Chapter One
“I can get that for you, sir.” Tristan ran ahead of Quinn and opened the bedroom door for him. Quinn watched Tristan’s hand tremble as he turned the knob, his eyes quickly lowering.
“You don’t have to get it for me, and for the hundredth time, please stop calling me sir.” Quinn was becoming extremely frustrated. Not at Tristan, but at the situation. Tristan was a kind and sweet man, but his subservient behavior was driving Quinn nuts. The man had been here for two weeks now, and he still couldn’t get him to break the sir habit.
“It’s okay, I’m used to it.” Tristan stepped aside and pulled the door open for Quinn to walk through. His right foot scratched the back of his left leg as he stared at the floor.
“I’m going from the bedroom to the kitchen. That’s all. I’m not royalty, so please stop,” Quinn said softly as Tristan shifted from foot to foot. “What do you like to do?”
Tristan’s eyes grew wide and his lips parted. He began to sputter. “I–I don’t know. No one has ever asked me that before.”
“Give it some thought, and let me know. A hobby would help you.” Hopefully. Quinn had tried everything he could think of to coax Tristan out of his shell. The man had been abused. He knew that much from the scars that littered the thin man’s back.
He had to convince Tristan to put some clothes on because the guy had walked around naked constantly, refusing to cover himself up. He said he wasn’t allowed clothes and wasn’t going to break the rules.
Just what in the hell had he been through?
“I like to draw, sir.” He spoke in a weak and tremulous whisper. Quinn almost had to ask him to repeat himself.
“Drawing is good. Why don’t I take you to buy some clothes, and then we can get some art supplies for you?” Quinn had also been fighting a losing battle, Tristan refusing to allow Quinn to buy him clothes. Maybe the art thing would be an incentive.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” Tristan sang off-key with his voice breaking on every other note.
Quinn quirked a brow as he ran his hand over his chin. What the hell? “That was, uh, nice.” When Tristan began to sing it again, Quinn held his hands up. His ears could only take so much. “Why don’t you find some shoes to wear while I use the bathroom? I should have something you may be able to fit.”
Tristan nodded, never raising his head. Good. Quinn finally won one battle. Tristan was going to allow him to buy clothing so he could stop walking around naked or in Quinn’s oversized outfits. Not that the view wasn’t pleasant. Hell, it was more than pleasant, but Quinn wasn’t going to take advantage of the guy.
They were going to continue to work on the submissive manner, along with the sir thing.
When Quinn came back into the room, Tristan had on a pair of his sandals. They were at least two sizes too big, and he had purple socks on, too. “I don’t think people wear socks with sandals.” And that is my favorite pair of socks.
“But I like it, sir.” Tristan twisted his feet back and forth, staring at his socked feet with scrutiny. “What’s wrong with them?”
This was the first thing the man had admitted to liking since being here. Quinn wasn’t going to rain on his parade. “It looks fine. Come on, jellybean, let’s go get you some clothes.”
“What do I have to do to repay you, sir?” Tristan took a step back. The anxious look on the man’s face told Quinn to tread carefully. He definitely had his work cut out for him. A tense silence filled the room as Quinn thought of how to proceed.
“How about you relax and be yourself?”
Tristan glanced up this time, a look of uncertainty and mistrust in his eyes. Quinn wished he could erase that look. “Is that all, sir?”
“You can stop calling me sir.” Quinn suggested.
“I’ll try, si—okay.”
“Come on, jellybean.” Quinn walked out of the bedroom, Tristan following close behind. There was a clothing store across from Theo’s Bar and Grill, and Quinn planned on making sure Tristan acquired everything he would need to make his stay more comfortable.
Tristan hesitated at the front door. “Is it safe, sir?” he asked nervously.
“It’s very safe, jellybean. No one is going to hurt you on my watch.” Quinn checked outside nonetheless. “Come on.”
Tristan poked his head out, his eyes scanning the front yard and street, and then he stuck his sandaled toe out onto the porch. He ran to the car, nearly tripping as the large sandals flapped loudly on the brick walkway. Once he was inside the car, he slammed the door, engaged the lock, and buckled his seatbelt, scanning the area the whole time.