Page 42 of Just for the Holidays

“Yes,” Nichol says, grumbly.

“Why not just go out with Brett?” Teddy peers from the side of his face.

“I’m not interested.” Nichol snaps.

“You probably would be.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You and Brett would make a beautiful pairing.” Teddy pulls the fresh baked cookies out of the oven and slips two more sheets in their place. “You’re both basically, catalog models.”

“Pass.” Nichol barks.

The edge of Teddy’s brow flips up.Not the response I expected.

“What is it that you want?” Teddy digs.

“I have no idea.’’ Nichol mumbles.

“I can play along… for the party.” Teddy is already regretting his words.

“You don’t have to.” Nichol’s attention is drawn out the window, by the sudden rush of snowflakes falling from the sky.

“I think we’re in for another big storm. We should get you home before it’s bad out,” Teddy covers the rest of the trays, to finish the baking for after the gym, gathers his duffle, places it next to the counter, and pulls the two trays of sugar cookies from the oven, setting them aside to cool.

The flurries fall heavy to the ground but melt on the pavement, still warm from the day’s sun. The little truck grumbles along, playing a continuation of holiday music, filling the cab for the short trip to Katie’s house.

Nichol squawks the door open, but turns back, with one foot hanging out. “By the way… When you see me wearing a matching sweater with my entire family, do NOT laugh.” He’s stone-faced serious.

“No promises,” Teddy chuffs.

Nichol struts into the house and Teddy watches him go, before deciding to skip the gym, realizing he has nothing to wear for a holiday party. There’s a shopping mall forty minutes away, that’s bound to have something he can pick up. So he backs out of the driveway and carries on, toward the new destination.

Chapter 25

Nichol

Guncling

“How was the museum?” Nichol asks Max as he climbs the top step and peers over the half-wall bannister into the living room.

Max and Stuart are tweedle-twinning on the sofa, engulfed in a Christmas special on the television.

“It was good.” The kid doesn’t take his eyes off the screen.

Stuart hops down and circles Nichol’s ankles with his tongue hanging from the side of his broad smile.

Nichol pets the top of his head and strokes his back, tickling the spot above his curled-up tail, igniting convulsive snorts, before the pup hops back onto the sofa and cuddles under Max’s arm.

Nichol passes through the archway, into the kitchen, where Katie is sifting through mail, looking up briefly at Nichol’s piercing glare.

“You couldn’t even make it to lunch before telling her?” he growls.

“You were barely out of the car when she called me.” Katie chuckles.

“She came into the shop and invited him to the party.” Nichol scowls at his sister.

“I told her not to do that.’’ She rolls her shoulders.

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