Page 100 of Deck the Fire Halls

Leaving early again, I knocked on the door and he called out, “It’s open.”

He was sitting at his dining table, still in his work clothes, even this late. He smiled at me, but something didn’t quite sit right. “Hey,” I said gently, closing the door behind me. “Wassup? Everything okay?”

He sighed and held up a large wooden fork. “I’m a reasonably intelligent person, right?”

“Smartest man I know.”

“Then perhaps you could explain to me why I cannot, for the life of me, figure this out.”

I chuckled, sitting in the seat next to him. “It’s a fork. I mean, it’s a giant wooden fork, but I’m not sure what you need help with.”

Then I noticed the items on the table. Blue painter’s tape, three tubes of paint, a paper plate, and some foam brushes. And a giant matching wooden spoon, only this one was painted.

“Did you do that?” I asked.

He pouted. “That one was easy.” Then he tapped his phone screen. “This one is not.”

On screen was an image of the Union Jack.

“I cannot mark it out with the tape,” he said.

“Rob, this is a great idea. For Colson and Braithe, right?”

He nodded again. “Well, at this point, the only good thing their salad servers are good for tossing is into the trash.”

I laughed, then abruptly stopped when Rob cut me a glare. “It’s not funny.”

It kinda was.

“Rob, this idea is amazing. This one is amazing.” I pointed to the spoon. One third of the long handle was blue, and two thirds of it were very neatly painted red and white lines.

“I still need to paint the stars on it,” he said, pouting.

He was so stinking cute.

He let out a frustrated snarl. “But this fucking Union Jack!”

“Okay,” I said, taking the offending fork from him before he tossed it across the room. There was also a pile of crumpled up blue painter’s tape, evidence of his previous failed attempts. He clearly hadn’t any practice in wrapping hockey sticks, but I wasn’t about to bring that up. “How about I take it with me to work tonight and get it taped up, at least.”

“And painted,” he added, sulking.

“And painted,” I agreed, smiling at him.

He nodded. “I would appreciate that. Actually, Braithe would appreciate it too, I’m sure, given I would mangle his country’s flag.”

The American flag for Colson and a Union Jack for Braithe. It was so perfect.

“I love this idea,” I said, pulling his seat closer to mine so I could kiss him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help earlier.”

His pout became a smile, and then he blushed, his cheeks a dark pink. God, it did things to me. I ran the back of my fingers across his jaw. “What are you blushing for?”

He chuckled and ducked his head. “I, uh, I...” Then his eyes met mine. “I’ve missed you. Not just in the bedroom.” His blush deepened but he never took his eyes from mine. “I’ve missed you. I want to hear about your week, about your work. If you ordered your parent’s gifts yet. If you’ve been sleeping okay. I want to hear about everything.”

Oh, this man . . .

I took his face in my hands and kissed him, chaste and sweet. “I’ve missed you too. Work’s been fine; busy as always but no emergency calls, thankfully. I ordered my folks’ present at three a.m. two nights ago. It’ll get there next week, just in time for Christmas. And I’ve been getting some sleep. Nothing like when I sleep next to you though.”

“Come here when you finish your shift tomorrow. Sleep in my bed. I’ll look after you.”

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