Page 53 of Christmas Wishes

Keaton had offered to help me but didn’t push when I told him I had it under control. I appreciated that he’d found his own stuff to do and didn’t pester me to find a project for him. And going by the mess in the kitchen, he’d been baking up a storm.

I was nervous about spending so much time with him, and I needed the time alone while prepping the house to get in the right frame of mind. It was surprisingly easy being around him in the short spurts my busy schedule allowed, but people didn’t usually want long chunks of time in my company. After the storm cleared, Keaton would probably move his flight up to get the hell out of here.

We would most likely spend part of the time fucking, but what else would we do?Talkthe whole time? Hard pass. Keaton would have to take up talking with Joule from wherever she was hiding.

Once I set the propane barbecue, extra flashlights and batteries, emergency blankets, and other supplies on the workbench, I headed into the house. I’d run out of things I could spend time doing in the garage.

When I closed the door behind me, I stepped into a cloud of cloves, cinnamon, and nutmeg. It was a familiar scent I’d looked forward to each Christmas since I’d started working for Nico nearly twenty years ago. I slowly pulled off my winter gear and tentatively asked, “What are you baking?”

He dipped a cookie on a slotted spoon into a bowl of syrup. “Melomakarona.” He glanced up. “Did I say that right?”

As soon as he placed the syrup-soaked cookie back onto the tray, I strode toward him, wrapped my arm around his waist, and pulled him in for a kiss. I dipped him backward and focused on the eager press of his lips instead of the stinging behind my eyes.

Keaton wobbled when I set him upright. He looked dazed, then cleared his throat. “Well, if that’s the reaction I get when I text Doris for a recipe, I’ll message her for a few more.”

He pulled a cookie off the tray he’d already sprinkled with chopped walnuts, brought it to my mouth, and pushed it in as soon as I opened for him. The soft, syrup-soaked middle was just how I remembered from Nico. I couldn’t believe Keaton had taken a comment I’d made in passing in a grocery store and done something to make me happy.

“Thank you for this,” I said as sincerely as possible.

His smile was warmer than my best work coat. “You’re welcome. How’s it looking outside? Sounds like the wind is picking up.”

Once again, he didn’t push. I never thought I’d meet someone willing to meet me where I was instead of expecting me to change into a different person.

“I think we’ll be good. Probably stuck here for a day or two if it’s as bad as they expect.” I waited to see if he was nervous about that, but it didn’t seem to faze him at all.

Fortunately, there was a guy who lived right in town who usually did commercial work but occasionally took on emergency calls when we couldn’t get through them all. I was grateful he’d offered to take calls if I got stuck or wanted to spend more time with Keaton.I really need to think about hiring someone.

“Darn. How will we fill the time?” He stepped into me and hooked his fingers in my belt loops.

“I can think of an idea or two.” I’d been dying to get him inside of me. Once my ex had decided he wanted to stop topping, I’d stopped bottoming. I hadn’t begrudged him his preferences—everyone deserved to be comfortable with sex—but it was yet another way we’d no longer been compatible.

Keaton stared at me like he wanted to dip me in that syrup and spend the rest of the week slowly licking it off. Then the kitchen timer went off. “Shit. I forgot I was in the middle of baking. Raincheck, beefcake.”

* * *

KEATON

I crossed my legs and leaned back on the palms of my hands, letting the heat from the fire toast my skin while the familiar weight of a moisturizing sheet mask covered my face. I hadn’t expected to be relaxed during a winter storm, but Riggs had quite the setup. When we got the occasional storm back home, Arlo and I cuddled under a pile of blankets while eating cold cereal. Riding out a storm with Riggs was luxurious in comparison.

The wind gusts howled as they blew snow against the windows. There was already an accumulation of several inches of the stuff, but it almost had a movie-set quality. Or maybe that was me being high off a fireplace.

“Is it supposed to burn?” Riggs mumbled next to me from underneath the cheetah print face mask I’d placed on him a minute ago.

“What? No! Take it off!” I reached toward Riggs’s face to yank it off when he caught my wrists, laughing.

“Kidding. It doesn’t burn, but it feels squishy.”

I pushed his shoulder before relaxing again. “Brat. Squishy is normal. When we remove the masks, it leaves behind goop that we rub into our skin.”

“Kinky. Does the goop go with fava beans and a nice Chianti?” He made the famous Hannibal Lecter sound fromSilence of the Lambs.

When I first met Riggs, I never would’ve expected the guy to know what a joke was, let alone be able to make one once in a while. He was dangerous.

Dancing candlelight reflected in his eyes. The home’s battery pack kept electricity going, but I’d suggested the candlelight to make sure it routed to heating to keep that going as long as possible. We’d knocked the temperature down to sixty-two, so it didn’t have to work as hard. He’d promised the solar panels would get us through just fine, but I wanted candlelight for the ambiance, okay? Jeez.

Honestly, I couldn’t believe he’d agreed to my pampering. A part of me worried Riggs would get prickly over having to spend so much time with me, but he’d been his quiet yet snarky self the whole night. I hadn’t picked up any indications that he was suffering through my presence. I supposed it was still too early to tell, but hopefully, he wouldn’t be ready to kick me out by morning.

“How often should you do these?” He picked up an unopened panda mask and read the text on the back.

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