Page 91 of Must Love Christmas

Garen stared at him, feeling hopelessly transparent.

Simon glanced up from his mortaring job. “Did I guess right?”

“Erm…yeah.”

“Sorry, was it meant to be a mystery? I should’ve saved the correct guess for Christmas Eve.”

“That would be a bit patronizing.”

“Only if you knew I already knew.” Simon set down the pastry bag. “I should’ve guessed dust bunnies.”

“Haw now…” Garen said with feigned indignation.

“Like the ones under my bed, since apparently someone never hoovered there while I was in hospital.”

“I’ve never hoovered under a bed in my entire life. Mind, you told me the other day to be myself, which includes my suboptimal housekeeping skills.”

Simon carefully withdrew his wall from between the snow globes. “Okay, I’ll try to forget I ever saw the dust hippopotamuses lurking mere inches from where I sleep.”

“Also try to forget that hippos are amongst the most aggressive and deadly species in the world.”

“Really?”

“I would not lie to you about zoological matters,” Garen said.

“But hippos are so cute. Do they eat people?”

“No, they’re vegetarian. They kill us for sport.”

Simon laughed. “Noted.” He rotated the wall he’d just mortared and pressed it against the short wall, struggling to get it flush. “Come on, steady now…”

“Don’t worry,” Garen said. “A crooked house will look more haunted.”

“I suppose.” But Simon’s gaze was intense and his lips set in a tight line. Clearly he wanted it to be perfect. Garen wondered whether they should make this a practice house and then build a second, official one after this session of trial and error.

When all four walls were up and secure, Garen sat back and looked at the beginnings of their gingerbread house. “It’s smaller than I thought it’d be.”

“This was the pattern I downloaded. The recipe said it was ideal for novices.” Simon rotated the cardboard platform to examine the house from all sides. “It’s more like a gingerbread shed.”

“Well, I think it’s adorable.” Garen pointed to the four other bowls. “What’s the colored royal icing for?”

“That’s not royal icing. It’s just the regular sort.”

“But I thought we weren’t decorating tonight.”

Simon’s mouth curved into a sly smile. “We’re not decorating the house.”

“I don’t follow.”

“We’ve got at least an hour until we can safely put the roof on.” Simon drew his finger through the blue icing, put it in his mouth, then pulled it out slowly, meeting Garen’s eyes. “Whatever shall we do to kill time?”

* * *

“Hold still,”Garen said as he painted a green streak of icing over the curve of Simon’s left pectoral muscle. “You’ll have your turn with me when I’m finished.”

“Can’t hold still. It tickles.” Simon checked again to make sure the towel he was lying on would protect Garen’s bed sheet from the icing, though Garen claimed not to care if things got messy. At least they were both naked, so no clothes would be stained during this adventure. “My obliques will be even more ticklish.”

“‘Obliques.’ Listen to you, knowing all the fancy names for muscles.”

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