The Rules of Gift Giving
A Cabrini Law Collection
Parker St. John
Copyright © 2019 by Parker St. John
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover Art: L.C. Chase www.lcchase.com
Contents
Dear Reader
Fruitcake and Fistfights
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
A Christmas Tail
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Afterword
Also by Parker St. John
About Parker St. John
Dear Reader
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Fruitcake and Fistfights
1
Elliot
“For me? Aw, El, you shouldn’t have!”
Elliot nearly spat out his coffee when he spotted the black satin jewelry box clutched in Miguel’s paws. “That box is worth more than your life, Acosta.”
“You shouldn’t have left it out in the open. You know how Stella gets about sparkly things.”
Bullshit. Elliot hadn’t left it anywhere but safely on his desk while he ran to the break room for a caffeine refill.
But nothing was sacred when it came to Miguel Acosta. He was like an enormous toddler with giant muscles. He might have saved Elliot’s life once, but that didn’t change the fact that he was a pure menace.
He grinned as he tossed the box from hand to hand. “So who’s the lucky recipient?” he asked.
“It’s Lucas’s Christmas present. Don’t touch it.” Elliot snatched the gift mid-air on Miguel’s next toss and tucked it carefully in his desk drawer.
“Oooh,” Miguel winced.
“What?” Elliot’s heart clenched. “You don’t think he’ll like it?”
The watch was masculine and understated, with a burnished chrome face and wide platinum band.
The moment he’d laid eyes on it, he’d known it was the perfect gift for Lucas. It was the type of watch that he’d expect to find in men’s magazines, worn by models with unshaven jaws and twenty inch biceps. It reminded Elliot of the day they met, how he’d imagined Lucas as a sexy billboard underwear model, striding through the rain to check under Elliot’s hood.
Images of a Christmas Eve spent in bed with Lucas wearing nothing but the watch filled his head, and he’d bought it on the spot.
“It’s nice.” Miguel hopped his ass onto Elliot’s desk, taking up the entire working space with his massive legs. “But it’s a little too nice, you feel me?”
“I know he wouldn’t wear it to work,” Elliot conceded, “but we do go out, you know. He’d wear it on special occasions.”
Miguel gave him a pitying look and shook his head, and Elliot bristled. “It doesn’t matter if it’s something he’d wear, bro. It matters how much it cost. Do you really think Lucas is going to be able to buy you something even half as fancy as that?”
“This isn’t a business exchange. I don’t expect equal reciprocity.”
“Jesus, dude, it’s like you’ve learned nothing.” Miguel tsked. “Look, I’ve only met Lucas a few times, but he and I come from the same side of the tracks. I can tell you right now that he won’t accept that gift. It’ll feel like charity.”
“We’re past that,” Elliot scoffed, but a deep feeling of unease began to spread through his gut.
They had gone through a rough patch early on, and Elliot had been exceptionally cautious about any perceived power imbalances. But their relationship had been smooth sailing for months. They split the household bills, they had equal decision-making authority when it came to fixing up the house, and Lucas didn’t even quibble when Elliot paid for date night.
“You might think you’re past it, but I guarantee it’s going to rear its ugly head the minute he opens that gift,” Miguel said sagely, swinging one booted foot so that his heel thunked rhythmically against the side of Elliot’s desk. “Here, I’ll prove it to you. Kovalenko!”
He turned and shouted out Elliot’s open door. “Kovalenko! Get your ass in here!”
“Ah, the dulcet tones of being summoned like a lackey. My favorite part about coming to this ramshackle little office.” The dry voice preceded Maksim Kovalenko down the hall.
When he appeared, it was with a cool waft of winter fresh air still clinging to his woolen overcoat. A light mist clung to his pale hair, making it sparkle silver beneath the fluorescent lights, and a cashmere scarf was wrapped elegantly around his throat. His presence always served to make Elliot feel rumpled and haggard.
“You bellowed?” he asked with a raised brow.
“We need your opinion. Tell us what you think of this watch.” Miguel dug around in Elliot’s drawer and produced the satin box, tossing it to Maksim, who caught it one handed.
“I don’t care what Maks thinks,” Elliot grumped. “It’s not for him.”
“Shush,” Miguel wagged a finger at him.
“Don’t worry, Smith. My expectations are low. I know it was you two clowns who got me the lobster print tie for our Secret Santa.”
“That was Miguel’s idea.”
“Of course it was,” Maksim agreed. He opened the jewelry box and glanced at the watch nestled in the satin lining. “This is acceptable. Quality brand. Your taste is improving, Smith.”
Elliot caught the box as he tossed it back. The uneasy feeling in his stomach had grown to the size of a softball. “Oh, shit.”
“Exactly.” Miguel pointed at him with a knowing look. “You get it now?”
Elliot nodded sickly.
Anything Maksim Kovalenko approved of was top of the line. The man had exquisite taste. Everything he owned, from his clothes to his car to his Montblanc pens, was the very best quality and outrageously expensive. He had about as much in common with Lucas as a flamingo did with a grizzly bear.
He imagined the look of horror on Lucas’s face, and then the blank expression he always used to cover up what he was feeling.
Damn. It had been so perfect for him. It would look amazing on that golden, muscular forearm. Every time it peeked out beneath Lucas’s sleeve, Elliot would be reminded of just how sexy and classy his lover was beneath his rough manners.
“Fuck, now what am I supposed to do?” he muttered, staring down at the gift clutched in his hand.
“Get him a Mariners coffee mug.”
Elliot glowered, snapping the box closed.
Miguel laughed. “Okay, okay, we’ll help you out.”
“We will?” Maksim asked in surprise.
“Look at his clueless face.” Miguel gestured expressively. “It’s our civic duty to help a brother out.”
“I don’t—”
“Get your coat and do
n’t argue.”
With a dejected sigh, Elliot fetched his coat, slipped it over his shoulders, and shoved the satin box into his pocket.
At least the jewelry store had a thirty-day return policy.
“What about this?” Elliot asked desperately, holding up a cashmere sweater in a pale shade of blue that reminded him of Lucas’s eyes.
Miguel gave him a disgusted look. “What are you, his grandma?”
“What’s wrong with a sweater? It would look great on him.”
“No one in the history of gift giving has ever been excited about a sweater, Smith.” Miguel snatched the offending item and placed it back on the rack. “Back me up here, Maks.”
Maksim looked ridiculously out of place, standing in the menswear department in his designer suit, holding the churros and Slurpee Miguel had shoved into his hands.
Every suggestion Maksim made was immediately shot down as even more expensive and objectionable than the watch, so he’d resorted to contributing nothing more than sarcastic comments.
Elliot did his best to ignore him, but it was difficult to ignore a six-foot-three male with a scowl that had already incinerated three hapless sales clerks.
“He’s right.” Maksim confirmed, disgustedly shoving the paper wrapper full of churros into Miguel’s hands.
It was the first thing his two self-appointed helpers had agreed on since they began their great retail excursion over an hour ago. Elliot took that as a sign that he needed to set aside his stubborn desire to curl up against Lucas’s hard chest while it was covered in a soft, cozy sweater.
It was probably for the best. His man wasn’t much of a sweater guy. They just wouldn’t look quite right beneath his leather jacket.
“Come on, out of the clothes store.” Miguel turned Elliot bodily and marched him back among the throngs of holiday shoppers.
Washington Square was festooned with holiday cheer everywhere he looked. In the middle of the square, an enormous tree towered over the crowds, brightly lit with twinkling blue and white lights. Window displays were filled with fake snow, red velvet ribbons, and enormous ornaments in every color of the rainbow. The scent of caramel corn mixed with the sickly sweet cloud of fragrance that wafted out of the Bath & Body Works, and it all blended nauseatingly with the perfumes of the shoppers. The jaunty strains of Jingle Bell Rock swelled up and then faded, only to be replaced by carousel music and childish laughter leaking from the Build-A-Bear Workshop.
The mix of sounds and smells had the beginnings of a headache blooming over Elliot’s left eye.
At least Miguel was enjoying himself. He’d purchased a velvet Santa hat for five dollars from a kiosk, and it perched jauntily atop his head while he tore into his churro.
Maksim followed a pace behind them both, hands tucked into the pockets of his overcoat.
A pack of teenage girls was pointing at them and giggling, and Maksim regarded them with deep suspicion. “Shouldn’t they be in school?” he grouched.
“It’s Christmas vacation, dude,” Miguel said, rolling his eyes.
“It is?” Maksim looked startled. He pulled out his smartphone and swiped, frowning as he consulted the display. He rapidly typed out a message before pocketing it. “What do teenage girls want for Christmas?” he asked.
Both Elliot and Miguel stopped dead in their tracks. They turned in unison to stare.
“What?”
“They’re a little young for you,” Elliot said with a frown.
Maksim looked revolted. “Get your head out of your ass, Smith.”
Miguel laughed. “So who are you buying for? Do you have a secret love child or something?”
“Just a neighbor.” He tucked his hands back into his pockets and hunched, scowling hard enough to give the Grinch a run for his money.
“I’ve got a bunch of nieces, but I’ll be damned if I know what they like. It’s hard to keep up. I just end up getting them gift cards every year.”
“Should I get Lucas a gift card?” Elliot interrupted.
Miguel smacked him in the back of the head. “No. He’s your boyfriend. You’re supposed to actually know what he likes.”
“I do know what he likes,” Elliot said defensively, rubbing the sting from his head. “Cars and sports and cooking, for starters.”
“So get him a car thing.”
“I don’t know my ass from my elbow when it comes to that sort of thing. I mean, I guess I could ask Julio, but… Lucas runs a garage, for crying out loud. What am I going to get him that he doesn’t already have?”
“How about an appliance for the kitchen?” Miguel suggested.
“Nothing says love like a blender,” Maksim snarked.
“You’re not helping.” Miguel jabbed a finger in his direction.
“You’re right,” Maksim agreed. “I don’t know why I’m here. I should leave you to it.”
Miguel grabbed him by the back of his coat before he could make his escape, yanking him to a halt. Maksim’s glare would ordinarily freeze the blood in a man’s veins, but the staff of the CLC had become inured to it over time.
“Stay right where you are, Kovalenko,” Miguel insisted, “or I won’t help you pick out a girly thing for your neighbor.”
Maksim shut his mouth, though it looked as if it caused him physical pain.
They walked in silence for a while, casting baleful glances at the retail glory all around them. Colorful sweaters, jewelry, and baubles of all shapes and sizes filled the shop windows.
Elliot paused in front of a store filled with gear for professional sports teams. He tried to envision Lucas in a Mariners ball cap or a Trailblazer jersey, but he just couldn’t. Lucas wasn’t a man who liked drawing attention to himself.
He sighed. “No jewelry, no clothes, no cologne, no kitchen appliances… what the hell is left?”
“How about a tablet?” Maksim suggested. It was the first useful thing he’d said, and Elliot cocked his head.
“Maybe…” He scratched his nose. “He’d like it, I guess. But it’s not very exciting.”
Maksim shrugged. “I haven’t had to buy gifts for boyfriends very often.”
“You wouldn’t be perpetually single if you didn’t work so much,” Miguel remarked, stuffing the last of his churro into his mouth and wiping the cinnamon and sugar on his pants.
“If that isn’t the pot calling—”
“Would you both shut up?” Elliot growled.
How had he ended up with Santa’s two most annoying elves helping him?
They stopped at a tiny boutique that looked like a teenage girl’s dream. The shelves were crammed with dangly earrings and headbands with fuzzy cat ears attached. A display of bobbleheads with enormous, haunting eyes stared at them as they struggled to maneuver around throngs of young girls.
Elliot had never felt like such a bull in a china shop. He couldn’t imagine how Miguel felt, considering his shoulders were almost twice as wide as his companions.
Maksim took one look at a tin-plated tiara stuffed with cubic zirconia and shook his head. “No.”
“The girls obviously like it,” Elliot pointed out, dodging a young girl with an armful of tiny plush animals with birthstone eyes.
“Mine won’t.”
Miguel and Elliot traded puzzled glances.
As far as Elliot knew, Maksim Kovalenko had no family, and considering his acerbic personality, probably not very many friends. That he cared enough to pick out a gift for his neighbor was surprising, to say the least. That he cared enough to choose the right gift made it feel like they’d stepped into the twilight zone.
“Besides,” Maksim added, shuddering as they exited the store, “it would be beneath my dignity to buy anything that tacky. I’d rather buy her a real tiara.”
“There’s the Maks we know and love.”
In the end, only Miguel made any purchases. They left the mall an hour later, each of their arms laden with packages for Miguel’s incredibly large, boisterous family.
If Ellio
t were a suspicious soul, he’d have thought Miguel only arranged their impromptu shopping trip so he could have a couple free pack mules.
“Don’t worry, El,” Miguel said, stacking his packages in the cab of his truck. “You’ve still got a whole week to figure it out.”
He sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands, wondering how his plans had gotten so derailed.
He’d woken up this morning positive he was going to have the best Christmas he’d had in years, showering the love of his life with affection and the perfect gift. Now it all seemed headed for disaster.
One week didn’t feel like nearly enough time.
2
Elliot
The question of what to do with the watch plagued him all through the commute home.
He’d tucked the box beside the files and travel mug inside his satchel, and it felt as if it were mocking him from there.
He supposed he needed to return it, but he wasn’t convinced he’d be able to find anything better.
Perhaps it had been clueless and insensitive to buy Lucas so expensive a gift when he couldn’t afford to reciprocate.
Elliot wasn’t exactly rolling in money now that he worked for the CLC, but he made a reasonable living and had a decent savings leftover from his days as a corporate attorney.
Lucas, on the other hand, had spent the past few years living barely above the poverty line while he socked away every penny to raise enough capital to buy the garage. Now that he owned the garage, he reinvested every red cent back into the business.
He was a simple man with simple needs, so he didn’t see it as living frugally. Elliot was proud of him for his dedication.
The Rules of Gift Giving Page 1
