Gay Romance Holiday Collection

by Keira Andrews

  “Oh! Nick.” She smiled. “Huh. I haven’t heard that name in years.”

  His heart skipped. “You know him?”

  “No, not really. I worked with his partner, though. Dr. McKinnon. Eric.” Her smile went sad and distant. “Such a lovely man. Always had a smile for you even after a double shift. It was incredibly tragic, what happened.”

  Hunter toyed with his spoon, his chest tightening. “What happened?”

  She stared off into the distance. “A boy fell through the ice on Swiss Lake, and Eric was driving by. He stopped and tried to save him, of course. Called 911 before he went onto the lake, but more of the ice gave way, and the water was just too cold. They’d both drowned by the time police arrived.”

  “Wow.” So Nick was indeed gay or bi or whatever, but Hunter couldn’t feel happy about it after hearing that.

  “Nick was devastated, as you can imagine. He disappeared, more or less. I actually forgot about him.” Tears glistened in her eyes, and she shook her head, focusing on Hunter again. “Isn’t that sad?”

  “It’s not your fault. When did it happen?”

  She swiped at her eyes. “Let me think.” After a few moments, she said, “Must be seven or eight years ago now. Yes, eight, I think.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “Poor Nick. How could I have not thought of him at all in so long?”

  “From what I gather, he’s kind of a hermit out there with his trees?” Hunter slid closer on the couch, putting his arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay. Please don’t cry.”

  Sniffing loudly, she half-laughed. “Oh, don’t mind me. I swear, these hormones are making me an emotional wreck these days. Peri-menopause needs to shove it. Hard.”

  Laughing, he kissed her cheek and inhaled the fresh scent of her herbal shampoo. “Those hormones don’t know who they’re messing with.” He paused, then added, “I love you, Mom.”

  “Well, aren’t we just a couple of saps tonight? Thank you, honey. You know I love you too.” She patted his knee. “And I’m so glad to hear you’ll be spending time with Nick.”

  “Yeah. Hopefully it’ll be okay? He’s not much of a people person, I guess. But John got him to fill in as Santa, and he was actually really sweet with the kids.” It had been incredibly sexy seeing him listening to the kids like their requests were all he cared about when Hunter knew he was probably bored shitless. “He said to come tomorrow since he needed today to be alone. You’re sure it’s cool for me to take the car on your day off?”

  “Yep. I’m doing nothing tomorrow but reading my romance and relaxing. The duke is about to realize that the new stable boy is actually a young woman on the run from a dastardly viscount.”

  “Ohh, the plot thickens. Has he been confusingly attracted to this stable boy?”

  She laughed. “Indeed he has.”

  “Good times.”

  “How about another glass of wine while we finish our dinner? Which is delicious, by the way. And don’t say it was easy and shrug off the compliment. It’s delicious. Thank you for making it. Now go get me more wine.”

  Hunter grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He poured himself another glass too since it was still early. Later that night, he was going to set three alarms and make sure he was at Nick’s bright and early and ready to impress. And he was totally going to jerk off to fantasies of sitting on Nick’s lap and being very, very naughty.

  “No, no, no!”

  The tires couldn’t grip the hidden patch of ice, and as the road curved, there was nothing Hunter could do but cling to the steering wheel and brace as he slid into the ditch.

  His heart pounded in his ears as he jolted to a stop, the car now tilted alarmingly, passenger side down and lodged deep in a snowdrift. The seat belt dug into the side of his neck. For a few frantic breaths, he didn’t move. At least the airbag hadn’t gone off and punched him in the face.

  An old Bryan Adams song about Christmastime blared from the radio, and Hunter jabbed it off with a trembling finger, muttering, “Yeah, not so much magic in the air right now. But I’m okay.” His voice was thin and unconvincing. He moved his limbs, and nothing seemed broken. He might have a few bruises from the seat belt, but nothing major.

  “I’m okay,” he repeated. And now he was stuck in a ditch in the middle of nowhere, and he was going to be late. “Fucking fuck!” He pounded the steering wheel, his leather gloves muffling the blows.

  It was still dark, and he’d never been on the route that led to Nick’s farm. The headlights illuminated more snow falling amid the shadowy trees looming around him, the narrow road curving out of sight. In the rear view, the high snow bank he was stuck in glowed a ghostly red above his taillights, only a void beyond. He panted harshly, twitching with the lingering adrenaline spiking through him.

  Driving out toward Nick’s, he hadn’t even seen another vehicle in the last half an hour. He’d turned off the paved county road at least fifteen minutes ago, and Nick’s driveway, which seemed pretty long on Hunter’s navigation app, should have been within a couple kilometers. He grabbed his phone from the holder attached to the dashboard and blinked at the screen, the red band at the top sending a bolt of icy panic through him.

  Searching for signal

  “No! You have to have a signal!” He shook the phone, as if that would help somehow. “Fuck!” Gripping the phone, he closed his eyes, trying to breathe.

  He was leaning down to the right, and if not for the seat belt holding him in place, he would have crashed into the passenger side when the car had slid into the ditch. But maybe if he gunned the engine, he’d be able to drive up and out? Highly unlikely, but he had to try.

  “Okay. Come on, Jacques. You can do it.” His mom had ironically named her car after an old Canadian racecar driver, and Hunter called on every spirit of Christmas and racecar drivers and justice in the universe as he eased on the accelerator, letting the tires grip before he gave it more gas.

  The car shuddered and moved about an inch, the engine revving and the tires spinning uselessly.

  “Damn it, Jacques!” He pounded the steering wheel and closed his eyes, wishing more than anything that this was a terrible dream. He muttered to himself, “Okay, think. You can handle this.” He laughed harshly. “You have to handle this.”

  He opened his eyes and turned off the engine, silence setting in. First he had to call Nick to let him know he’d be late. Cringing, Hunter remembered Nick’s sneer when he’d shown up late that first morning. That had totally been his fault, but this wasn’t!

  Surely Nick would understand. He was grumpy and gruff, but he’d been sweet with the kids, and John and his husband were friends with him. It was horrible what happened to his partner, and Nick was probably a great guy.

  He’d understand.

  Hunter tapped his screen with the special touch pad of his glove, acid flooding his stomach as he stared at the complete absence of bars. His voice sounded high and tight as he talked to himself. “Okay, I’ll get out, and I’ll find a signal. It’s fine.”

  He shoved his door open, pushing against gravity. Bracing himself, he undid his seat belt, grunting as he climbed out. His side of the car was pointed up, and he had to jump down a couple feet to the ground, his boots sinking into the fresh snow up to his knees, his jeans instantly wet. Fuck, he should have worn his snow pants.

  Dumbass!

  There had been a bit of snow falling in town when he’d woken, but nothing remarkable. He should have known the farm would be in the snow-belt. It was amazing how the wind patterns, presence or absence of lakes, and the rise and fall of the land meant there’d be a couple inches of snow in one area and three times that not far away. His weather app had called for more snow later in the day, but it was falling heavier and heavier, the blowing wind reducing visibility.

  Hunter held up his phone, walking in a circle through the growing drifts of snow. It was still dark as midnight, and his phone glowed in the gloom. He stood in the middle of the road, joy seizing him as a bar appeared. />
  “Yes, yes!” He jabbed at the screen, opening his contacts, where he’d put Nick’s number in under “Santa Nick.” He connected, putting the phone to his ear. His hat was in the car, and he brushed thick snow from his hair, his ears already stinging. The base temperature was actually not far below freezing—perfect conditions for damp, snowman-making snow—but the windchill was killer.

  “Hello?” Nick answered.

  “Hi!” Hunter’s pulse raced. “I’m so sorry. I’m going to be late.”

  There was a huff of irritation. “It’s six-fifty-two. You have eight minutes.”

  Humiliation ripped through him, and Hunter felt small and stupid even though he wanted to argue that he wasn’t that far away and he would have been there on time, if not early despite the unexpected conditions. “I’m sorry. It’s just that—”

  “It doesn’t matter. This was a mistake. Don’t bother coming.”

  “Wait! I—this—” Hunter tripped over his words. “Let me explain. My car’s in the ditch.”

  Silence.

  Blood rushed in Hunter’s ears. “Hello?”

  Nothing.

  Jerking the phone away from his ear, he stared at the home screen. The single bar was still there. Had Nick actually hung up on him? “Are you serious right now?” he yelled at his phone. He wasn’t sure if he was more furious or hurt. He shouldn’t have cared if Nick liked him or wanted his approval, but…he did. Which was pathetic.

  After pacing back and forth, he stopped and inhaled deeply. It hadn’t been nostril-hair-freezing cold out when he’d left, but the wind was whipping up steadily as a storm apparently moved in. “Okay. Mom has CAA. Just have to call them. No problem.”

  He heaved open the car door, bracing himself on one knee so he could lean in and reach the glove box. He was blocking the overhead light, and he rooted around, feeling for the thick plastic folder. When he had it, he grabbed his wool hat and scarf, crawled back out, and closed the door. “Okay, emergency assistance,” he mumbled, programming the number into his phone and saving it. “Here we go.”

  As soon as he got a signal again.

  After fifteen minutes of slogging up and down the road, keeping the car in sight while jumping, praying, and waving his phone around, Hunter had to declare defeat. The sun was coming up for what it was worth—which wasn’t much in the gloom of the forest, the wind definitely awakened and bringing down the temperature. The blowing snow stung Hunter’s cheeks and eyes, his nose icy.

  Back in the car, he belted himself in and turned on the engine to warm up and think for a minute. He rubbed his hands briskly in his gloves, waiting for the heat to kick in. Someone was bound to come along. He wasn’t that far from civilization. Surely other people lived down this road, not just Nick. He hadn’t seen any tire tracks in the snow, but that didn’t mean anything. People would be going to work and coming along.

  Definitely.

  He jabbed at the radio, switching it to the local news station. The announcer’s voice filled the car, her tone serious. “—snow squall warning is in effect, with the forecasted weather activity arriving hours earlier than expected and with far greater intensity, including winds gusting over seventy kilometers an hour by late morning. The OPP warn that they expect to enforce road closures on several routes in the area, including—”

  Hunter’s heart sank as she listed off road names, including the main county road he’d turned off. The odds of anyone coming along would plummet along with the visibility. “Fuck me,” he muttered, fear beginning to drag icy fingers down his spine.

  The vents had started shooting warm air, and Hunter peeled off his gloves and held up his bare hands. At least he wouldn’t freeze if he had the engine on sporadically—

  Gasping with a burst of true panic, he twisted off the ignition and shoved at the door to get out. He stumbled to the ground, scrabbling around to get his footing, his hands still bare. Another patch of hidden ice sent him sprawling flat out, heavy snow in his face. He finally got to his hands and knees, then to his feet, his legs shaking.

  He peered around the back of the car, and sure enough, the tailpipe was completely stuck in the snowbank and blocked.

  “Yeah, getting carbon monoxide poisoning is not going to help,” he muttered to himself, remembering the story he saw on the news about how deadly gas could build up in a snow-bound car in under two minutes with the engine on. A mother and kids had died the previous winter, and it had happened crazy fast.

  Pulse galloping, he inhaled the cold air deeply, jamming his fists in the pockets of his ski jacket. He felt okay—not sleepy or confused. He hadn’t smelled any gas in the car, but of course carbon monoxide was odorless, so that didn’t mean jack shit.

  Would I even know if I’m confused? Am I thinking clearly?

  He kept breathing deeply, turning his back to the wind and leaving the door open to air out the car. When he was as certain as he could be that he was in his right mind—the decision to come work for Nick Spini notwithstanding—Hunter opened the trunk, snow from the drift up to his waist.

  There was cat litter to help the tires grip, a first aid kit, some bungee cords, the spare tire and jack, and a wool blanket. No shovel, so he couldn’t dig out the car. He pulled out the blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders before going back into the front seat, sitting there for a minute out of the wind.

  He tried to get a signal again, but it was no use. Even if he was strong enough to push the car out of the ditch, he needed someone behind the wheel putting on the gas. The only way Jacques was getting free was probably with a tow truck. Hunter climbed out, the thud of the door closing muffled in the snow.

  It was silent in the trees aside from the growing howl of the wind and his own harsh breathing. What if he sat in the freezing car and no one came? He’d be out of the wind, but…

  Hunter peered down the empty road behind and in front of him and listened, holding his breath. Nothing. No distant engines. No signs of rescue. He hadn’t passed anything on his way from the county road, and it was a hell of a long walk, especially if the county road would be closed. Nick’s farm had to be closer. It was the last place Hunter wanted to go, but it was preferable to freezing to death.

  “I can’t believe that asshole hung up on me,” he announced to the forest. “Asshole!”

  His shout was lost on the wind. The fact that he actually was in danger of freezing was an icy fist in his chest, and he had to keep panic at bay. He could follow the road and hope Nick’s drive had a sign. At least he’d be doing something instead of just waiting and hoping.

  Because what if no one came by for hours? It was very possible no one would. If he waited and then made a try for Nick’s, he’d be in worse shape and trapped in even more snow. No, he couldn’t just sit there.

  The car alarm made a cheery little chirp as he pressed the lock button, leaving Jacques behind as he trudged toward what he hoped was the lesser of two evils.

  Chapter Four

  “Ella, leave the damn squirrels alone!” Nick shouted into the wind as she barked. Visibility was crap, but that was beagles for you. Her nose could whiff out a squirrel, skunk, or raccoon kilometers away even if she couldn’t see them. She always seemed disappointed when Nick didn’t want to hunt them with her. At least they didn’t have many bears around this far south, although a few had been spotted that summer.

  He pushed up the fuzzy brim of his red trapper hat, which attached under his chin and protected his cheeks. He couldn’t see anything beyond twenty feet in front of him. The weatherman hadn’t called for a damn blizzard, but those fools were always wrong—especially with global warming making the weather more unpredictable than Nick could ever remember it. But blizzard or no blizzard, he had to harvest.

  He fired up the chainsaw again, felling another tree from the grid of six- and seven-foot Fraser firs that were ready for market. Picking up the tree with his thick gloves, he shook it to get rid of any dead needles, his muscles aching already, and it wasn’t even ten a.m.
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  Nick hefted the tree over to the baler, the engine on the round, red machine still running under the tarp he’d strung. He fed the tree into the baler’s mouth, and it came out the other side wrapped in twine and ready to be stacked.

  Ella was still barking at something back toward the house, her smallish brown-and-white body tense. Nick squinted through the snow. They were in the first acre closest to home, not far along the access road. He’d have to plow again with the pickup before he could get the flatbed truck down to load the trees, and the way the storm had taken hold, it would probably be tomorrow. He was used to doing everything himself—regularly working fourteen-hour days from spring through to Christmas—but it would have been good to have another pair of hands.

  Too bad the sexy elf had proved unreliable after all.

  He laughed at his foolishness. Sexy elf. Nick should have known better than to ever agree to hire him. Showing up late was apparently his MO, and Nick had zero tolerance for that shit, snow or no snow. Hunter should have left earlier and made sure he made it by seven a.m. sharp.

  Nick should have known not to…what? Get his hopes up? He grunted, scowling to himself. He was better off on his own, and he’d just have to work harder. He’d already shipped out thousands of trees, but demand was high now around the fifteenth of December as busy people hurried to play catch-up and get their trees. The local nursery had asked for more than usual. Why had he agreed to play Santa and waste so much time?

  “Yes, I’m being a grouch, Eric,” he said to the trees, his words swallowed by the wind. He wasn’t in the mood to hear the echo of Eric’s teasing in his mind.

  Ella had gone farther back up the access road, and her barking grew more agitated. Nick squinted again but couldn’t see anything, Ella disappearing. Instinct told him it wasn’t a squirrel or skunk, so he whistled for her and turned off the baler, covering it completely.