Page 21 of Finding His Silver Fox Daddy

I grinned at how excited he always got. I adored it. “You’re very welcome, Tris. I hope you enjoy it.”

He pursed his lips over the two tiny stirrers I’d given him, and I shifted my weight in lieu of adjusting myself at the sight of his lips and the thought of him sucking on me like that. Jesus, could I ever stop thinking about sex? “Mmm—it tastes so good, too.”

Then he let out a moan, and I froze in place. That moan . . . I spun around, turning my back to him. Once my face was out of sight, my eyes shot wide as realization slammed into me.

That was Substar’s moan.

No. No way. It couldn’t be. How the hell could the cute but sensual Tristan Applegate—my real-life crush, if I was being honest—be the same man as my online crush, Substar? This was way too surreal . . . but I couldn’t deny it.

Everything made perfect sense.

I’d figured the guy was American despite his affected accent given his word choices, but the fact that he lived nearby, in the same fucking city, regularly patronized my bar, and was someone I’d already had my eye on?

Yeah, the universe was giving me a fucking neon sign at this point. It had pointed a giant arrow over Tristan’s head telling me to pay attention.

But what the hell did I do with this information?

I perfunctorily made Cameron’s drink and set it in front of Tristan, too. With a friendly smile and wave, Tristan slid off the barstool, gave me a heartfelt “thanks,” then carried the drinks to the large booth on the other side of the still-sparse dance floor.

As I took and filled orders, my mind was swirling, trying to fill in the blanks. It seemed so obvious now. Sure, I’d never seen Tristan naked, but the body types matched. He’d always kept the top half of his face hidden online, but the clench of his jaw when he came, the way he laughed—stilted when onscreen, of course, but the same essence was there.

How was I so clueless?

After a few hours of me trying—and failing—not to constantly watch him from across the now full dance floor, Tristan sauntered back up to the bar for drink refills, sliding onto the empty barstool in front of me. “Hey, Henry,” he repeated, but this time, he seemed a little off. Tired, maybe? Though the furrow of his brow told me it was probably something else. “I should switch to fruit juice—that okay?”

I smiled gently at him, glad that the bar wasn’t too crowded tonight so I could hold a decent conversation. “You know it is.” I pulled an already filled glass from behind the bar and set it in front of him. “Here. Drink up.”

His smile brightened his eyes, but he still looked a little sad. “Thanks.”

“Hey, Tris?”

He glanced up at me. “Hmm?”

“Is everything okay?”

Tristan wilted right in front of me. “I’m okay. I’m just a little worried about Cameron. He’s . . . distracted tonight. He keeps checking his phone and running to the bathroom.”

I frowned at him. “You think he’s sick?”

He shrugged. “Not sure. He seems fine when he comes out—a little flushed, maybe.”

Ethan sidled up to him just then. “Hey, Henry. Hey, Tris.” He looked the younger man in the eye. “You know what’s up with Cameron?”

Tris shook his head. “We were just speculating.”

Speculating? Damn—the man was intelligent, too? Having a large vocabulary is sexy; sue me.

Ethan’s frown matched mine. “Hmm. I just stopped him to see if he was okay, but he said he had to go to the bathroom.”

“Yeah, he’s been doing that all night. He’s been checking his phone constantly, too, almost like—” His eyes shot wide, then normal Tris was back. A grin spread across his face, lighting up my entire world with sunshine and unicorns. “Oh, shit.”

I had to ask. “What?”

Ethan leaned closer to him. “Yeah, what? What’s going on?”

Tristan threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, that little fucker.”

I was fighting a laugh myself at his reaction. “Care to share with the class, Tris?”