Page 4 of Just for the Holidays

The tantalizing scent of fresh brew fills the air and Teddy’s paprika-sprinkled firearms flex out of rolled sleeves, as he hurls a bin of mugs from a wire rack at the center of the kitchen, and plops them onto the counter next to the coffee maker.

“Coffee?”

Nichol’s eyes are fixed on pillowy pec-cleavage peeking through thin white cotton. “No thank you. I haven’t got cash on me.”

“I take cards.” Teddy rattles two mugs, placing them both under the spout.

Nichol’s jaw hangs while he searches for any excuse that isn’t;I’m broke.

“I’m kidding.” Teddy smirks, “Coffee is free.”

“Then absolutely, yes please?” Nichol smiles.

“Hungry?”

Nichol pensively shakes his head “No.”

“I have bagels left over from yesterday’s batch that I need to donate to the food pantry.” His sea-blue eyes meet Nichol’s. “I’m going to have one before I go. Are you sure you don’t want one?”

Nichol chews his lip.

“No charge.” Teddy spins on his heel and collects a sack of bagels from a wicker basket on the wire shelf.

“Oh, okay.” Nichol is starved.

“Cream cheese?” Teddy offers.

“Please.” Nichol accepts.

“That’s three dollars.”

Nichol’s brows pinch and his upper lip curls.

“Just kidding.” Teddy chuckles, bracing the bagels under his palm, slicing both in one sawing sweep with a long bread knife and popping them into a toaster oven. He turns back to the coffeepot and fills the mugs, handing one off to Nichol. “Cream? —Sugar is right there,” he nods at Nichol’s fingers fidgetly flipping the packets.

“Oat milk?” Nichol requests.

“Coming up.” Teddy’s ass cheeks totter back to the fridge.

Nichol savors a good long gaze at the baker’s backside before Teddy returns with a carton in hand.

“Thanks, Teddy?” Nichol hopes he got that right.

“Where’s your car?” The hunk doesn’t correct him.

Phew!Nichol twists on the stool and points at their reflections in the black window glass. “It’s dead, in the middle of the street,” he turns back.

Teddy stares with wide eyes at his reflection, red-faced, obviously realizing his half-naked body had been on full display minutes ago.

Nichol smirks when their eyes meet again.

“My assistant will be in soon,” Teddy swigs from his steaming mug, wincing and sucking air through his teeth. “I’ll give you a ride,” he mutters, “on my way to drop by the pantry.”

The entry bell chimes on cue, and a short woman with shaggy dyed-black hair falling over darkly smudged eyes, dressed in a faded band t-shirt and shredded skinny jeans, stomps through with chunky soled boots.

“Speak of the devil.” Teddy’s eyes follow her. “Hey, Loren.”

She circles past him, dropping a backpack on the floor next to the sink, and grunts a morning greeting, as she tugs a comically frilly pink apron off the wall and angrily knots it around her waist.

---