“You’re welcome. I hope Alain loves it too. I think he might.”
Neil slipped the paddle back into its bag and led them inside. “This cafe was a good choice for lunch, I think. They have a nice menu.”
M’sieur took him by the shoulders and sent him in after Chou, following behind them both. “Brandon looks good, but his arm is in a cast so he’s taking Peter on a vacation.”
“Yeah? That’s fun, Guapo. He deserves a bit of a break.” Chou waggled his eyebrows. “Pun intended.”
They got to their seats and M’sieur pulled out his chair for him. “I’m thinking we should take Alain up to the cabin before you have to go back to work.”
“Yeah? That would be something. Just to get out of the city for a few days.”
A cabin? Alain wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to, really. He didn’t know how this worked in…normal life.
Was this going to become normal?
“It’s not as rustic as it sounds.” M’sieur sat and smiled at him. “It’s a little house on Lake Placid. I’ve had it forever.”
“Is that where the gators are?” That sounded scary, but he knew from gators.
M’sieur and Chou both stared at him and then started laughing.
“No…” M’sieur shook his head and didn’t seem like he could say anything else yet.
“No, Kitten, and if there were giant man-eating crocs? I would protect your sweet ass.”
Oh, that was good to know. He didn’t want to get eat up. “Thank you, Chou. I appreciate it.”
“Anytime.” Chou just winked at him, that smile warm and fond. If there was a joke, it wasn’t mean, he reckoned. He’d been to some camps back home that were precious little more than an old sofa and a couple tackle boxes in it.
He didn’t imagine M’sieur living like that, even for a couple days. M’sieur was fancy.
“Tell us about your morning, Smokey. Are you all pumped from the gym?” Oh, that look on M’sieur’s face was so fond.
“I had a leg day. It was busy, but—good.” Chou smiled, and those stitches pulled, making it a bit of a grimace.
A server stopped by and dropped off menus and water, saying she'd be right back.
M’sieur reached out and drew his thumb under the stitches before he picked up a menu. “I’ll look at talking those out tomorrow, babe.”
“Good. Good, thanks. They’re ugly, and they itch.” Neil handed him a menu. “Get whatever you’d like, Kitten. This is my treat.”
“Generous boy. I’m having the chicken Caesar salad.” M’sieur leaned close to him. “Neil makes fun of me, but I love salad.”
“I make that from scratch. Lots. I want fried chicken. Is there fried chicken?” He peeked at the menu. Oh, there was a fried chicken platter. Excellent. Some things needed a deep-fat fryer.
“Looks like it. That sounds so good, but food coma isn’t an ideal state for a Dom that needs to work.” M’sieur winked at him, smiling. “I might steal a bite though.”
“You can have two. What you havin’, Chou?”
Isaac and Neil spoke as one. “A burger.”
“Sometimes he gets brave and tries something else, but…”
“Almost never.” Chou shrugged.
M’sieur snorted, nodding. “Almost never.”
“Don’t poke fun, salad boy. You eat like a rabbit.”