Page 16 of Just for the Holidays

“Hmm?” Teddy moves across the kitchen.

Nichol’s eyes follow the baker’s special package, shifting side to side between thick thighs in motion, moistening his lips with the sweep of his tongue.

“Whiskey?” Teddy peers from the side of his face, arching an auburn brow.

“Sure.” Nichol’s cheeks warm.

“Ice?” He waits for an answer.

Nichol nods with a sly grin.

Teddy gathers two tumblers from a wire rack mounted above the sink, scoops up blocks of ice from a freezer tray into each glass, and struts back toward the counter, clinking all the way.

Nichol can’t help but stare at the heavy gray bundle bouncing in the borrowed pants.

“Just a little bit.” Nichol waves near pinched fingers, demonstratinga little bitin front of his winked eye, sucking his cheeks between his teeth and pursed lips.

Teddy pours the golden brown liquid into both glasses and slides one tumbler across the countertop.

“Thanks.” Nichol lifts the sharp-scented booze to his mouth and dumps the bitter liquid over his tongue, setting his throat on fire. “Maybe one more?” he wheezes, licking the bittersweet residue off his lips.

Teddy swigs his own, with a grimace, and shallowly refills their glasses. “You have to drive.”

Nichol sips the fresh pour and giggles. “The one good thing about that car, it has autopilot,” he winks.

Teddy swallows his second shot and pours another.

An hour passes and the shots flow as the pair grow looser with each sip. The whiskey bottle empties, and Teddy breaks out the six-pack of blueberry beer he’d left waiting in the fridge to calm himself before bed.

“I have to admit, I had no idea who you were until Katie pulled out her yearbook at dinner,” Nichol says, crossing his eyes down the length of the beer bottle lifted to his lips.

“Those were not my best years.” Teddy’s face sizzles.

“Those years were a nightmare for all of us.” Nichol swallows.

Teddy huffs.

“What?” Nichol smiles wide with droopy eyes, leaning and elbow on the counter as he gazes at the delicious baker.

“It’s hot in here.” Teddy turns away and pushes the sweats down his thighs, pulling his shorts halfway off his bubbly butt.

Nichol chokes on a sip of beer that catches at the back of his throat and rises into his nose.A jockstrap? In the wild!Suddenly Buttercup Confections is reminiscent of jock night at Club Q, back in Seattle, minus the strobe lights and brain-thudding dance music. He swigs more malt brew to wash down the stuckness clogging his airways.

Teddy wobbles, attempting to peel the sweatpants over his sneakers, bracing himself with one hand on the rack shelving in the center of the kitchen, giving up halfway, and kicking theshoes off with the pants. He fumbles to lift his running shorts back up over his ginger fuzz-freckled bum.

Nichol grabs a cardstock menu from a pile next to the cash register to fan his face and neck.

Teddy moves around the counter and plops down on the stool beside Nichol. His knees sweep and trail the denim seam along Nichol’s hip, as he spins in to face the kitchen.

“This place is a mess,” he chuckles, drunkenly bumping against Nichol’s shoulder.

Nichol’s makeshift fan is no match for the rising heat emanating between his and the baker’s bodies. Knees touch, elbows graze and eyes lock.

Teddy’s soft peach lips glisten with whiskey and temptation.

“I should get going.” Nichol twists on the stool, leaning forward, smooshing his cheek in his palm, propped up by his elbow over the counter.

Teddy stares at his finger tracing the rim of his beer bottle, nodding in agreement.

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