes carbs." He's grinning now. Actually grinning. "What else should I know?"
"About my food preferences?"
"About you in general."
I set down my bread. "That's a big question."
"We've got time. How’s Mochi doing?”
"She's fine. I set up the baby monitor app on my phone." I show him the screen, where Mochi is visible sleeping in her bed.
"You got a kitten monitor?"
"Emily texted me the link. Said all good pet parents use them."
"Emily's the yoga instructor?"
"How did you—"
"I've seen her at the gym on base. She teaches a class there Tuesday and Thursday mornings." He takes a sip of water. "She's your best friend, right?"
"How do you know that?"
"You talk about her a lot. When you're making drinks in the morning, you mention her. 'Emily would love this,' or 'I need to tell Emily about that customer. Saturday you told me Emily says you are brave, too." He looks almost embarrassed. "I pay attention."
My heart does a cartwheel. "You really do notice everything."
"When it comes to you? Yes."
The server appears before I can respond, asking for drink orders. This time I order exactly what I want, a half sweet tea, half lemonade combo. My favorite. I don’t need to try and impress him by ordering another Rosé.
"What else? What do you do when you're not making coffee? I know you said you are in a book club. What kind of books do you read again?"
"Romance novels. The spicier the better."
His eyes light with interest. "Yeah? What genre? My best friend’s wife is into Romantacy, I think it’s something about dragons?"
Oh God. Is this really happening? Is Tyler Reid asking about my romance novel preferences?
"Um. Sometimes I read Romantacy, but it’s not my favorite. I’m more into contemporary. Romantic suspense sometimes. But lately I've been reading a lot of... age gap. Forbidden romance. That kind of thing."
"Forbidden how?"
My face is on fire. "Like... boss and employee. Professor and student. That dynamic where one person has more power but they navigate it carefully because they genuinely care about each other."
"Power exchange."
I nearly drop my water glass. "What?"
"That's what it's called. When there's an inherent power imbalance but both people are aware of it and navigate it consensually." He's watching me carefully. "That appeal to you? That dynamic?"
"I... maybe. I don't know. I've never really thought about why I'm drawn to it."
"But you are drawn to it."
"Yes." The word comes out barely above a whisper.
The server returns with our drinks and takes our food order. I decide on Alfredo and Tyler orders some chicken thing that sounds very fancy.
Once we're alone again, he says, "Can I ask you something?"
"Okay."
"I’ve been in your house. I saw the collection of stuffed animals, the fairy lights and our convo about dino nuggets…" His voice is gentle. "Are you a Little, Chloe?"
I freeze.
He knows. Of course he knows. I've been practically screaming it with every word out of my mouth.
"I don't—I'm not—" I can't form a coherent sentence.
"Hey." He reaches across the table, taking my hand. "It's okay. I'm not judging. I'm asking because I want to know you. The real you."
"Why?"
"Because I like you. And if this is part of who you are, I want to understand it."
My throat is tight. "How do you even know about that? About Littles?"
"I have some experience with the dynamic."
My eyes widen. "You do?"
"I was in a D/s relationship a few years ago. After the divorce. It didn't work out, we wanted different things long-term. But I learned a lot about myself in that relationship."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm drawn to caring for people. Guiding them. Creating structure and safety." His thumb traces circles on the back of my hand. "Like I'm Dominant. Specifically, a Daddy Dom."
I can't breathe.
Can't think.
Did Tyler Reid, the man I've been fantasizing about for months, just tell me he's a Daddy Dom?
"Chloe. Breathe."
I suck in air. "Sorry. I'm just—this is a lot."
"I know. And we can slow down. We don't have to talk about this if you're not ready."
"No, I want to. I just—" I take another breath. "I didn't expect you to be so open about it. Most people aren't."
"Most people aren't looking for what I'm looking for. But if you and I are going to explore this—whatever this is—I need to be honest about who I am."
"And you're a Daddy Dom."
"Yes."
"And you think I'm a Little."
"I think you might be. But only you can answer that for sure." He squeezes my hand. "Tell me what you know about it. What you've read or thought about."
I hesitate. This feels vulnerable. Exposing. But something in his eyes makes me feel safe.
"I've read about it. In books mostly. The Naughty Little Girls Book Club—we read a lot of Daddy Dom romances. And all of the girls in the group are Littles. We talk about it. The ones who have found their Daddies tell us how freeing it is to have someone who sees that side of them."
"And you want that?"
"I think so. I've always felt like I'm too much for people. Too childish. Too enthusiastic about silly things. Too needy." My voice cracks. "Like I have to hide parts of myself to be taken seriously."
"What parts?"
"The part that wants to watch cartoons on Saturday mornings. The part that collects stuffed animals because they make me feel safe. The part that still gets excited about things like rainbow sprinkles and stickers and dino nuggies and—" I stop. "See? I'm doing it again. Being too much."
"Chloe." His voice is firm. "Look at me."
I meet his eyes.
"You're not too much. You're not childish. You're someone who knows what brings you joy and you're not afraid to embrace it. That's not a flaw. That's a gift."
Tears prick my eyes. "Really?"
"Really. And any man who made you feel like you need to hide that side of yourself was an idiot who didn't deserve you."
A tear spills over. Then another.
"Hey, hey. No crying." But he's smiling softly. "Unless they're happy tears?"
"They're confused tears. I came here thinking this was a thank you dinner and you're telling me everything I've secretly wanted to hear for years."
"Good. Then I'm doing this right." He hands me a napkin. "Here's what I'm thinking. We have dinner. We talk. We get to know each other like normal people on a normal date. Then, if you're interested, we explore this other thing. The dynamic. See if it fits for both of us."
"What if I'm not good at it?"
"There's no good or bad. There's just what works for us." His eyes are steady on mine. "But I need to know you're interested. That this is something you want to explore."
"I am. I do." The words rush out. "I've wanted this for so long but I was scared. Scared no one would understand. Scared I'd be judged or rejected or—"
"I'm not rejecting you. I'm asking you to be honest with me. To trust me enough to show me who you really are."
"What if who I really am is messy and needy and wants someone to tell her she's doing a good job and tuck her in at night with her stuffed animals?"
His smile is devastating. "Then that's who you are. And I'd be honored to be the person who does those things for you."
I'm full-on crying now. Happy tears. Relieved tears. Tears of feeling seen for the first time in my life.
Tyler moves around the table, sliding into the booth beside me. He pulls me against his chest, one hand rubbing soothing circles on my back.
"Shh. You're okay, sweetheart. I've got you."
Sweetheart. He called me sweetheart.
I burrow into him, breathing in his scent. Clean laundry and something woodsy and masculine.
"I'm sorry," I mumble against his shirt. "I'm ruining our date."
"You're not ruining anything. You're being real with me. That's all I want."
I pull back to look at him. "Really?"
"Really. Though I should probably go back to my side of the table before our food comes and the server thinks I made you cry."
I laugh wetly. "Fair point."
He wipes my tears with his thumb, his touch gentle. "Better?"
"Much better."
"Good girl."
The words hit me like a physical caress. My breath catches.
He notices. Of course he notices.
"You like that," he observes. "When I call you that."
"Yes," I whisper.