A Holiday Tradition

by Chrissy Munder

  Paul tilted his borrowed cap off his forehead, pleased to find some saner individuals like him wearing shorts and T-shirts down by the water’s edge.

  Kevin opened the door and, rather than letting Paul out, held up a black plastic trash bag.

  “What’s that for?” Paul asked.

  “Give me your feet, gimpy.”

  Paul swung himself around, his legs dangling off the side of the seat. Kevin fit the bag over Paul’s foot and cast to his thigh.

  “Hold this,” he commanded while he grabbed a roll of duct tape from the glove box. A few quick rips and he had Paul’s cast sealed inside the bag like Paul did before he showered. Apparently satisfied, he pulled off Paul’s lone tennis shoe and tossed it onto the driver’s seat. “Just in case.”

  “In case what?” Paul resisted the urge to lean in to Kevin’s touch. “I can’t do sand with these crutches.”

  “Anyone ever tell you you spend a whole lot of time focusing on what you can’t do?” Kevin used the seconds Paul took to process his question to reach in and, with one arm behind Paul’s back and the other under his knees, pull him out of the truck in a bridal carry. Without waiting for Paul’s answer, Kevin hefted him aloft.

  “Hey,” Paul squawked, the bottom dropping out of his stomach in a roller-coaster-like freefall. He wrapped his arms around Kevin’s neck despite the truthful sting in Kevin’s statement. “What about my crutches?”

  “Why do you need them when you have me?” Kevin swung Paul out in front of him and used his hip to close the truck’s door. “Ready for some Florida fun?”

  “Oh my God,” Paul yelped and held on to Kevin with everything he had. The heat from Kevin’s body warmed him even more than his embarrassed flush. “Put me down!”

  Instead of listening, Kevin marched them across the sand, handling Paul’s weight, cast and all, with ease. He stopped at the outer reach of the waves and slid Paul down until their chests pressed together.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.” His voice seemed rougher than usual, husky against Paul’s suddenly sensitized skin.

  “You’re crazy,” Paul half laughed, half breathed as his foot dangled into the surprisingly warm water. He’d expected much cooler temperatures, but he’d use this for bathwater compared to Lake Superior in September.

  With Kevin’s support, Paul drug his toe through the rocks and crushed shell that made up the beach instead of the sugary white sand of the Great Lakes. “I wish I could go swimming.”

  “Want to know how to spot a tourist?” Kevin asked.

  “I’m sure you’ll tell me.” Paul didn’t trust Kevin’s innocent expression for an instant.

  Kevin affected a pretentious accent. “The northern snowbird is immediately recognizable from its southern brethren, with distinct differences in both apparel and behavior.” He tightened his arm around Paul and pointed to their right with the other.

  A group of teens dashed in and out of the waves. Their tanned chests contrasted with the older adults, who waited with towels and jackets.

  “No true Floridian would turn themselves into an icicle by swimming in December.” Kevin wrapped both arms back around Paul’s waist, his grip tighter this time and pulling them closer together. His muscular chest brushed against Paul’s, his heart beating strong and steady, as dependable as Kevin himself.

  Paul licked his lips, inhaling sharply as Kevin’s gaze followed the swipe of his tongue with an intensity Paul hadn’t seen before. Their eyes met, and he touched Kevin’s cheek, brushing his fingers across the afternoon stubble. The beach, endless horizon and all, narrowed into nothing more than the pause between one breath and another.

  Kevin tightened his grip for one painful second, as if he dared even the force of the waves to rip Paul out of his arms. Then, treating Paul like he was the most precious thing Kevin had ever held, he softened. He brushed his lips over Paul’s, gentle until Paul kissed him back and then crushing with a passion that hid nothing.

  Paul trembled. He’d admit it. He sagged into Kevin’s cradling arms with the sure knowledge this moment was what he had wanted from the very first time he saw Kevin.

  His phone vibrated.

  Kevin stilled. A rueful smile curved lips that mere seconds before had been breathing life into Paul. “I guess we should be getting back.” He dropped his arms and, while he still supported Paul in the uneven sand, increased the distance between them. Outwardly calm, his frost-pale eyes glittered with the intensity of a winter squall.

  “Yeah.” Paul fought to catch his breath, searching for a composure he could paste over the gaps Kevin’s kiss had ripped into the very fabric of his being. His voice shook when he echoed Kevin’s words. “I guess we should.”

  PAUL TILTED his head from one side to the other, hoping to release the bands of tightening tension. His day had been crazy busy, starting with a trip to town with Grandpa Louie. They checked in at the doctor’s office recommended by his physician in Michigan. His leg was healing well, and he could look forward to the cast coming off on schedule. After a quick lunch, they separated for some long-delayed Christmas shopping.

  Which, Paul had to admit, was the same holiday nightmare he went through back home. There may not have been any snow on the ground, but the inside of the shopping center was filled with the same fever-pitched chaos of any other this late in the season.

  He picked up a few things for Grandpa Louie, thankful he had used the online shop-and-ship option for a couple of friends back home. He failed to find anything for Kevin.

  Now it was after dinner, his head wouldn’t stop pounding, and his father was waiting for an update. The class deadline was almost here, and Paul hadn’t produced anything viable since his trip to the beach with Kevin.

  And the kiss.

  Paul touched his lips, reliving the moment. The drive back to the park had been the most comfortable and, conversely, the most awkward half hour in his life. Irreversible and delineating. His life before the kiss. His life after.

  It was the after that troubled him now. Did Kevin want a holiday fling? Paul drummed his fingers against the desk. What else could it be? He had a life to get back to. His degree. His future.

  The often-repeated refrain had lost its appeal, not that it ever had any. Paul sagged into the chair, letting his head drop back to stare at the ceiling. This trip, unexpected and unwanted, had changed everything. Here he was, surrounded by people at what some might consider the twilight of their lives, and most of them, whether in fair health or poor, appeared happier than he was.

  The things Paul had been persuaded were important and would give his life meaning and structure didn’t apply. Life here wasn’t about getting ahead or even getting by. It was about finding peace in your values, priorities, and enjoying the company of those around you.

  What gave him peace? Fulfillment? Was he proud of his accomplishments so far? Paul thought back over the last three years of college. The only time he had truly felt alive and excited was when his instructor told him his art had won a place in the exhibit.

  How did that turn out? the tiny voice inside Paul’s head, the one that sounded suspiciously like his father, snipped.

  Paul looked around Kevin’s office. He used the space more than Kevin did, despite the message from the repair shop telling him the laptop was fixed. The furnishings reflected Kevin’s personality. Nothing fancy or expensive, but enough.

  There weren’t any plaques on the wall, nothing to show how charitable he was or how valuable he was to the community. That was all shown by the attitudes of the residents in his park and the genuine pleasure in their interactions. The family he created for those who didn’t have anyone else.

  As if conjured by Paul’s thoughts, the front door opened, and Kevin strode in. He didn’t look any different than usual, but Paul studied him with new eyes as he approached the inner office with purpose evident in every line of his body.

  Paul’s father always cautioned him his actions would speak louder than his words. What h
ad Kevin’s actions been showing him?

  Kevin stopped in front of the desk, and they stared at each other. Kevin’s hair was a tousled mess, as if he’d run his hands through it again and again.

  “Kevin—”

  Kevin held up his hand. “I’ve only got the nerve to say this once.” He sucked in a breath and leaned over the monitor, hands on the desk to support him as he gazed directly into Paul’s face, close enough for Paul to pick up the tiny flecks of gold and blue in his eyes. “I know this seems fast, and we haven’t known each other very long, but we’re good together.”

  The corner of his mouth tilted upward in a lopsided smile Paul hadn’t yet seen. “Damn good. I don’t have this all figured out, and I don’t care. You want to finish school? There are schools here. You don’t? I’m good with that too. I just can’t let you walk out of my life unless that’s what’s going to make you happy.”

  Paul swallowed. There it was again, that jumped-out-of-an-airplane-without-a-parachute feeling. Damn it, Kevin. He folded his shaking hands together. “What’s going to make you happy?” he asked, his voice pitched low enough that Kevin had to lean in even farther.

  “Easy.” Kevin closed the final few inches that separated them, his chest brushing the top of the monitor. “My answer is… you.”

  The press of his lips was a barely there promise. Before Paul could take a breath, Kevin had spun on his heels and disappeared out the door again.

  The choice. The power. Kevin’s future. He left everything in Paul’s hands. Trusting him to make the right decision.

  Paul pressed his knuckles against his mouth. “Damn you, Kevin Lombardo,” he whispered before dropping his trembling hand on top of the pile of folders.

  His phone chimed. His father’s text alert was far more stinging than any words ever could be and a reminder of all that was at stake.

  Paul blinked the moisture out of his eyes and squared his shoulders. He put his hands on the keyboard and began to type.

  Chapter 9

  One year later

  “YOU’RE COMING to the parade this afternoon, right?” Grandpa Louie waved the Santa hat in his hand at Paul. He stood in Paul’s kitchen, dressed to the nines in a red-patterned Hawaiian shirt, green pants, and—Paul winced—white patent leather loafers.

  The combination was set off by the bright red of another Santa hat on his head, the bobbing white ball on the pointy end a match to the beard he’d cultivated for the last year under the encouraging eyes of Inga Cartwright.

  Grandpa Louie had made parade Santa this year despite Eloise Bonassarro’s loud and continuing complaints of favoritism. Paul couldn’t be prouder. Well… he looked at the poster prominently displayed on their refrigerator for this year’s parade, which featured his newly accredited graphic design skills. He could.

  “I promised I’d be there.” Paul put the last glass into the dishwasher and shut the door. He’d have to remind Kevin they needed more detergent, but he’d get to that later. “You know I have to pick Dad up from the airport this morning.”

  “It’s about time he got himself down here to visit.” Grandpa Louie sniffed. “He was a fine husband to my daughter, and I’ll always think kindly of him for that. But I’ve more than a few words on how he’s treated you.”

  “He’s trying.” Paul squeezed Grandpa Louie’s shoulder, appreciating everything he had done for him in the last year. The health scare Grandpa Louie had mentioned to Paul last Christmas turned out to be a bigger deal than he let on, and Paul was grateful for the opportunity to spend another holiday together.

  Trading in the RV and becoming a full-time resident of the park was only the start of the changes Grandpa Louie made, and he wasn’t alone.

  Kevin stumbled out of the bedroom, interrupting Paul’s sentimental musing. He shuffled over and wrapped his arms around Paul’s waist, dropping his head on Paul’s shoulder and nuzzling his hello while he tried to snag Paul’s coffee cup.

  “Ooof.” Paul huffed out a burst of air when Kevin’s weight collapsed on him. He held his coffee out to the side. “Somebody’s been gaining weight.”

  “I’m fat and happy.” Kevin kissed the side of Paul’s neck and squeezed him tighter. “But I’d be happier with your coffee.”

  Paul stroked Kevin’s dark curls, sculpting the truly impressive display of bedhead into a fauxhawk. “Don’t go back to sleep,” he cautioned with a gentle poke to Kevin’s side.

  Kevin’s sleepy squeal of protest left Paul amazed, all over again, at the swell of emotion Kevin inspired in him. Most of it was good too. “Are you going to be ready to leave in half an hour?”

  “Yes?” Kevin’s muffled response didn’t carry the confidence Paul had become used to.

  “You’ll be fine.” Paul nudged Kevin toward the coffeepot. “Caffeinate. Shower. Dress. I have faith, no matter how misplaced.”

  Grandpa Louie cackled at Paul’s dig, earning himself a scowl from Kevin. “There comes a time in every relationship when you have to meet the parents. Today is your day.” He gave Kevin a sympathetic pat as he shuffled past. “Paul’s father isn’t as much of a dick as he tries to be.”

  “Grandpa.” Paul tried not to let his grandfather catch his smile.

  “Thanks, Louie.” Kevin straightened with another yawn.

  “I’m just happy you two finally got it together. I’ll never understand how the modern generation takes something so simple and makes it so hard.” Grandpa Louie shook his head. “You know, it’s not—”

  “—the things I did that I regret. It’s all the things I didn’t,” Paul and Kevin finished the statement in tandem chorus.

  “Damn straight.” Grandpa Louie nodded his satisfaction.

  Paul finished his coffee, watching Grandpa Louie chat with Kevin about the upcoming parade. He smiled, a warm and fuzzy glow of satisfaction welling up within. This was his family.

  It hadn’t been easy getting here, trust him on that. Long-distance relationships sucked. Standing up for his own desires and letting his father know that, while he loved and admired him, Paul was the one living this life, had sucked even more. But he didn’t regret a second of it.

  With Kevin’s help, he’d been able to look at his relationship with his father with new eyes, understanding the fear and loss that drove him to become overprotective and controlling. Their relationship was tense for a while, but Paul finishing his degree in finance before moving to Florida helped his father accept, if not approve of, his decision. This holiday would be a fresh start for them all, a way to honor existing traditions and make new ones going forward.

  “Are you listening, Paul?” Grandpa Louie’s voice caught his attention.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Paul shook his head, bringing himself back to the here and now.

  “He asked if we were sure we’d make it back in time for the parade,” Kevin repeated. “I told him of course we would.” Kevin snatched the extra Santa hat off the counter where Grandpa Louie had placed it, dropped it onto Paul’s head, and gave him a quick coffee-scented peck on the cheek. “It’s our very first holiday tradition.”

  CHRISSY MUNDER writes contemporary M/M romance filled with everyday men and extraordinary passion to transport readers into their personal world of love, laughter, and desire. She is an avid reader, a wanderer of Michigan’s wilderness, and, not in any particular order, a lover of lists, zombies, and bad sci-fi. She’s also perpetually behind on everything—except for feeding the cat.

  There are those who might tell you she started writing LGBTQ romance as a way to justify her office supply addiction, but shhhhh! don’t listen to them.

  After too many jobs in too many states, she’s eagerly awaiting a far-too-distant retirement and the chance to become a full-time Lake Michigan beachcomber. Until then, she’s excited to share her love of romance, laughter, and happy-ever-afters.

  Chrissy loves to chat with her readers, so don’t be shy! Find, friend, or follow her at a variety of social media sites including:

  Website: chr
issymunder.com

  Twitter @ChrissyMunder

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  Do you love holiday romance as much as Chrissy? Join the Chrissy Munder Holiday Collection Club to receive special updates and sneak peeks at upcoming work. Click this link or cut and paste in your browser to join: http://eepurl.com/dEXS8D

  By Chrissy Munder

  After the Storm

  Better with Sprinkles

  Business Before Pleasure

  Drive Me Home

  Fair Winds

  A Holiday Tradition

  The Last Gift

  The One That Counts

  The Reason for the Season

  Start From the Beginning

  Wishing on a Blue Star Anthology

  Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS

  www.dreamspinnerpress.com

  Published by

  DREAMSPINNER PRESS

  5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA

  www.dreamspinnerpress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  A Holiday Tradition

  © 2018 Chrissy Munder.

  Cover Art

  © 2018 Brooke Albrecht.

  http://brookealbrechtstudio.com

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.