Christmas Tales Read online

  Not only am I always prepared, I’m also somewhat of a miser with my money. Although, that’s more necessity than anything else.

  If I had splurged, the events after the ill-fated snowmobile disaster might have gone differently.

  They might have gone like this:

  I would have offered Logan my sleeping bag, as I am a gentleman and had enough layers of clothes to not really need it. Now that we were out of the snow, it wasn’t really that cold. And with the heat Logan’s body seemed to be generating, the four-person tent was sufficiently warm. We would have exchanged pleasantries before crawling to our sides of the tent. I would have lain on my lonely portion of tent, doing my best to not think of the fucking hot lumberjack of a man a few feet from me. Unsuccessfully trying to keep the thoughts from affecting my body, and I would probably have to turn on my side, facing away from him to keep from being noticed. There are certain things even three layers of clothes can’t hide. At some point, I would offer him another granola bar. As I’ve said, I’m a gentleman. And there would have been no ulterior meaning behind “granola bar.” And, if perchance I had meant the offer of a food ration as a double entendre, Logan would have been none the wiser, as he would have already been asleep on his side of the divide. I would have hosted the annual Gay Boy Christmas Dinner with blue balls.

  That might have happened if I had given in to my desire to splurge on the fancy, outdoorsman-style tent.

  Regrettably, my penny pinching ways ensured that version of the story couldn’t take place.

  Therefore, despite the slender size of my skinny-fat frame, the small tent, due to Logan’s more than one sit-up a day frame, offered just enough room for us to lie side by side, with no space between us or the walls of the tent.

  Now that we were out of the snow, it wasn’t really that cold. And with the heat Logan’s body seemed to be generating, within three minutes the one-person tent was so warm, it almost made it hard to breath.

  “It’s kinda stuffy in here. Are you really going to sleep with all those layers on?”

  My math skills kicked in at Logan’s suggestion. If I took off two layers of upper clothing and put them over my lap, that would be five layers. Surely five layers could hide Logan’s effect on my body.

  “Good idea.” I slipped out of my jacket, pulled my sweater over my head, arranging both of them like a blanket over my lap before I lay back down.

  Had Logan moved closer?

  “Are those reindeer on your long johns?”

  I glanced down at my chest. I’d forgotten. Shit. “I really like Christmas.”

  He chuckled. Though the sound didn’t seem mocking. “So do I.”

  There was only one way this would turn out if I kept looking at Logan like he was a big hunk of man sex lying next me. Though I’d decided, based on the evidence thus far, that Logan, if straight, wasn’t entirely so, I also know what number I am. Logan was all ten. He actually would score higher, but I really hate when people use a one to ten scale and then say something is an eleven. It’s just stupid. So, Logan was a ten. I, and there’s no ironic self-deprecation involved, am a five. I’ve done the math here as well. My face is a solid seven. My non-sit-up body a solid three, on a good day. Ergo, Paxton Peterson is a five. A five and a ten do not add up to sexy time. They just don’t. Again, it’s simple math. Consequently, to get through the night, I had to change my mind’s view of Logan from sex god to human. Find his humanity, not his sexuality.

  “So, what brings you out in the woods on Christmas Eve? Most people spend it with their… families.” I’d almost said wives. But that would be fishing and achieve the opposite of what was needed.

  “I spend about five days of Christmas vacation with my brother and his family. Tonight they went down to Longmont to visit our aunt in the nursing home. Now that our folks are gone, she’s the matriarch of the family.”

  “You didn’t want to go?”

  He hesitated, it was the first time he’d seemed anything less than confident. “I uh, made a decision this year. It may be narrow-minded, but I decided that I’m no longer having people in my life who think of me as an abomination, so I chose not to go with them.”

  Well that answered that question. And here we were, back to his sexuality. “Ah, homophobic aunt, huh?”

  He let out a snort that said much more than words. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  A thought hit me, one I was surprised had taken this long to come. “Won’t your brother come looking for you when they get home tonight?”

  He shook his head. “Nah. They know I go to bed early. They’ll just assume I’m asleep, and I for sure didn’t ask to borrow his new toy. It’s going to cost me a month’s paycheck to fix that fucking snowmobile, I bet. They won’t notice I’m not there until I don’t show up for Christmas breakfast, but I bet we’ll be back by then anyway.”

  I really wanted to go back to the confirmation of his gayness, but I pride myself on being prepared, frugal, and self-controlled. While Logan was becoming more human, he was becoming more of a gay human. Unhelpful. And it still didn’t alter the equation of five not equaling a ten. Maybe if there was two of me….

  Work. The great equalizer and king of all small talk. “So, what do you do that you have to go to bed early and that you get a Christmas vacation.”

  “I’m a teacher. And I like to work out before school, so I wake up around four-thirty every day.”

  Teacher. Didn’t see that coming. Cowboy. Mechanic. Model for cigarette companies, sure. “Do you teach shop or something? Coach?”

  “No. Kindergarten.”

  What the holy fucking fuck? A gay guy who’s a ten and teaches kindergarten?

  Now my body and my heart both had a hard-on.

  If he said he rescued abused puppies, I would be done for.

  “Any pets?”

  His brows knitted in confusion. Apparently I had slipped into twenty questions.

  “I actually just lost my dog a few weeks ago. He’d been sick for a while.”

  Hot, tenderhearted, and needing comfort. This actually could be an equation where a ten and a five added up to an unusual mathematical solution, for a little while at least.

  Dear God, save me.

  It was Logan who saved me instead. “And you? Your family won’t miss you?”

  Thank you, Lord Logan! If anything could make an erection deflate, it would be my family. “Similar to your aunt. A bunch of Bible beaters, and not the nice kind. So, no. Christmas is not a family thing any longer.”

  The hurt on his face was truly genuine, and oddly comforting. Maybe an eleven on the ten-point scale wasn’t so stupid. “Oh, jeez, that’s horrible. At least my aunt’s the only homophobic nut job.” His brown eyes met mine, and the corners crinkled into a smile. “You can spend Christmas with us. My brother and his wife won’t mind. Plus, he’s less likely to murder me over the snowmobile if there’s a witness.”

  In my experience, most men who looked like this one didn’t act like this. At least not to me. Logan had to be some type of Christmas miracle. Or a delusion.

  Maybe I had gotten run over by the snowmobile and I was unconscious from a blow to the head from a recently fallen spruce. I could be dying under the accumulating snow at this very minute, dreaming of a man who was as sweet as he was hot.

  Ah, whatever. There are worse ways to go.

  “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” I cleared my throat, suddenly caught with emotion. “Christmas is better now than it used to be actually. Every Christmas evening, I have my Gay Boy Christmas Dinner. A bunch of my closest friends come over. It used to be just the ones of us who had families like mine, and we’d do it Christmas morning. But then, our friends with families like yours wanted to join, so we moved it to evening so they could come over after their families. It’s pretty great. A huge dinner, I’m a really good cook.” I patted my lack of a six-pack. “And we do the Horny Elf Exchange, which is always a ton of fun. There’s a lot of laughter and love there. It’s my favor
ite night of the year, actually. While everything is prepped, I need to spend the morning finishing the cooking and such. Thank you for the offer to be with your family, though.” And I so wanted to invite him in return.

  “What’s a Horny Elf Exchange?” There was the sound of a laugh in his voice.

  “Oh, right. I forget not everyone knows about it. It’s the same thing as a white elephant exchange. Except, we each bring the sluttiest, dirtiest, or most profane Christmas item we can find. We try to outdo each other, of course. I think I’ll win this year. I found this dildo shaped like Ms. Clause. She lights up in flashing green and red, and plays ‘O Holy Night’ as she vibrates.”

  Logan did laugh then, and gave me an unreadable expression.

  “What?”

  He shrugged, and this time I was distracted by the mass of his shoulders. “I just didn’t expect that. You seem so straitlaced. I would have pegged you for a wine exchange or something. Not who can find the best dildo or whatever.”

  My cheeks heated. “Yeah. Not the classiest thing I guess. Probably offensive to most people.”

  His grin was brilliant. “I love it. I would love to see that in action.”

  “Well, you’re more than welcome to join of course. It’s not till five, so if your brother doesn’t murder you, you can show. I’ve made extra food and have a spare Horny Elf gift, so you wouldn’t need to worry.”

  “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me? Mr. Boy Scout.”

  I could swear there was a huskiness in his tone at the use of the nickname. I’d never not hated being called a Boy Scout before.

  “Are you a teacher? The job would be a lot easier if I were as planned out as you. I tend to fly by the seat of my pants.”

  “No. I make candles. I have a shop in part of my house.”

  “Seriously? You make candles? That actually pays something?”

  “Well, I live in a mountain town. It gives the tourists something to buy besides T-shirts.” I was always somewhat defensive about my career choice. “And they’re great candles. Each hand poured, smokeless, environmentally friendly, they glow more than any candle you’ll buy anywhere else—”

  Logan put a hand on my chest, cutting me off. “Whoa, Paxton. I wasn’t judging. Just surprised. I like the different sides of you. All anal retentive and a dirty elf-loving artisan. Good stuff.”

  It was the first time he’d said my name, and it sounded even better than the nickname. I glanced down at his large hand, warm on my chest. Surely he felt my heart begin to speed to a pounding tempo. His breath was warm on my cheek, and I looked back at his face, so much closer now. Close enough to see red mixed in to the blond of his stubble.

  “This okay?”

  His whisper negated any attempt the five layers over my lap had to hide his effect on me. I nodded.

  Logan closed what little distance there was and pressed his partly open lips on mine.

  A groan escaped, causing me to accidently breathe into his mouth.

  Instead of pulling back, Logan increased the pressure. His body shifted a little, the curve of his heavy chest muscles pressing against my arm. His lips were soft and warm, and pleasantly dry. His tongue darted into my mouth, slightly touching my own before he pulled back once more.

  “Still okay, Paxton? I know you’re a planner. Don’t wanna freak you out.” There was definitely teasing behind his voice, but also genuine care, which made it so much better.

  I nodded, unable to speak. I never would have planned on this in a million years. It wasn’t possible, and it, for certain, meant I was freezing to death buried under a foot of snow and having the best dream of my life as I faded away.

  And there would be no complaining from me.

  Then a thought hit me, and I let out a nearly agonized groan.

  Logan pulled further back, looking wary. “What? I’m sorry if I misread—”

  “No. It’s not that.” There was definitely a whine in my tone. I motioned toward my backpack that had been shoved down toward our feet. “I’m not as prepared as you think. I didn’t dream of this happening. I’m not exactly equipped to do this safely.”

  It took him a second to understand my meaning, then his grin returned, and he leaned back in, his voice all heat and sex. “That’s okay. There’s plenty of other things I’d like to do to you, and if we stall out, we can always channel the spirit of your Horny Elf gifts.” He leaned down and kissed me again.

  Maybe I was afraid Logan would come to his senses or that I’d freeze to death out in the snow before this delusion came to an end, but whatever it was, I pushed him away lightly.

  Hurt crossed his face.

  I moved to a seated position before he could respond. “Sorry, I’ve been dying to do this all night.” I reached out and undid the three buttons at the top of his waffle shirt. “Please take that off.”

  His smile returned, but was blocked from view as he pulled the shirt over his head.

  Again I groaned. Pathetic or not. “Holy shit.”

  I was dying. No doubt. Buried under the snow by the recently fallen spruce. And it was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

  I reached out and smoothed my fingers over the rust-hued chest hair that covered the rock-solid planes of his chest and stomach.

  “You do sit-ups, huh?”

  He laughed, then pushed his lips on mine once more, his hands moving expertly at the fastenings of my layers of clothes.

  * * *

  Who knows how much time passed before either of us spoke again. At some point, Logan looked up from where he’d been repaying my anatomy for being restrained for so long. His lips were glistening and swollen in the cliché porn star way. And his voice made me groan again. “Merry Christmas, Paxton.”

  * * *

  “You sure you don’t want to come in? We’ll have breakfast ready within the hour.”

  I glanced over Logan’s shoulder at his brother’s charming log cabin.

  Though what little sleep I’d gotten had been spent wrapped in Logan’s massive arms, I’d woken in a state of melancholy.

  I’d realized that there’d been a bit of Christmas Eve magic intermingled in the snowfall last night. It was the only explanation of how a ten and a five could add up to the explosive equation we’d solved. And while there wasn’t a minute I would change, it hurt a bit to think it was a one-time deal.

  Sure, Logan was offering to have me spend Christmas morning with his family. That would be easy to read into. A lovely fantasy to allow myself to get lost in for another hour or so. However, it was obvious Logan was simply being nice. He’d demonstrated that quality in spades that morning as he helped pack up the tent and assisted me in walking the remaining distance to my Jeep, even though my ankle wasn’t hurt nearly as badly as it had seemed the few hours before.

  If I let the fantasy continue, it would only hurt and wipe away what magic there had been for a little while.

  “No, I need to get back to my place. I’d be behind in the remaining preparations for the party tonight if I hung around.”

  I swear he looked disappointed.

  “Well, I think that was my favorite Christmas Eve of all time, Paxton. Thank you.” Logan opened the passenger door and slipped out of the Jeep, then turned back to look at me once more. “I can only imagine the Horny Elf gifts that will show up tonight.”

  My heart ached a little as he shut the door and moved to step away.

  A flash of what would happen if Logan simply walked into his brother’s house and I drove away to check off all the lists I had waiting tore through my mind.

  Nothing. Nothing would happen.

  But what if…?

  What if there was a chance.

  Sure, more than likely, nothing would still happen.

  But what if…?

  I rolled down the passenger window, leaning across the middle console. “Hey, Logan.”

  He turned back, a smile playing on his lips. “Yeah?”

  I rifled through the drop drawer, pulled out a
rectangular piece of cardstock, and extended it to him. “Here. This is my business card. It has my address on it. You’re more than welcome to see what Horny Elf gifts show up in person if you like.”

  Logan took it, glancing at the card. He started to answer, but I cut him off, not wanting to hear the reasons he might use to decline.

  “No pressure. Just if you get a little stir crazy and need to get out for a bit. It’s not like you can go play on the snowmobile.” I started to roll up the window, suddenly embarrassed and regretting my display of neediness. I put the Jeep in gear and began to drive away before the window finished closing. “Either way, have a Merry Christmas!”

  Logan called out something, probably wishing me a Merry Christmas in return, but I kept going.

  * * *

  For the first time in my life, I found myself wishing that I’d not checked off quite as much from the to-do lists the day before. I’d left myself a maximum of two hours of work in order to be ready by five.

  The night before kept replaying on a continuous loop in my mind. The beauty of Logan’s naked body, ridiculously perfect. The rugged masculinity that had captivated me so completely the night before now taunted me. If only it had been Logan’s looks that were perfect, if it only had ended there. But he was kindergarten teacher, kind, sarcastic, affectionate. Too good to be real. Like it had all been a giant joke. A once in a lifetime experience that I could never attain again.

  It was a mix of pleasurable fantasy and annoying ache. I hadn’t felt this level of insecurity since high school. I was disgusted with myself. Which only made it worse.

  I ended up repeating many of the jobs on the lists that I’d done the day before. I scrubbed the grout between the shower tiles with a toothbrush, which was even more type A than normal. Still Logan refused to be driven from my mind.

  Pathetically, I kept checking my cell. My business card had my number on it, after all.