Chapter Six

Gray

London, as it turned out, was a dentist, and he'd told me something about his work, which he loved. I'd always thought it would be a really hard job to have, but he said it was worth it to be able to help people so much. It was also a lot of pressure because most of his patients were nervous or at least not thrilled to have to pay him a visit in his office. Even when they were going for a cleaning, there was always the worry that something might turn up on the X-rays. Part of his job was shouldering the burden of his patients' emotions, letting them know he would take good care of them and fix whatever was wrong with their teeth or other parts of their mouths.

Many littles had high-pressure jobs like this. Often rewarding and loved, but a lot. For them, being able to slip into little mode could be not only enjoyable but, in some cases, therapeutic. After all, everyone needed to let their hair down sometime.

I was just wrapping up a meeting when I got a text from London. Really rough day today. Want to get together?

Yes. Give me a minute. I bid the customer goodbye and headed out to my car before hitting dial.

"You aren't texting," he said, picking up.

"No, sounded like a talking sort of thing. What happened to make your day so rough?"

"Oh, it was bad. There was a patient—he lost it and started demanding that I put a tooth back I had just pulled out. It was a reaction to the anesthetic, I'm sure, but it was the worst one ever. He started trashing the room, trying to grab and break just about everything, and we had to call for the EMTs to get him to the hospital. He's going to be all right, and the bad part is, he knew he reacted when he was put under. It had happened before and he didn't tell me."

"That sucks." I set the phone in its slot and the car speaker picked it up. "Why don't I come over and bring dinner?"

"Actually, that would be really nice. I don't feel up to going out, but I could use the company."

"Do you need a ride home?"

"No, it's not that bad. I can drive, but a nice quiet evening at home would be just the ticket." We talked for another minute or two and then he had to go shut down the office. "See you in a little while."

"I'm on my way. I'll just stop and pick up the food. Anything in particular you want?"

"No, it's up to you." His voice was so tired, I ached for him. "Burgers, tacos, whatever is easiest. I'm going to get right in the shower, so I'll leave the key under the mat."

Ordinarily, I'd have told him that was not safe, but I'd be there very shortly and I'd save that conversation for later. "All right. See you soon."

I was pulling out of the parking lot when I remembered the restaurant inside the train station where we'd taken our trip and headed in that direction. I'd heard some of the littles saying they had special-themed meals that I thought might be perfect for a very tired dentist who needed to relax.

Shortly thereafter, I arrived at London's home with a bag of dinner and a hope that he was feeling a little better after his shower. I knocked out of courtesy, but when he didn't answer, I found the key under the mat and unlocked the door.

Inside, I hung the key on a rack of others in the foyer and stepped into a very nicely furnished living room. Not stuffy or fancy, but good quality sofas and chairs were arranged in a room large enough they did not have to line the walls, and I liked that. The artwork on the walls was the only hint of this little's love of railroads. Framed photos of trains and views from train windows were hung at eye level, and I suspected most if not all had been taken by London himself. The people I knew at the railroads often called enthusiasts, especially those who enjoyed watching trains go by "foamers," but those who engaged in the hobby preferred the term "rail fan," for the most part.

The distant sounds of running water told me he was still showering, so I searched out the kitchen and found plates in the cupboard. My hand hovered over the plastic divided one with trains on it, but we weren't there yet. I was already tipping the scales a little with my choice of meals. The shower cut off, and I heard footfalls upstairs, so I called it time to get everything ready.

A few minutes later, London padded into the kitchen on bare feet. His pajama pants hung on his lean hips and his white T-shirt outlined a body that his conductor's vest had not done justice to. On closer look—okay I was looking—the pattern of the pajamas was very tiny rail cars and smiling engineer faces. So cute, but not something only a little would wear.

"Sorry I'm in pj's. I hope you don't mind." A rueful grin lifted his full lips and, with his damp hair combed back from his face, he was the glossy magazine cover image of sexy man at home .

I did not drool. Quite.

"You're fine." Naked would be good too. Bad, Gray! But as good as he looked, tiny lines bracketed his lips and his eyes were shadowed. Sexy thoughts were replaced by caregiver desires. "Sit at the counter, or would you rather go into the living room and eat?" Some people were living-room eaters and others preferred a flat service like a table. One of those intimate things to know about a person. I had seen him eating in the dining car, but restaurant settings were different.

"When I'm here alone, I usually eat in front of the TV. Is that terrible?"

"Not terrible at all." I placed my hands on his shoulders and turned him toward the living room. "Go sit down and find something we can watch while we eat."

He looked at me over his shoulder and brightened a little. "Do you like animated features?"

"Yes. I do, and I think that would be a good choice after a rough day." I pulled out a couple of napkins from the drawer next to the sink. "Got any trays with legs?"

He stared at me for a second before chuckling. "I really should, shouldn't I? It would save me a lot of time cleaning the couch."

"Okay, just go get comfy." I gave him a little push. "I hope you like spinach and sardines."

"What?" He stopped in the doorway and turned around. "Is that what you got?"

"Don't you want to be surprised?"

He cocked his head then shook it. "No because that would make me horrified. Seriously, are we having spinach and sardines? And if so, what drive-thru sells that? Gross Foods are Us?"

"You are having nuggets."

He beamed at me. "Now that's good eats." Turning on a heel, he loped into the living room, almost but not quite skipping.

So adorable.

I arranged my fried chicken sandwich and slaw on one plate and set the themed meal in its box on the other. Unboxing in the world of specialty kids' meals was a big part of the experience, as I had learned the hard way with my ex. He cried. I wanted to cry… Anyway. Never open the kids' meal without permission—which will not be granted.

The box came with a chocolate milk, so I grabbed a water from the fridge for myself and carried everything into the living room and set it on the coffee table. I'd hoped to make him feel better, but when his gaze lit on the box, he sucked in a breath. "Did you go to the station just to get that for me?"

"Yes. I thought you might like it. Did I do right?"

He leaped up and flung his arms around my neck. "You did perfect. When we went on our trip, I wanted to get one to take home, but they were sold out." No big surprise with so many train-loving littles around. "What is in it?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't open it." Because I knew better.

London let go of me and plopped down on the couch again. "Sit with me? We can look together."

"All right." I sat down next to him and watched while he rubbed his hands together before carefully unfastening the top of the box. It was emblazoned with a train that ran around the whole outside in front of a landscape that varied on each side of the box. A farm. A desert. Mountains. And the beach. "Let's see what's inside."

He reached in and came out with the box of milk, which was probably not ice cold at this point, but since it was shelf stable, it wouldn't hurt him. "Chocolate milk." He continued to pull things out. "Chicky nuggets. Barbecue dip."

"I didn't know what kind of sauce you liked so there's also ranch."

"I like to mix them up." I was learning a lot about this little even when he wasn't all the way little. "And fries. No apple slices or carrot sticks."

"Would you rather have had those? Usually they would be my choice for nutrition, but I figured it was a day for indulgence."

"Always fries, if fries are possible." He nodded wisely then wiggled his fingers. "Is there a toy?"

"I guess you'd better check." Of course there was a toy. I'd made sure of it, but he was having so much fun with the exploration.

"'Kay." He pulled a napkin out of the box and tossed it over his shoulder. "Ah! Oh my goodness." Whatever toy it was, it was making someone very happy. "A train whistle!" He held the item in the air and waved it around before bringing it to his lips and blowing. It looked like a little tin train, but the sound that came out did resemble the whistle on a train.

It took a while to refocus London on dinner, and he first had to line up his favorite train with his new whistle on the table. But finally we ate and watched the cartoon that featured a town about to lose their train and the people who saved the day. He was asleep beside me by the time it ended, and I eased him to his feet and took him to bed. Tucking him in, I kissed him on the forehead and got ready to leave, but he reached a hand out from under the covers.

"Stay till I fall asleep please?"

I settled on the bed next to him and he snuggled against me and drifted off. I hated that he'd had such a rough day, but I was very glad that I could be there to help him even a little to feel better. It warmed my daddy heart.