Page 16 of The Christmas Keeper

“God, yeah, it’s totally open. I have water and soap.”

“Then I should be set.”

I rubbed at my chest, right over where my heart was thundering in a mix of fear and happiness.

“I have bath towels too, just so you know.”

“Good to hear. The bar towels are a little small to dry off with.”

I snickered. Man, I really, really liked this guy. “So the kiss…”

“Was miraculous.”

Wow, that was some high praise. I hoped to experience another miracle or two tomorrow. I’d have to thank Nora for insisting I take one day a week off for good mental health. Spending a wintry Sunday with Kenan was going to be the best thing I’d done for my well-being since I’d traveled to Canada to be the brother of honor. I’d have to thank my sister for that too. Her head would be the size of a half keg when we spoke next.

Chapter Five

Sunday morning was usually a layabout day for me.

After I tended to Fred and Wilma, that was. One thing about having pets was that no matter what, you had to get up and take care of them. Hot, cold, rain. Weather didn’t matter, those critters needed attention. But this Sunday I was up at the crack of dawn, unable to fall into a deep sleep due to a severe case of jitters. I’d not had anyone over to my place, other than Mr. Blum, for years. And it showed. So after filling up water dishes and pools, the treat dish with half a head of lettuce—geese love the greens, especially in the winter when they can’t get to grass—and their feed bowl with waterfowl pellets mixed with some corn, I scurried back inside, grabbed a cup of coffee, and started cleaning.

It was amazing how much dust accumulated when you never dusted.

Three hours later, my little house was passable. My mother would condemn it, but she wasn’t here, so there would be no white glove treatment of the windowsills. I’d dusted, vacuumed, and scrubbed the stove. The kitchen floor had been mopped.After giving my hard work a perusal, I decreed my home fit for a guest. Mostly. A text came in a few minutes later from Kenan asking if I was open for laundry service. I hit him back, then jumped into the shower, found some decent clothes, and even slid a small hoop earring into my lobe. I generally just wore a silver stud, but today felt special.

“Because nothing spells romance like adding fabric softener to someone’s underwear,” I muttered at the stupidity of it all. We’d shared a few kisses. That was it. Sure, they were hot as hell and had left me tossing all night until I’d taken matters into hand, literally, to ensure I got a little rest. I was being stupid. And dumb. “They’re synonyms, Brann,” I told myself because I was now, it seemed, Mrs. Abrahms, my ninth grade English teacher. Were they synonyms? Fuck, who knew? Everything I learned in high school, I promptly forgot as soon as I got that diploma. Other than the things I learned about sex. Those lessons stuck. Sadly, it was all about het sex, so we didn’t get the inside scoop on how to prep for anal sex, which is silly since anal isn’t just for us gay guys. Still though, I did know how to roll a condom onto a banana, so thanks to Coach Slattery for that. It would have been fun to see the football coach who called everyone who didn’t perform up to his specs a flower petal flouncy boy have to explain to the class about how to rim a guy to get him ready for a good ass pounding.

The doorbell rang, jostling me out of my walk down memory lane. I rushed to the door, took a deep breath, and yanked it open. Kenan stood on my front step, cheeks pink from the cold, two fat duffel bags hanging off his shoulders.

“Good morning,” he crowed merrily, then gave me a huge hug with a kiss on the cheek. He seemed very European at times with all the hugging and smooching.

“Come in, please.” I stepped aside. He slid inside, stomped the light snow off his sneakers, and placed his bags on the floor. “You can leave your boots there on the tray.”

“It snowed overnight, just a little bit. The drive over here was magical. Slippery at places. My car needs better winter tires, but since I’m heading south, I should be okay.”

“South, yeah, it’s much warmer in the south.”

Oh my God, Brann, you enormous pudding head.

“So it is,” he concurred and hung his coat in the small closet by the front door. “I’m not a big fan of the cold but I must say a kiss of Jack Frost on your nose sure makes it feel like Christmas.” He gave my small but tidy home a once over then smiled. “This is a really nice place. It feels like you.”

I glanced at the couch, windows, and dollar store paintings I’d hung on the wall so that Nora would stop telling me I lived in a tomb. The place was pretty bereft of anything bright or personal in any way after the great Paulie Purge a few years ago. I’d thrown out everything he had ever touched, including holiday decorations, clothes, pillows, and the stupid oils he’d picked up at some antique store. He liked to fancy himself a trader of fine things. I just called him a traitor. Period.

“Thanks,” I replied. “Why don’t we get your clothes started?”

“Sounds good.” He hefted his bags from the floor to his shoulder. “I appreciate all that you’ve done for me, Brann. Not everyone would take in a stranger like you have.”

“We all have bad times,” I said as we made our way to the little offshoot hall next to the kitchen. “I’ve been there myself.”

He nodded in silence, filling the washer as I prattled on about whatever appeared in my head as I couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything other than the glorious shape of his nose.

Once the first load was agitating, we made our way to the kitchen and made coffee. I offered him a slice of a coffee cake I’d grabbed at the gas station on the way home last night.

“I love coffee cake,” he said and sighed as he took a forkful. “Unless it’s talking to me.” I paused with my fork resting on my lower lip. He frowned slightly. “Sorry, that was a bad anecdote to share on a sunny day. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about my years lost in K-land talking to baked goods.”

“No, hey, we’re able to talk about anything. We’re friends.” I gave him a wobbly smile while praying he didn’t ask me anything personal. “The big thing is that you’re clean now.”

“Yeah, I am.” His smile was bright, his lips covered with tiny bits of cinnamon and brown sugar crumbles. “So, when did you buy this house?”

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