Page 63 of The History Between Us

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Colt Bishop

“Icannot believe I let you talk me into this,” William grumbles beside me as he adjusts the scarf around his neck for the tenth time in the last seven minutes. “It’s freezing out here.”

Chuckling, I nudge him with my elbow. “Oh, would you relax, you big grump.”

“I can’t relax when my body is enduring such freezing temperatures.”

William’s dramatics make me laugh because he’s normally such a put-together man. Apparently, frigid weather is his breaking point. “Well, if you quit your bitchin’, we can hurry up and find a tree, then get some hot cocoa when we’re done.”

Christmas is coming up in a few weeks, and it’s my favorite holiday. Every year, I make it a point to fully decorate my house, both inside and out, and this year will be no exception. With some convincing, a whole lot of puppy dog eyes, and some pretty damn impressive road head—if I do say so myself—I talked William into coming with me to pick outmy Christmas tree. I purposely picked one outside of Copper Lake to avoid the chance of running into anybody who may tattle on us to my parents, which is more than a little inconvenient, but neither of us is ready to take that step yet.

It's been about a month since William and I made up at my parents’ house, and I think I speak for both of us when I say we’ve been enjoying this little bubble we’re in. Not that I think telling my parents will change anything, but I do know it’ll put a damper on things, and I’m just not ready for that yet. I’ve been really busy lately with physical therapy and training, and I’ve been helping out down at the arena where I can. Helping the team get ready for upcoming events or assisting with fundraisers, mentoring a high school rodeo kid; really anything to keep me busy and feel like I’m being productive, so we’ve only been seeing each other a few times a week. But I look forward to every moment I get to spend with him.

It’s how I envision dating like it’s supposed to be… something I have no prior experience with considering everybody in my past has been one, maybe two, nights before I never see them again. Something I didn’t expect myself to enjoy so much. I’d be lying if I said the fact of telling my dad doesn’t hang over my head like a dark cloud, though. When William and I first started fooling around, the idea of my dad finding out didn’t bother me. I don’t know if it’s because I didn’t really see this going anywhere, so telling him seemed like a far-off thing that would never happen, but lately, it’s on my mind constantly. My mom’s words from that day in her kitchen come back to me daily…‘you’re a good man.’Will she still think I’m a good man when all of this comes out? Am I going to disappoint her? Hurt my dad? The thought guts me, but I try to push it out of my mind because at the endof the day, like I told William, we’re two consenting adults. Hopefully, that’s enough. It has to be, because the more time I spend with William, the more I find myself falling for him.

Like right now, for example, when William and I are walking around the tree farm, his heavily gloved hand in mine—another thing I didn’t expect to like so much—as we search for one that I like. Coupley things that seemed so cheesy and mundane to me before, now feel swoony and comforting.

After a while, we find a winner. Actually, we find two winners—one for both of our houses. UnlikeNational Lampoons Christmas Vacation,we do not chop down our own trees here, the staff handles it all for us. After informing us that they’ll have the trees for us up at the front, William and I head toward the area that’s heavily lit with Christmas lights, music playing, and heaters blasting all around.

“Oh, they have apple cinnamon donuts,” I say with much more enthusiasm than I mean to, reading the sign while we wait in line. “You want a couple of those to go with the hot cocoa?”

That seems to perk him up. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Why don’t you go find us a seat near the heaters while I order.”

Reaching for his pocket, he nods. “Okay, let me give you some cash.”

“Put your money away, Frosty.” I chuckle. “This was my idea tonight, so it’s my treat.”

He gives me the same annoyed expression he’s given me every time I offer to pay. I’m coming to realize William is very old-fashioned in that sense, and while it’s endearing, I make more than enough to foot the bill.

Luckily, the line moves pretty quick, and before long, I have our drinks and a white paper bag full of fresh donuts thatsmell way too damn good. By the time I reach William, I’ve already convinced myself that I’ll need to order a dozen more before we leave to eat at home.

“You gonna help me decorate my house, Doc?” I ask, passing him his drink and a donut, along with a napkin. Taking a giant bite out of the cinnamon sugary pastry, I groan because it tastes even better than it smells.

“Do you want me to?” His brow raises.

“Obviously.” I chuckle. “Do you think your dad will like the tree we got for your place?”

Finishing chewing first, he nods and says, “The holidays are hard on my dad since my mom died, but I think he’s going to love it.”

“That makes sense.” My heart aches for Roger. I can’t imagine being with somebody as long as he was with William’s mom, celebrating each holiday every single year, and then one year, they’re gone. It has to feel empty. “Maybe he can come over with you to help decorate my house, and then we can all go to yours to decorate over there. We can play some Christmas music, have some spiked eggnog, and lift his spirits.”

His eyes glisten as he watches me for a moment, a smile spreading across his lips. Leaning in, he runs his tongue along my bottom lip, surprising me. “Had a little sugar,” he explains with a sexy grin before pressing his mouth to mine for a sugary-sweet kiss. “Didn’t take you as the Christmas spirit type,” he says as he pulls back.

“Oh, I’m very serious about it,” I reply in a stern voice that makes William chuckle.

“When do you leave for Vegas?”

“Next Monday,” I reply before bringing the Styrofoam cup up to my mouth and taking a sip of the rich hot cocoa. Nextweek marks the start of National Finals Rodeo, and while I clearly won’t be competing in finals this year, several of my buddies will, and I want to be there for them, so I’ll be flying to Las Vegas, where the event is held.

“How are you feeling about all of that?” William asks.

“I’m excited,” I say, meaning it. “Part of me wondered if I would dread the entire trip because, in all honesty, and not to sound conceited?—”

“You, conceited? Never.”

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