Page 35 of Sexted By Santa
“Fynn and his boyfriend, Hugh, will be at the dinner party.”
“And now this is all beginning to make sense,” he said. “Lead me to your immaculately packaged lights, and you can fill me in on what to expect while we do this.”
He stood and started past me. I touched his arm, trying not to notice the tingles that shot through my fingers at the contact. “Thank you, Jaxson. Really.”
Jaxson smiled crookedly. “Hey, what’s a couple of fake dates between neighbors, right? Besides, if it saves me from that mess”—he jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the box of Christmas lights—“it’ll be time well spent.”
10
JAXSON
“Why don’t you stay for dinner?”
Christian paused in the act of tossing tangled cords back into my sad, water-stained, sagging cardboard box. “Here, tonight?”
He looked surprised, but then why wouldn’t he? We were hardly friends, and he’d already spent the afternoon helping me string lights along the front of the house and around the sad little red maple tree that looked naked without its vibrant red leaves of spring. But I wasn’t ready for him to leave.
I wasn’t sure of the reason. Maybe I just longed for more adult conversation. Outside of work, I got very little social interaction. Or maybe it was the frankly admiring gaze he’d leveled at me while I was on that ladder. Or the easy, almost flirty banter—once we got past the friction of our past, anyway. Even that awkward conversation had been encouraging. Christian and I might not have always seen eye to eye, but he hadn’t judged me as harshly as I’d always believed.
Whatever the reason, I felt compelled to get to know him better.
“Tori and I always have a big Sunday dinner,” I said. “I’ve got a roast in the slow cooker.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“You wouldn’t—”
“Sir Elton John needs me,” he blurted.
I blinked, confused. “He…does?”
Christian nodded eagerly. “He’s a total diva, and he’ll be angry if I keep dinner waiting.”
“Uh-huh.” At work, I interacted with my fair share of confused patients. Some had dementia; some simply struggled with a failing memory. Christian was too young for that, too sharp. But his words didn’t make any sense. “Do you feel okay? Maybe you need to hydrate.”
“I’m fine. But Sir Elton is an impatient little guy, so I better go.”
“I really think you should come inside,” I said. “I’ll get you a glass of water. Are you on any medications that might have side effects?”
“What?” Christian looked baffled. “No, Jaxson. Why are you trying to nurse me?”
“I’m just concerned. You mentioned Elton John, as if you personally knew him. As if you have a dinner date with a celebrity.”
His eyes widened. “You think I’m confused or delusional?”
I was doubting it based on his response now. “Well, that or you’rereallybad at making an excuse to avoid staying for dinner with us.”
He barked a laugh. “Well, that may be true, but I didn’t mean therealElton John. My dog, Sir Elton John. Well, Fynn’s dog, really. But he left the little terror behind, so I have to take care of him.”
“Oh.”
“I know I’m older than you, Jaxson, but I’m notthatold. I still have all my mental faculties.”
I winced. “I know that.”
Christian started to turn away. I couldn’t let our day end on that note. I grasped his hand, squeezing once. “Wait, Christian.”
He looked at me warily.
