Page 9 of The Holiday Fail

That reminded me our new chef was supposedly from New York too. My dads told me he’d arrived last night, but I hadn’t met him yet. He was supposed to stay at my place since we’d need every room at the B&B soon.

Was I worried about a stranger living with me?

Not really. Growing up in a small town like ours, there was no such thing as a stranger. Plus, I wasn’t a small dude.

Working at the B&B had kept me in shape, so if this guy had any strange ideas, I wasn’t an easy target.

It also helped that we background-checked the hell out of him, so no, I wasn’t really worried about him in my space.

I usually loved the company, and maybe that was a side-effect of growing up at Fated Encounters. Our B&B wasn’t large, and with ten guest rooms, you didn’t really get a whole lot of alone time.

That was probably one of the reasons why I liked being surrounded by people so much. Hell, I would have stayed living with my parents at the B&B if that hadn’t cramped my dating life.

And that led me to the reason why I wasn’t as excited about this arrangement as I usually would have been. This was now, what, the third, fourth time I’d been dumped? And that was only counting this year!

Sure, I wasn’tin lovewith every single one of them, but I’d been committed to seeing where the relationship would take us. Apparently, I wasn’t even worth the chance since they all broke it off using the same excuses. It was time for them to settle down with someone…who wasn’t me.

What a way to bruise a guy’s ego.

So I couldn’t really be blamed if I wanted some time alone to sulk at my house and lick my wounds, could I?

After I parked in the B&B’s parking lot, the ladies scurried off to the dining room for a quick lunch before they settled down for a nap. Meanwhile, I ran the first batch of shopping bags to their rooms, with their permission, of course.

“Holy moly.” My dad whistled when he saw the sheer number of bags that were hanging off my arms.

“There’s more in the car if you wanna help,” I said and shuffled up the stairs to the guest’s room. Dad came up not long after with the last load of shopping bags.

“Wow, those ladies sure can shop,” he commented.

“Yep. Imagine being their pack mule for the day too,” I said, rubbing my poor, sore arms. They weren’t made to carry around shopping bags all day.

Dad laughed, then clapped me on the shoulder. He studied my face as if trying to find something. “You okay?”

I shifted on my feet. I’d stopped telling my parents aboutmy dates years ago when I’d had my heart broken for the first time.

My dads weren’t a huge fan of the fact that I liked men much older than I was and had been even more pissed when they learned most of them were just playing around with me. Andthatwas a conversation I never wanted to have with them again, so I stopped talking about my dating life.

“Yeah, just had one too many beers with Jim and Austin last night,” I replied, hoping that was answer enough for him to drop it.

He watched me for another few seconds before squeezing my shoulder again. “Well, let me know if there’s anything you want to talk about. Your pops is worried about you.”

“I’ll check in with Pops later. Thanks, Dad,” I said, which only made him frown. “Okay,Bàba,” I corrected. Dad beamed.

A few years ago, he’d decided he was tired of the boring title ofDad. And since his husband got the title ofPops, he insisted on being calledBàba, which meant dad in Mandarin. But after years of calling himDad, I’d sometimes forget to use the new title. He didn’t mind when I referred to him as Dad, he just wanted me to call himBàba.

Mandarin was Pops’ mother language, and he’d tried to teach me it growing up, but I never really got the hang of it. I knew some vocabulary and a fewveryimportant phrases likeI’m hungryandI want ice cream, but I couldn’t hold up my end of a conversation.

“All right, you should head down and get some lunch first. Your pops and I just ate, and let me tell you, our new chef is the real deal,” Dad said, rubbing his protruding belly.

As if on cue, a loud growl came from my stomach. “I can’t wait to dig in,” I replied and rubbed my own belly. I hadn’t even noticed how hungry I was until Dad mentioned it.

Dad laughed as we headed down the stairs back into thereceptionist area. He returned to his seat behind the counter and fiddled with something on the table.

When I looked around, I saw it was the new camera Pops had gotten him for his birthday.

Ever since I could remember, Dad had loved taking pictures. In the upstairs living quarters, the walls were filled with photos Dad had taken throughout the years. They were mostly of our family on different occasions and outings we’d gone to, but also of the beautiful landscape that surrounded us.

Wintertown was in the middle of nowhere, and while some claimed that to be one of the negatives of our small town, I thought the opposite.

---