Page 20 of Christmas Trouble

Azrael jumped to his feet, afraid to hope, and hurried to the door.

It could be any other member of Pegasus, Genesis, or Erebus. Hell, it could be someone from Phoenix.

Yanking open the door, he stood, gazing up into Real’s blue-gray eyes.

“I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I changed my mind,” Real murmured and Azrael got déjà vu. The former SEAL crowded him back from the doorway. “Where are your socks?” The words were growled at him in Real’s raspy voice and Azrael laughed.

“I was sitting on the couch, I don’t need socks,” Azrael tried, but couldn’t get the vision of Real with another guy out of his mind and his anger resurfaced. Rather than start a fight, Azrael spun and made his way back to said couch, curled up and pulled the throw blanket over his lap.

Real put his go bag down and removed his leather work boots. The teenager moved like a dancer and Real couldn’t stop his gaze from following Azrael.

With his boots removed and coat on the hook by the door, Real snagged his go bag and made his way into the great room.

“Get snowed in?” Azrael said with a lifted brow barely visible through the fall of silky dark hair.

Real squinted at the sarcastic comment.

“No,” he grunted.

“So you’re here by choice?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Azrael gave him a satisfied smile. “Merry Christmas.”

Rather than return the greeting, Real stared at Azrael. After a long moment of locking eyes, Azrael glanced toward the cold fireplace.

“Can you start a fire?”

Instead of answering, Real pushed to his feet and laid wood on the blackened grate. Within a few minutes, he had the fire going. Crackles and snaps filled the quiet room and sent a glow over the surrounding area.

“What are you reading?”

“Eruption, by Michael Crichton and James Patterson,” Azrael said, showing Real the orange cover with the volcano on the front.

“Is that the one that uses Crichton’s partial manuscript?” Real asked.

“Yeah, Crichton’s wife decided that James Patterson was the right author to finish writing his book.”

“Is it any good?”

“Yeah, it’s fast paced like Patterson, but sciencey like Crichton.”

“Lend it to me when you finish,” Real murmured, stretching his legs out.

When Real snagged part of his throw blanket, Azrael tightened his grip on it.

With a puzzled frown, Real locked eyes with his.

Azrael knew it was unreasonable to hold onto his anger over Real’s actions, and he sighed. Making a quick decision, he decided he wasn’t going to hold a grudge. As long as Real didn’t go off and screw someone else, he could let go of his anger for the holidays.

Azrael relented and took it upon himself to arrange the blanket over Real’s lap. The man closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch cushions.

And there, in the quiet of the room, the fire sent a glow over a young man on the cusp of becoming an adult and a retired soldier in the prime of his life.

And if someone were watching them, they might think they were destined to be together.

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