Page 6 of Just for the Holidays

“It’ll have to be…” Teddy bites back a chuckle. “Do you have luggage in there?.”

Nichol nods and shimmies back to the front, folding into the car to find the trunk’s release button.

Teddy ogles his slender glutes and long thighs, stressing taut dark denim. The man is beautifully preserved, like a fancy French Grenier in wax casing. He slips his tongue across parched lips as the latch pops and the car’s lid rises.

Teddy sloshes two rolling suitcases across the street and Nichol straps a large duffle across his body, hugging a cardboard box, and scooting back to the Ranger. They load the snow-filled truck bed and slip into their seats, buckling their safety belts.

“I should not have come back here,” Nichol grumbles, blowing heated breath into his fists, glaring at the abandoned Tesla, smugly gleaming under a street light.

Teddy twists the key. The truck ticks then rumbles, and finally roars to life as cold air rushes from the dashboard vents and a bellowing pop diva blares over static muffled speakers. His fingers fumble for the right dial to lower the volume.

“Sorry.”

Nichol chomps into his crusty chilled bagel sandwich and swigs lukewarm coffee.

“Are you staying with your parents?” Teddy cranks the steering wheel and the truck skids into the street.

“I’m staying with my sister. She lives on…”

“I know where Katie lives,” Teddy interrupts.

“Great.” Nichol gnaws a mouthful of mush, washing it down with a rapidly cooling brew.

“How is she?” Teddy tries to fill the cab with conversation as best he can. “She hasn’t come into the shop for a long time.”

“Good, I guess.” Nichol sucks cream cheese off the tips of his fingers.

Teddy pours bitter coffee down his throat—he forgot the sugar—and sets the empty mug on the seat next to him, reaching for his wrapped bagel on the dash, he peels back the wax paper with hooked fingers and sinks his teeth into the crunchy bread with its gooey cream-cheese center.

“I’ve forgotten how terrible winter is here,” Nichol whines.

“It’s not like this in Seattle?”

“You know I live in Seattle?” Nichol’s brow furrows.

“This is a small town. Everyone knows your business.’’

“Great.” Nichol stares out the window.

“How was the drive here?”

“Long.”

Teddy browses his social database for more interesting topics he might have stored away. He’s always been awkward when he’s just trying to be friendly. There’s extra tension in the little cab, considering Nicholas Anderson had been the catalyst for his sexual awakening back in middle school.

A group of kids in the three grades between them were teasing Teddy on the school bus one morning, but Nichol invited him to share the same seat, ushering him into safety next to the window, glaring and guarding him until the bullies submitted and moved on to someone else.

Nichol turned to little Teddy with glittery blue eyes, grit teeth, and a “screw them” growl that lit embers in his belly and the firsthard swelling in his pants. That crush carried on for years until Nichol moved away for college.

He owes him a stimulating chat, at the very least.

Chapter 5

Nichol

Where’s your mother?

Three-point-five miles is an eternity in awkward silence. The bearded baker, diffusing that delicious aroma of fresh bread and warm honey—unless it’s just the boxes of baked goods in the cab—could have left the music on.

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