Don't get me wrong.
I trust myself a lot.
I mean, I have been a man for 38 years. I know myself better than everything else.
I know what turns me on and, basically, what causes me to go against my better judgment.
And I don't think I ever RECALL a 5'4, selfless 21-year-old who has an obsession with knitting and a serious smoking problem being on that list.
He's been in my home for less than a day, and he's already pushed me to my limits more times than I can count, and now…now I don't trust myself.
I was watching him use his crutches as he talked to his family, who were there to help him move in.
He had changed at some point during all the chaos because the nurse recommended he wear shorts so it would be easier for him to take them off.
I blinked slowly. God, I REALLY don't trust myself. Especially with the way he was walking in those shorts.
God, I am fucking horrible.
"You guys are really giving me up to this fuckwad," he said, turning around to make sure I heard him.
I took that as my cue to come over and hear their conversation.
I watched his dad snatch him by his arm. "Don't say anything about him; he's my fucking boss."
I felt a part of me jump. I felt…rage.
"Another part of our deal I forgot to tell you," I said, smiling, and I watched him quickly put his son back.
"I want him to recover fast, and I hope you do as well. And part of that recovery involves..." I stopped and got closer to his dad. "Not fucking touching him like that."
"I'm his dad, and with all due respect, I will do whatever the hell I want to him," he said, talking louder.
I will drag you down; don't even try right now.
"Who pays your bills?" I asked with a smile.
"My job."
"Who pays for your wife's flower shop when it doesn't make enough money?"
"My job."
I raised an eyebrow at him. "Who pays your salary?" I asked.
There was nothing to say after that one.
"Good, I'm glad we are on the same terms," I said with a smile and went back to stand behind Ryder.
"Mijo, you don't have to do this; we can figure it out," his mom said.
"It's fine, Mom; this weirdo isn't even that bad to be around," Ryder said in this calm voice.
He turned to his siblings. "I'll come to pick you guys up still, but this time we are using Big Daddy's car," Ryder said, laughing, and his siblings smiled.
Why are all his nicknames for me something to do with Daddy or Poppa?
I snickered lightly to myself as I itched my face.
God, he's cute.
"When's your next game?" Ryder asked Brandon.
"Not for a couple of weeks."
"And you? When is your next track meet and what events are you running?" he asked Eliza.
"I think this week. Coach has me completely booked. I'm doing the 100, 400, high jump, and the 4x400 because they don't have enough people," Eliza said, all sulky.
"Okay, I'll come watch," he said.
God, he warmed my heart.
"Thank you," Eliza beamed.
"Mijo." Ryder turned his attention to his mom. "We have all of your things you told us to get," Ryder's mom said, and he nodded.
"We don't want to hold Dominic for too long, though," his dad said, and the rest of them nodded.
Ryder sighed, looking irritated.
"Mom, can you help me move in?" Ryder asked, hopefully.
His dad interrupted and put his hand on his wife's back. "We don't want to hold Mr. Caruso for too long," he said, repeating himself.
I smiled at him, and I watched as he almost scrambled to change his response, "Uh, yeah, after we help move Ryder in. Then we can leave."
Good answer.
We started to walk. "Is getting up and down the stairs hard for you, Mijo?" his mom asked.
"Extremely hard, but I'll be okay," Ryder said and then attempted to hit Brandon, who quickly dodged his attack.
"Ryder," I said, sternly.
He turned around to look at me and then rolled his eyes.
"I'm sorry, daddy-o," he said, turning back around.
I didn't want him to hurt himself.
I followed slowly behind his family and gestured to the set of stairs in front of them. "It's the first bedroom on the right; there are a few doors, but it's one of the only ones that are open, and if you somehow miss it and go into the wrong room, I'll show you," I explained, and his family made their way up the flight of stairs with all of the boxes.
I turned my attention back to Ryder, telling him to "turn this way."
He turned around as I bent down.
"We are not doing this again!" He yelled, and as soon as he went over my shoulder, he screamed.
I reached out and grabbed his crutches with one hand and made my way up the stairs.
I put my hand right below his ass as I walked up the stairs.
I then pushed open the now-closed door, and all of the boxes were there.
I gently placed Ryder on his feet and handed him his crutches.
"Am I still bottom-heavy?" he asked, pushing me lightly.
I blinked slowly. I'm thinking thoughts that go against my better judgment right now.
My eyes start to linger up and down his body. His proportions just don't add up. I squinted. I think that's why my body is reacting so much to him.
Or maybe it's because I'm just REALLY horny?
Or is it because he has a fat ass?
Or maybe…it's all of the above?
"Close your mouth," Ryder said. My eyes made their way back to face as I shamefully closed my mouth. I watched as he smiled at me and then went to talk with his family.
I felt myself gulp.
He had a really nice body.
It didn't take a genius to know that.
He wasn't toned or muscular, just like…I don't know. He was small in a way, but only in his height? If that even makes sense.
He was, well, bottom-heavy and had a big ass. His legs were relatively thick, and…I blinked. God, I was staring.
I was staring too much.
I looked around.
"Where's your fam..." I felt the words stop coming out of my mouth as he bent down in front of me.
I closed my eyes.
Against my better judgment.
I let out a long sigh, my eyes still closed.
I wasn't weird like this when I saw him at Isabella's school or when he was in the hospital, even when he went to the bathroom. I wasn't like this.
But now… now that he is in my own home, everything is out the window…My type is all out the window.
I liked tall people, basically anything above 5'8. I don't know.
I liked well-toned, athletic people.
I liked confident people who were self-assured but not egotistical.
I liked smart people who shared my interests in economics.
I liked ambition…people who had life goals.
I liked elegance and grace, people who had nice manners.
I liked loyalty, where they respected my decisions and didn't fight; if they didn't, we talked about it like civil adults.
I liked passion, people with drive, and people who genuinely loved me.
He was 5'4.
He was a little chubby and bottom-heavy.
He wasn't really confident.
He dropped out of high school at 16, but he had a quick wit.
He doesn't have ambitions, goals, or a life plan.
He wasn't elegant, and instead, he was rude and would snap at me.
He fought everything I had to say, even if it helped him.
He didn't…didn't even like me.
So why was my brain so infatuated with him?
"They left, and you looked lost in thought, so I didn't bother telling you," he said, limping around the room.
Because he was considerate (even if a little snappy from time to time).
"And the more they stayed, the more my mom would have tried to change my dad's mind, and I don't want to be the reason my younger siblings don't go to the private college of their dreams."
Because he was selfless and considerate.
"Do you need help?" I asked him, and he nodded.
"Yeah, everything in that box," he said, pointing at a box on the floor, "is my knitting stuff, so, uh, I'm not sure where I would put that, but I would like it to be accessible."
Because he had cute hobbies that didn't fit him, and because he was selfless and considerate.
"Uh, yeah, I will put them over here, and then you can sleep on this side so you can grab them or sit at the desk," I said, pointing at where I was going to put them and down at the bed.
He turned around and looked at me.
Because he was drop-dead gorgeous, had cute hobbies that didn't fit him, and he was selfless and considerate.
He looked around the room. "Hey, wait, is this your room?" he asked, and I laughed.
He rolled his eyes at me. "You are sick and twisted, daddy-o!" he said, shoving a box in my hand. "Go move that over there."
Because he was expressive, drop-dead gorgeous, had cute hobbies that didn't fit him, and was selfless and considerate.
"I just want to take care of you, just in case you need to go to the bathroom and need my help," I said, rambling.
"Whatever you say," he said, rolling his eyes.
"Now come over and help me," he said, using his fingers to beckon me, and I felt myself walking over quickly to help him.
Because he was short, expressive, and drop-dead gorgeous; had cute hobbies that didn't fit him; and was selfless and considerate.
"Where's Isabella? Is she in her room?" he asked.
"Oh, uh, she and Leo are doing their own thing again, I don't really know," I said, and he nodded.
"I can tell you have a soft spot for her, so maybe I can cook for her sometime, or I don't know, the two of us could hang out?" he said, not even looking back at me.
Because he cared about my daughter, was short, expressive, and drop-dead gorgeous, had cute hobbies that didn't suit him, and was selfless and considerate.
"Oh, that would be nice," I said, and I watched as he sat on the bed.
My brain was so infatuated with him because Cupid had me in a chokehold.
"Okay, I'm hungry now," Ryder said, and I nodded.
"Okay, I will go get you food. Anything in mind, or are you fine with anything?"
"I'm fine with anything; just get me some water too, please, and thank you," he said, sitting down on the bed with his knitting.
Cutie.
"Okay, I'll be back."
I walked out of my room and down the stairs.
I made my way down the hall and into the kitchen, and there Leo was standing, "What's up?"
"Don't 'What's up,' me. Did you see my text?" Leo asked.
"No, I was helping Ryder unpack; what did it say?" I asked, opening the fridge and grabbing leftovers and a water bottle.
I placed the water bottle down on the counter and put the leftovers in the microwave.
"Matteo's men are planning on attacking La Notte Nera."
"My favorite club?"
"Yes, I don't know what, but he's planning something, and I already had our men scope out the area, and he said he wants you to come there with me," Leo said.
"You specifically?"
"Yes."
I gave him a weird look, "Sounds suspicious."
"Very, especially after the whole Ryder thing." Leo's expression changed. "He was such a pervert last time," Leo said, and he shivered.
"You still haven't told me what he said besides the whole wanting you as his bitch thing."
Leo gave me a look and then looked away, almost…embarrassed. Fucking weirdo.
"Whatever, tell me when you are ready; I'm going to go give Ryder his food and then head out," I said. I grabbed his food from the microwave, utensils, and the water bottle on the countertop.
I went back up the stairs and into my room.
I opened the door, and there Ryder sat in the same place I had left him. "You wear glasses?" I asked, and Ryder looked up.
God, he just keeps getting cuter.
"I hate them, but as you can tell, I am visually impaired and can't take my contacts out or put them in with the stupid ass arm," he said, holding up his arm.
I nodded, handing him everything.
"Thank you, daddy-o," he said, reaching out to grab it.
He makes my world stand still and makes me forget about my job and everything around me.
"Anytime," I said, and I sat on the bed putting on my shoes.
"Where are you going?"
"One of my favorite nightclubs to stop the fucker who shot you," I said, and he nodded.
"Have fun."
"I won't, but thank you," I said, and I grabbed my phone.
"Text me if you need anything; I'll be back in a couple of hours," I said.
"Bye-bye, daddy-o."
I smiled and let out a light laugh.
Cutie.