Page 17 of Deck the Fire Halls

“You were wearing a tight T-shirt, and you were wet, and I was pulling a coat on because it was cold. I had concerns for your health.”

He laughed, such a pretty sound, and his eyes glittered with humor. “Hm-mm. Sure.”

My face was on fire, and I didn’t even care. “So, what about you? What vibes do you give off?”

“One hundred percent gay vibes.” Then, as if he remembered something, he shifted in his seat and took another mouthful of stew, ripping apart some bread while he chewed. “And tragically single. And you said you were too... but is there not someone you left behind in Seattle? A handsome cardiothoracic surgeon who’s going to turn up here to try to win you back, perhaps?”

I snorted. “I think you’ve watched one too many Hallmark movies.”

He smiled, kind of. “That wasn’t a no.”

“There’s no one. Cardiothoracic surgeon or otherwise. Hasn’t been anyone in a long time.” I sighed. “My entire life has been work. Hence the disillusioned, catastrophic burnout.”

His hazel eyes met mine. “Disillusioned catastrophic burnout. Sounds bad.”

“It was.” I frowned, my appetite waning. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to crash the mood.”

“You didn’t, so don’t be sorry. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“What about you? I can’t imagine this little town of Hartbridge has a thriving queer dating scene.”

He chuckled. “Dating, absolutely zero. As for queer guys, there’s a few of us. All established couples, though. I’ve been the odd one out for a while.” I knew about the couples but still mustn’t have hidden my surprise too well because he laughed. “You seem shocked.”

“Well, yeah. But not really about the fact there are gay couples here. More that you’re single.”

“Me?”

I gestured in his general direction, then up and down for good measure. “Harley Davidson-riding firefighter. I’ve seen you wearing a T-shirt washing the fire engine, remember?” I sipped my wine, wondering what I was missing about him. He was gorgeous, yes. But he was also funny and sweet and a good cook, and kind enough to offer to cook his new neighbor dinner.

He laughed as he swallowed his food. “Well, you see, there’s this running joke in this town. Well, between us queer guys, that there’s some crazy Christmas Cupid thatsets his sights on queer men and makes them fall madly in love. I’ve been late to the party, apparently, because he missed me. Popped the other guys good and well, though.”

I snorted out a laugh. “Cupid?”

He nodded. “Slings and arrows and all that.”

Now I stared. “Did you... did you just quote Shakespeare?”

His eyes met mine. “I did, yes.”

My heart thumped. “Okay, so a Harley Davidson-riding firefighter who quotes Shakespeare. I’m clearly missing something. What’s the real reason you’re single?”

He barked out a laugh. “Ouch. I don’t know. I’m kinda new to town. Been here two years. Kept my head down for the first year, in respects to dating. I’d go back to Missoula to get any particular itch scratched, if you know what I mean.”

“I believe I do know, yes.”

“And I do shiftwork. We’re only a small town, so we don’t do twenty-four hour shifts like the bigger fire halls. One week, is seven a.m. till four p.m. Second week is three p.m. to midnight, and week three I do the solo graveyard, and I’m always on-call. Makes it kind of difficult to meet people and keep them when I don’t keep normal hours.”

“Oh, believe me, I know.”

God, if anyone understood that it was me.

He smiled. “Last year, I thought for all of half a second I might’ve had a chance with the new schoolteacher who came to town, but he only had eyes for the deputy. The Christmas Cupid got them both.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Not really. I mean, for me, maybe. But not for them. I’ve become pretty good friends with the deputy this last year, and they’re so in love it could be akin to madness. I can see now that I was never in the running, because they’re ridiculously perfect for each other.”

I snorted. “Akin to madness.”

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