Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 42829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
He'd always had a professional self. The one he used to greet customers and take care of them throughout the meal. Mack was thankful he could hide his misery behind that persona.
Often when he left the dimmed light of the restaurant to go pick up food, Mack ran into someone in the brightness of the kitchen who remarked on his paleness or the feverish red patches on his cheeks. He made sure the customers couldn’t tell he wasn’t feeling well. Mack couldn’t fool his co-workers.
“Are you okay to work?” Armando himself asked.
“I’ll get through my shift, sir. Then I have the next two days off. I’ll be better by that time.”
When the post lunch slowdown hit about two, Mack took advantage of not having customers to sit and roll silverware for the evening rush. He disinfected his hands often with hand sanitizer to make sure he wouldn’t pass anything along to the customers. Trying not to breathe on anything was the hardest feat. His professional persona was practically worn out.
“Mack. Go home,” Armando ordered. “We have enough staff to make it through the afternoon and you look dead on your feet.”
“Thanks, Armando. I’m sorry. I’ll work a couple hours past my schedule next week for leaving you in a lurch,” Mack promised as he cleaned up his area.
“You won’t. Clock out and go home. You’re a good worker, Mack. You can call in sick every once in a while. I’m not going to fire you,” the restauranteur promised.
“Thanks, Armando,” Mack repeated with the last of his energy.
He headed for the time clock and checked out before sluggishly waving goodbye to those he saw on his way to the back door. Mack hoped he could make it up the steps into the bus. That seemed overwhelming.
“Mack?”
Grey’s voice had to be a mirage. He was in court today. Mack continued to place one plodding foot in front of the other.
Someone wrapped a warm arm around his waist, and he looked up to see Grey’s concerned face. He barely contained the “Daddy” that wanted to burst from his lips and instead said, “Hi. You shouldn’t get so close to me. I’ve got the crud.”
“I think you’ve got more than the crud, Mack. Let’s get you home,” Grey suggested.
Mack vaguely heard Grey calling his secretary and asking her to reschedule his afternoon meetings for a couple of hours. That arm around his waist absorbed more and more of his weight as they reached Grey’s car in the parking garage. He collapsed into the contoured seat and felt Grey wrap the seatbelt around his waist.
“Thanks, Daddy,” he whispered when Grey joined him in the car. Seconds later, he gave into the exhaustion blanketing him.
“Come on, Little boy. Let’s get you in bed.”
“I’ll just sleep here, Daddy,” Mack protested, snuggling into the seat as he refused to open his eyes.
“I don’t want to spank your bottom while you’re sick, but I will if necessary.”
“No spanking, Daddy.”
“Then let’s get out and you can get into bed with Poutine and Hops,” Grey suggested.
“I have Poutine,” Mack protested, reaching up to push his fingers through his messy bun. His eyes flew open to look at Grey. “I lost her. We have to go back.”
“Let’s go check inside. I think she’s there,” his Daddy told him.
“She’s going to be pissed. I always take her.”
“Poutine will forgive you. I bet she and Hops are having fun together,” Grey assured him.
“Or I lost her.”
Grey tugged him out of the car and supported him into the house and back toward the bedroom. Mack didn’t know how it happened, but a short time later, he was tucked into bed with Hops and Poutine. So thankful he hadn’t lost his best friend, Mack kissed the stuffed otter. To make sure Hops didn’t feel left out, he gave the kangaroo a kiss as well before closing his eyes.
He felt a cool hand on his forehead and pulled the covers closer around his neck. “No, Daddy.”
“Don’t tell your Daddy no, Little boy.”
Mack scrunched his nose but didn’t bother answering. He felt Grey’s presence disappear, and he turned onto his tummy to crash into sleep.
A cool breeze on his bare bottom made him wiggle away. He recognized Grey’s touch as the older man pressed a hand on his hip to hold him in place.
“Dr. Richards needs to know your temperature,” Grey explained.
“Oh.”
While he pondered who Dr. Richards was, he heard Grey open the jar of lubricant he kept in the nightstand.
“No sex, Daddy. I’m sick,” Mack reminded him.
“Definitely not, Little boy. I’m going to take your temperature.”
Mack opened his mouth, ready to get this over with so he could go to sleep. Grey wasn’t going to give up. He slammed his mouth shut with a click of his teeth when Grey lifted one of his buttocks to press a gob of lubricant into his bottom. Automatically, he tried to squirm away, but Grey held him firmly in place.