The Shepherd (The Game 6)

“Especially when she doesn’t wanna sleep.” Archie made funny faces at her, making her giggle and squish his cheeks together.

I smiled and grabbed their bags and the car seat. “If she’s anything like Sloan’s kids, she’ll fall asleep in the truck.”

“That does happen,” he chuckled. “Okay, I’m ready for a midnight adventure.”

So was I.

Archie sat in the back with Kyla until she fell asleep, which happened approximately ten minutes into the journey. Then I stopped at a gas station so he could join me in the front—after we bought sodas. An energy drink in my case.

“This was not how I expected this night to go,” he admitted with a soft grin. “I’m really glad you wanted to see me.”

“Me too.” I reached across the console and grabbed his hand, only to notice he was holding a piece of paper. “What’s this?”

“Wellll…” He dragged out the word, clearly amused—and a little self-conscious. “I guess I wanna get this out of the way.”

I unfolded the piece of paper, smoothed it out against my thigh, and threw a quick glance at it. And then I was chuckling. He’d printed out the results from an STI screening.

“To quote you, I am good to go.”

“That’s a great piece of information.” I rumbled a laugh and handed back the printout. I couldn’t very well study it in the dark while I was driving, not that I felt the need to look through it properly later either. I trusted him. “I’m good to go too, technically. We’re just gonna talk for hours before anything happens.”

“Hours?”

I grinned and shook my head. “I’m kidding.”

“Thank God.”

Safe to say, Archie was hoping to get lucky tonight.

I did have a few things I wanted to discuss first, though.

I took a swig of my Red Bull and remembered why I didn’t drink these anymore. They were fucking nasty.

“I thought only kids drank Red Bull, Sir,” he noted.

“So you stopped yesterday, in other words?” I wouldn’t get a better opportunity to ask his age. I was curious.

“I’m hardly a kid.” He huffed.

“I wouldn’t know. I never asked how old you were.” I side-eyed him. “Please tell me you’re at least thirty.”

He pursed his lips, and his eyes glinted with amusement. “Ask me after August fourteenth in two years.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. My eyes bugged out. “You’re—you’re twenty-eight?” But before the shock could really settle in, I caught him trying to suppress his laughter. His shoulders were shaking. “You’re screwing with me, boy.”

“Yes, I’m screwing with you,” he laughed. “I’m thirty-three. How this makes such a difference, I don’t understand.”

It didn’t, in the long run. I would’ve gotten over his being twenty-eight before my Red Bull was gone. It was just a rule of thumb, a blurry line, which I tried to explain to him.

“We have so many Daddy Doms and Littles in our community, and I rarely have anything in common with Littles,” I said. “It’s also a matter of maturity. I prefer to meet men who are family-oriented and ready to settle down, however unconventional the route we might take is.”

That didn’t mean Littles weren’t a hoot. Noa was an absolute riot, a tiny ball of fire who was all bark and no bite. Fearless too. He loved challenges. Corey was similar, and, of course, it helped that both were masochists. But I couldn’t imagine spending my life with someone who was crazier than me, and I told Archie that too.

“I can see that,” he replied pensively. “You strike me as a man who needs others to ground you, if only a little.”

He wasn’t wrong. Despite that I would never rush through a demonstration or do a sloppy job at planning an event, I was a bull in a china shop in several aspects of my life. More than that, I went full throttle or not at all.

“I think I’m boring enough to be the right man for the task,” he joked.

Screw that. I threaded our fingers together on his thigh. “The last thing I’d call you is boring.” He was…Christ, already important to me. “You’re incredibly brave, for one. You sought me out even after all the horrible shit I said to you before we parted ways.”

“I had it coming,” he replied quietly.

I shook my head. “Maybe in the heat of the moment, but I regret every word of it today. I should’ve apologized the second the words left my mouth.”

He released a breath and lifted our hands to kiss my fingertips. “We’re getting our second chance now, Sir. That’s all that matters to me.”

I squeezed his hand.

We drove in comfortable silence for a while, and I was just amazed at how calming his touch was. He sat there and brushed his fingers along my knuckles, around my wrist, up my arm, and every motion contributed to the growing serenity in my mind.