Page 9 of Screw Christmas
“Nah. I think the criminals are enjoying turkey this evening. They’re too full to cause any trouble.”
He nodded continuing to smile at me. “Quiet for me tonight, too.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. Merry Christmas.” Walking past him to the elevators, I pressed the elevator call button while wondering what Dylan had been up to all day. Maybe I’d luck out and he’d have found alternate arrangements. Maybe he’d come and gone just as quickly? When I left this morning, he’d been passed out on the sofa, snoring loudly with the blanket barely covering his junk. I was pretty sure he’d been naked under the blanket. Not that I spent any time staring…
Okay, maybe I stared a tiny bit. The once hot teenager had become a strikingly handsome man, his muscle leaner and more defined.
As for him finding alternate arrangements, well, I couldn’t have gotten so lucky.
Opening my front door, I was immediately hit with the sound of the television, the volume way too loud for an apartment this size, accompanied by his loud bursts of laughter. Closing the door, I hung my jacket and police gear before entering the living room to see him sprawled out on the sofa where I’d left him, now with a bag of potato chips on his chest while he watched T.V. The pillow and blanket were still on the sofa, but at least he’d gotten up and changed his clothes. Though plaid boxers and a t-shirt was far from fully dressed.
“Busy day?” I asked, the sarcasm thick in my voice as I placed my bag of goodies from the station on my kitchen countertop.
“Oh hey.” Flashing me a smile, he placed the chips on the coffee table and sat upright on the sofa brushing the crumbs from his chest. “Glad you’re home. I got a surprise for you.”
“That so?” Crossing my arms over my chest, I continued, “You haven’t surprised me enough?”
“No. This is a good surprise. I promise. We got to go out though.”
“Damn, Dylan, I just got in. Do you even know how cold it is out there?” After spending the past twelve hours on patrol, going back out had zero appeal to me.
“Yeah, I know. But it’s Christmas, and I wanted to show you how much I appreciate what you’re doing for me.”
“I don’t need you showing me appreciation. Just screw Christmas.”
His brow furrowed, the look he was giving me was one you’d give someone who said they hated kittens or pie. “Screw Christmas? You always loved Christmas,” he replied seeming to be truly perplexed.
I sighed. “It’s snowing up a storm outside. And I’m really tired. Let’s just say Christmas doesn’t have the same appeal anymore and leave it at that.”
“I understand, but it’s just a little snow. You used to love the snow.”
“That was twenty years ago.” Grabbing a Keurig cup of hot chocolate, I started up the Keurig machine. I had a chill in me that pierced me right through to the bones and it refused to go away.
“You’re saying you can’t like the snow because you’re older now? That’s messed up.” He gave me the puppy look that I was all too familiar with. It brought memories rushing back to me that I preferred to keep locked away. It was amazing how quickly memories that had been long since forgotten could come back with just a bit of prodding.
“What can I say? I’ve been jaded by real life.”
Flipping the blanket off himself, he leapt from the sofa and came over to me grasping each of my upper arms in his hands. “I’m not taking no for answer. It’s not all that far away. Promise.”
I was tired; I wasn’t lying about that. I’d spent a fair amount of the previous night tossing and turning, mostly because Dylan fucking O’Connell was sleeping on my sofa. “If I agree to go with you, will you let me do my own thing and hate the rest of Christmas day in peace?”
“Oh, I can’t let you hate Christmas—not this Christmas. No Grinches allowed.”
“I’m good at being a Grinch. I’ve perfected it over the years, so you’ve got your work cut out for you.”
My gaze followed him as he walked into the kitchen and opened my fridge. “You live like a bachelor. You’ve got beer, leftover takeout, and luncheon meats in here. Was the hamburger and fries all you really had?” Closing the fridge, he opened a couple of the cupboards and motioned to the contents which were slim.
“Look, I live in Manhattan. Takeout is what we do. Consider it supporting local businesses.”
“Then you won’t have any issues going with me tonight.” He gave me a cocky grin, knowing he was about to win. “So, we can support local businesses. What better way to show our gratitude for them staying open to feed us?”
There was a look in his eyes that told me he wasn’t about to give up on this until he got the answer he was seeking. Maybe it was for the best if I just got it over with and admittedly, I could use something a little more substantial than what could be found in my fridge or what I’d brought home. “Fine. You win. But don’t think for a moment that I don’t know that you’re full of shit.”
His grin widened. “Was that so hard?”
“Yes. It was.”
Spinning me around, he pushed me towards the bedroom door. “Now go and get yourself out of that uniform and into something more comfortable. I might even put on some pants and a nice shirt for you.”
