Page 28 of Deck the Fire Halls

“Oh, be careful,” I said, kinda reaching for him but not close enough.

He laughed and looked at where he was putting his feet when he stepped back again. “Good night, Rob.”

“Night.” When he got to his porch, I remembered my manners. “Thank you, for tonight. I had a great time.”

His grin lit up his entire face. “I’m glad. I’ll see you... tomorrow or something.”

I nodded, looking forward to it already. “Or something.”

I took myself home, smiling as I unlocked my front door and kicked off my boots. I smiled at my cute house, welcoming and warm, and I was still smiling as I climbed into bed.

I hadn’t been expecting to enjoy myself tonight. To be honest, when Soren had told me he was introducing me to a bunch of guys at a town Christmas tree lighting night, I’d very wrongly assumed it was going to be awkward and lame.

Oh, how wrong I’d been.

The guys were great. Well, what I knew of them so far. I was shocked that this little town had its own circleof queer couples, and I was shocked to find how much I liked them already.

Most circles of rich doctor friends I’d had back in Seattle consisted of pretentious social climbers and superficial snobs. Fine for a dinner party and a few glasses of wine, then after I’d leave early, I’d need a week to take the knives out of my back.

These Hartbridge guys didn’t seem like that at all.

I really liked Gunter and Clay. I could see why Soren might think Gunter and I would get along. We were closer in age, probably. Closer in mental age, anyway. Definitely both quieter, introverted serious types, while Hamish and Braithe were the extroverts for sure.

Soren was definitely more at ease talking to the deputy, Colson, and Ren the hardware guy. And he’d been laughing with Clay when I’d seen him outside the fire station in the morning.

He seemed to fall into stride with the tops of the group, that was for sure. Not that I was presuming...

Yes you are. You’re presuming and stereotyping.

No I’m not.

Yes, you?—

No, it’s called wishful thinking.

Wishful what?

Wishful thinking. You want him to be a top so he can take you to bed and rail you so thoroughly.

Oh my god. That’s not?—

You can’t lie to me. I’m literally your brain.

I pulled my pillow over my face.Shut up. It’s just... he’s sexy and flirty and it feels good to...

To what?

To feel something.

I bet you want to feel his something.

“Oh, shut up,” I said, rolling onto my side. “You’re having conversations with your subconscious. Never a good sign.” I sighed, realizing I was now talking out loud to myself.

This was ridiculous and absurd.

And yet, I was still smiling.

That wasn’t good.

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