by Kayleigh Sky
“Not really. To tell you the truth, I’m not all that surprised. Having this turn out in my favor would have been the surprise.”
“Enough with the negativity. I will tell you honestly that the biggest disappointments in my life have turned out to be the biggest blessings in disguise. I don’t believe for a minute you don’t love Vince, and I know he loves you. Just give yourself a little time.”
He opened the front door and shivered at the blast of cold. “Why? Am I waiting for a Christmas miracle?”
“Ha. Maybe.” She lifted her chin and smiled. “Wait and see.”
He sighed and shook his head.
A forest green garbage bin blended into the dark alongside the building. Kyle unlocked the latch, switched his keys to his other hand, and lifted the plastic lid high enough to toss in the bags he was holding before reaching back for Alissa’s. A moment later, he dropped the lid with a clunk and swiped his fingers off on his skirt. “Walk you to your car.”
The parking lot was well-lit but off the main drag. They walked with breath puffing to Alissa’s white Forester. The cold bit through Kyle’s stockings and froze his thighs. He swore if this wasn’t Vince’s doing, he was going to rip everybody in the costume shop a new one.
“Feels cold enough to snow,” said Alissa, stomping her feet beside her vehicle. “Wouldn’t that be awesome?”
“Hasn’t snowed here in twenty years, but yeah.”
“Keep a good thought.” She hugged him one more time before climbing behind the wheel. “And I mean it, Kyle. Don’t do anything rash. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
“Sounds good,” he said, backing away. “Enjoy the rug rats.”
“Guaranteed.”
He waited until she had her car going and had pulled onto the street before he hurried back inside. Warmth enveloped him, reminding him the heat was still on. He unplugged the tree and strode to the thermostat at the end of the hall. He hit the off button and scowled as the fan kicked on. Stupid thing. He peered at the screen in the dim light and pushed a couple more buttons. The fan switched off.
What a pathetic place to be on Christmas Eve. He’d gone all out for the stupid party. Now he just wanted to go home.
He snatched the last two garbage bags from the darkened conference room and headed out.
The lights in the parking lot spilled puddles of icy white. Like snow.
He locked the front door, then gazed at the sky, smoky with clouds.
He remembered snow falling one day when he was a kid. One of his better temporary stepdads, a guy named Gary, had hauled him into his pickup and drove him to the foothills where the snow was falling the heaviest. He’d parked behind a line of cars and trucks on the side of the road, and Kyle had played with the other kids, all of them scooping up snow and throwing loose, wet balls at each other.
But he didn’t expect snow.
Only icy cold.
He unlocked his Jeep Cherokee and slid behind the wheel. The damn thing was like a freezer inside, and he blew into his hands before starting the engine and pulling onto the street. He lived in Cedar Creek, close to thirty minutes outside Ashwood Grove. The commute sucked, but even with Vince’s income, they’d be hard put to find a place as nice as the one they had. Except for the rent increase. Which he somewhat understood. The owners were older, living in a senior community, and on a fixed income. The house was small, but clean, and had a space over the garage Vince used as his studio. They’d moved in together three months after they met and had lived in the house for over two years now. The owners’s kids had once broached the possibility of Kyle and Vince buying it, but without the promotion…
Dammit.
He smacked the steering wheel, and his headlights dimmed and flickered. Well, that was weird. With a frown, he glanced at the controls beside the steering wheel, wiggled a knob, and a moment later the lights brightened again. After another few minutes, they went back to flickering. And about ten minutes after that, in the middle of nowhere, the engine died.
Kyle steered the vehicle to the side of the road and stepped on the brakes. Not a single light other than his two headlights lit the darkness. Which he couldn’t keep on. Were they dimming again? What the hell had happened? He squirmed on his seat and pushed his hand into his pocket and…
Fuck.
He’d left his phone and work clothes lying on a table in the dark conference room. A war between frustration and panic went on in his chest for a moment before he blew out a breath and switched off his lights. The road he was on cut through a long stretch of woods before reaching Cedar Creek, still a twenty-minute drive away. It made more sense for him to hoof it back to his office, retrieve his phone, change clothes, and call for a tow. And it was cold, but it wasn’t snowing, and he wasn’t going to freeze to death. The worst that might happen was he’d shiver off a few pumpkin cheesecake calories. Not exactly a lose-lose.
So, he locked the Jeep, shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and set off. No lights appeared in the woods. He might consider knocking on somebody’s door. People might be more helpful on Christmas Eve, less likely to chase away a strange guy in a Santa’s elf costume appearing in the dead of night. Although, it was still early, so if there were houses nearby, he’d surely see lights. But there was nothing but dark and the rattling sound of leaves and a faint hint of the moon above the layers of clouds. The icy air bit through his stockings, and he quickened his pace, hoping to warm himself up.
Maybe this was a sign. Hard to break up with Vince if he never made it home. Christmas Eve was a chickenshit time to break up with somebody anyway. And Christmas wasn’t any better. They had stockings hanging from the fireplace mantle. A tree in the front window. Of course, they hadn’t gotten the tree together because they hardly did anything together anymore. Vince had gotten the tree, and Kyle had decorated it. And the whole time he’d decorated it, he’d been fucking lonely. Why was he doing this alone? What was the point of having a lover if you never felt loved?
Well, who was the one who’d pissed all over his lover’s proposal?
He bit down hard on his lip, shuddering through a blast of wind. Knock it off with the pity party for God’s sake. Who texted you? Vince. Who swore he’d take tomorrow off? Vince. Who adores Christmas? Vince.
Would you really leave him on his favorite holiday?
An image of Vince’s face filled his vision as though projected on the dark road. Would Vince be secretly relieved—because maybe getting away from Kyle was the reason he worked all the time now—or would hurt swamp his expression and melt his warm hazel eyes into puddles of pain.
So expressive.
All Vince’s humor and playfulness danced with the dimples in his cheeks. Excitement twinkled in his eyes. Laughter crinkled them. Worry planted itself in the grooves between his eyebrows. Lust flared like leaping flames. But pain? Pain cut his face with lines and filmed his gaze with sorrow.
Kyle sniffled and rubbed his nose. His eyes seeped tears, but that was only from the slashing cold.
You aren’t breaking up with him, you know.
How could he? He was an idiot not to realize he loved him. But he’d done nothing to change what was happening between them. And what was happening? When had the space between them grown into a divide so deep and dark he was afraid to look into it?
You know when, you idiot.
The good times—the astronaut and the alien… the security guard and the office worker—had faded away after the Fourth of July barbecue when he’d met Vince’s family and the trips to the animal shelter to look at the dogs and kittens they’d never adopted. Because of you.
His mind returned to all the reasons he’d given not to get a pet.
What about the vet bills? Could they afford the extra security deposit? Who was going to walk a dog every day? Would it mean Kyle having to cut back on his overtime?
Money. It was always money.
Well, he didn’t have any now.
He slowed on the side of the road, his t
hin-soled slippers crunching audibly in the stillness. The damp was seeping through the fabric, numbing his feet. A bluish, moonlike illumination winked in and out of the trees, wavering in his squinty stare. He blinked, and it was gone.
Quickening his pace, he gazed around him as he walked.
Traffic had probably been heavier an hour or two earlier as people had hurried home or to relatives’s houses. But now they were there. Warm. Listening to Christmas carols. Wrapping presents and baking pies. Which was where Kyle should be, with a glass of wine or a warm brandy, A Christmas Story on TV, and a fire in the fireplace.
Half-naked, because a fire always turned their little living room into an oven.
Instead, Dave had to plan the annual Christmas party for actual fucking Christmas, the self-centered bastard. And if Kyle hadn’t been such a desperate sycophant, he’d have told the guy to take a flying leap. Instead, he’d given in and plotted to break up with Vince. Would he still be doubting himself if he’d gotten the promotion? Guilt and a sleazy unease churned in his stomach. He wanted to go home and make up with Vince.
The light reappeared, but held steady this time, a pale, moonlike orb that gradually separated into two spheres. A vehicle was approaching. Kyle’s heart quickened. Maybe it was a family. Maybe they’d give him a ride.
Maybe it was an ax murderer.
He shivered harder. The engine sounded like it belonged to a truck, and a few seconds later the headlights swept over him. He winced and swung his arm over his eyes. The vehicle slowed and stopped. Kyle lowered his arm and chewed his lip. The window came down on a merry face. Unruly dark hair and hazel eyes that sparkled in the daytime like a kaleidoscope, flecked blue and green and gold.
“Hey, sexy. Wanna lift?”
Sexy?
Seriously?
His laugh swelled against his teeth before he bit it back and said, “Do I know you?”
“Do you want to?”
Now he laughed. How cheesy. “I’m fine.”
“On a deserted road, in the dark, you’re fine?”
“I know where I’m going.”
“I can get you there faster. Why are you walking anyway?”
“My car broke down.”
“Get in.”
Kyle shrugged and circled around to the passenger side. The warm air blowing out of the vents tore a moan of relief from him.
“Well, that was a sexy sound.”
He shot a glare across the seat. “That was the sound of somebody unfreezing to death.”
“Unfreezing to death. I didn’t know that was a thing. The stockings… They maybe weren’t a good plan.”
“Oh, really. Well, imagine my surprise when I expected to wear a Bob Cratchit costume today. When I didn’t expect my Jeep to break down.”
“One of those days, huh?”
“Yeah. You could say that.”
“Young lady like yourself should be more careful about walking alone at night. You never know who might pick you up.”
Kyle shot another stare across the seat. Oh. A game? Things suddenly kicked up underneath his skirt. Warming body parts straining his pantyhose.
He bit his lip as his Jeep appeared.
“That’s mine,” he said.
The truck blew past it.
“I’ll just take you all the way. Make sure you stay safe. What’s your name anyway?”
Kyle gazed at a profile barely discernable in the dark. “Kylie,” he said after a moment.
“Kylie. Well, isn’t that a pretty name?”
“What’s yours?”
“Mine? Mine is… Vince. Yeah. Vince.”
Kyle shifted sideways on the seat. “I hope you aren’t a serial killer or anything.”
“No,” Vince said quietly. “I’m not that… exactly.”
Kyle drew in a breath and let it go. “Maybe you should let me out.”
Vince smiled, shook his head, and flipped the locks on the door. “I don’t think so. I think you and me need to spend some time together.”
“You better not hurt me.”
Vince turned to gaze at him. Even in the dim light, his face looked menacingly blank. “We’ll see.”
Role Playing
Teeth nibbling his bottom lip spoke of Kyle’s nerves.
Was he really scared?
Vince doubted it. He was probably only getting into his role of hapless hitchhiker. That the game was playing out like this was a shocker to Vince. Kyle trashing his marriage proposal had smashed Vince’s confidence to bits. Maybe Kyle didn’t know how wrecked Vince was. After all, Vince had laughed the rejection off and stuck to his happy-go-lucky outlook.
Which was a lie.
Kyle had crushed him. And Vince had retreated to glib and casual and smiles on his way out the door. Text message conversations. Making sure he didn’t linger because he’d probably fall apart.
But he’d forgotten something. He’d forgotten Kyle spent his life scared of all the terrible things that could go wrong, and Vince had let the tiniest push send him careening away.
Well, no more. The real Vince was back. The one who loved Kyle and had figured out early on that Kyle lived his life on pins and needles. A kind of constant aggravation had him on high alert all the time. Vince spending time on something else was Vince kicking Kyle to the curb. And now that bastard Dave had passed over his most driven and attentive employee. Admittedly, Kyle was a bit too selfish for loyalty, but what he needed was somebody—was Vince—showing him he had nothing to be afraid of. Kyle had threatened to leave before. The first time had been his birthday, three months after they’d moved in together. Then the Fourth of July barbecue at Vince’s folks’s house. And now…
Well, how to prove he had Kyle’s back was the problem. After Kyle rejected him, Vince had retreated into his work. It had hurt less. And he wanted the money to woo Kyle back. Now the best Christmas present ever sat all shiny and new in their garage. The only problem was, Vince had no doubt at all it wasn’t enough. No matter how much Kyle had said he wanted it, it was only a thing. And no matter how much Kyle craved physical and monetary security, his heart longed for love and faithfulness. For somebody who wasn’t going to leave him or forget he was there.
But how to fix things hadn’t cemented in Vince’s mind until…
The costume shop seven hours earlier…
Vince had told Kyle he’d stop by the store during his lunch hour, but he’d taken the day off for last minute Christmas shopping and had gotten there shortly before they closed for Christmas Eve at 2 p.m.
While the clerk helped a woman at the register, Vince took a moment to look around. A costume store that stayed open year round surprised him. He was used to the Halloween shops that opened and shut in a month. But this place was chock full of cosmetics, wigs, hats, ice-skating and ballet outfits, fake beards, scarves, and jewelry pieces. Racks held various items ready for people to put together themselves and premade costumes lined the walls.
“May I help you?”
Vince turned and approached the clerk behind the counter. “I’m here to pick up a costume for Kyle Preston.”
“It’s in back. I’ll bring it right out.”
The box she returned with was a large white rectangle like the boxes they used to give out in department stores years ago.
“A Victorian-era gentleman,” said the clerk.
Bob Cratchit. Odd that Kyle had picked a guy who’d had little love of money.
“What’s it come with?” Vince asked.
She lifted the lid. “A checklist is here for return, but he ordered trousers, vest, frock coat, top hat, and a feather pen.”
“A feather pen?” Vince chuckled and picked it up. The feather was pale blue and silky soft, and Vince’s brain went flying to scenes of torturing Kyle with the thing.
Sighing, he laid it back on the folded pile of clothes and glanced around again while the clerk fit the lid back on the box.
The soft strains of Christmas music floated from a speaker on a shelf behind h
er. Vince lifted his gaze to the costumes pinned to the wall above them and landed on a sexy little number with cardboard arms and legs sticking out of it.
“Do you have that one?” he asked, pointing at the Playboy Bunny suit, a niggle of an idea teasing at this brain.
She swiveled her head, following the direction of his finger. “The Cocktail Waitress?”
“Yeah.”
“I only have the one size. It’s not popular.”
“What size?”
“Fourteen. Female,” she added. “But the skirt is stretchy.”
“What comes with it?”
“Just the skirt and top. You’d want stockings and heels, probably. We have shoes against the wall if you don’t have your own.”
“Can I swap?”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
Internally, Vince sported a shit-eating grin as he imagined Kyle in that skimpy skirt. The guy had legs up to his neck. Talk about smokin’ hot. “If you’ve got it, I’d want a Santa cap and a feather boa.”
“Well, the cap comes with a Santa costume,” she said uncertainly. “I just work here. I don’t think I can mix and match unless you book an appointment in advance. We do do that, but not last minute. Plus, I can’t not fill his order.”
“Well, how much for both costumes?”
“Forty-nine for the cocktail waitress and sixty-five for the Santa one.”
“And it’s just a rental?”
“That’s right. If you look over there with the scarves, we do have some boas. I can add that in at no cost.”
“Okay, let’s do that. I need shoes too.”
“Those are on the shelves up front.”
The best option shoe-wise if he hoped to fit Kyle were black ankle boots in a soft suede. The boa was the color of snow and soft as a cloud. He brought his items back to the counter and set them down. “I know this is weird, but can you put the original receipt in the waitress box? I’ll take the new one.”
“Sure.”
A couple minutes later, he stopped at a drugstore for stockings and added them to the box with the waitress costume. The receptionist in the downstairs lobby at Kyle’s office took the package with a smile.
