Flushing, he tugged at the hem of his sweater. It had been a holiday gift from Stephanie last year. Soft cashmere in a deep aubergine. He loved it but lived in his well-worn hoodies most of the time.
“Thank you,” he said to Rowen, ignoring Steph’s cross-armed observance.
Cheryl stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek in greeting when Matt walked in the kitchen before stepping back and taking both his hands in hers. “You clean up good,” she teased with a wink. What was with these women and the need to one-up each other on how much they could make him blush?
A cough interrupted his thoughts. Baz stood with his back to the stovetop, eyes boring into Matt. “She’s right,” he said hoarsely, before seeming to catch himself and looking down to study his Vans.
Of course, Baz was impeccably dressed, in black jeans that fit like a second skin and a dark blue V-neck sweater with a black T-shirt peeking from underneath. The sweater brought out the blue in his eyes and made Baz’s hair shine midnight-black. Baz waved his hand toward the adjoining dining room. “It’s ready if you’re hungry.”
“Hungry?” Steph scoffed. “I’m starving… lead on,” she commanded. Calling up the stairs, she bellowed, “Chance! Dinner!”
At the undignified yell, Matt met Baz’s eyes in amusement. Cheryl smiled fondly at her daughter and placed her hand atop Rowen’s dark curls, steering her to the table.
The kids dominated the meal as usual. Sauce spattered in paint-like streaks across both their faces as they slurped in the long spaghetti strands. Matt was trying hard not to stain his sweater and wondered if he’d been overconfident to wear it… except that approving look in Baz’s eyes was worth the risk.
“That reminds me. It’s time to get organized for making ornaments. Matt…. Matt?”
Whoops, he’d been distracted and had no idea what Cheryl was asking. “Sorry, Ma, I was in my own world.”
She pressed her lips together. “Chance said that at school they were asked to share any family holiday traditions.”
The little girl nodded. “I told them about our elf, seeing the carolers on Fridays, and visiting Santa’s workshop and making ornaments for our tree.”
Across from him, Baz looked wistful. Matt recalled Steph sharing childhood stories of happy Christmases. He knew she missed her father, and Baz must too. Cheryl often said nobody sang along with the carolers any louder than John, although he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.
The Starr Christmas had always been a dignified affair. A white Christmas tree, decked out in gold glass baubles, pearl strings, and delicate red velvet bows. Tinsel did not touch Loraine Starr’s tree. The ornaments matched the living room, which back then had been swathed in shades of cream, from almond to buttermilk to vanilla. Light French country furniture mixed with a few gold-edged antiques, to which the formal tree was a suitable embellishment.
Clearing her throat, Stephanie threw Matt a go-along glance and turned her attention to Baz. “Did I tell you that the town started its own ball-dropping ceremony on New Year’s Eve?” At Baz’s owlish stare, she leaned in on her elbows and continued, “We’ve been getting quite the crowds. Why deal with Times Square when you can have Town Square? The town council commissioned Waterford to create an exact replica at one-sixth the size. They drop it from City Hall.” She paused, then added the punchline. “Ryan Seacrest is going to broadcast from Fir Falls this year.”
After an extended moment in which Baz’s expression morphed from interest to surprise to chagrin, he gritted his teeth and tossed her an unamused look. “F-fudge you,” he blurted.
Stephanie’s bark of a laugh vibrated over the table.
Chance giggled uproariously despite Cheryl’s shaking head. A moment later, Chance whispered in her little sister’s ear and Rowen’s wide stare landed on Baz before returning to her meatball.
Considering meatballs, Baz’s were amazing, perfect moist consistency and the right amount of spiciness. Wiping up some garlicky sauce with a piece of bread, Matt let the savory flavors blend on his tongue. When he was a youngster his parents allowed him to order spaghetti and meatballs from the children’s menu when they ate out. It wasn’t served at home. He didn’t know if it was too plebeian or would have been considered too risky for his mother’s cream linen tablecloth.
Cheryl took up the conversation. “There is a holiday event in town for New Year’s Eve. It’s not sponsored by Waterford….” She tossed a narrowed gaze at her daughter. “It’s a dance and silent auction for charity.” She looked at Matt. “Matt’s sculpture and figurines bring in the most money, of course.” She smiled at Chance. “Our resident princess calls it our ‘New Year’s Eve Ball’.”
Pushing her empty plate away with a low groan, Stephanie patted her inflated stomach. “Ugh. That was too good.” She returned to the topic. “It started three years ago. I told you we created that committee, remember?”
Baz tipped his head to the side, considering. “The Chamber of Commerce charity group?”
“Yep,” Stephanie said, popping the P.
“Steph thought up the dance idea,” Cheryl offered.
“Where do you hold it?”
“The Elk Lodge donates their space.”
Baz arched a brow, lips in a moue.
Matt nodded. “I know, you’re remembering that old wood building not looking like much. But we light the place up, and Ma can do wonders with inexpensive tulle fabric we get in bulk.” Matt grinned. “I bet you got your party skills from her.”
Blushing, Cheryl dipped her head. “I don’t know about that.”
“Don’t get bashful. You make it magical.”
He turned to Baz, forcing his tapping foot still with an internal scold. “We usually all go together. You’ll come, right?”
Bug-eyed, Baz dropped the bread he’d been holding. “What?”
“Of course he’ll be there,” Steph assured, before turning to Baz. “I mean it’s New Year’s Eve. You’ll love it.”
“I don’t dance.”
Steph was having none of that and rolled her eyes. “As long as you don’t judge us too harshly, Mr. Event Planer. Because, let me tell you, we’ve more than held our own. We’ve come up with a new theme each year and try to one-up ourselves.” Steph’s voice got animated. “We hired a new caterer this year and booked a live band instead of a DJ. I’ve been using social media. If we turn it into a must-go-to-event, if we raise the bar, then we’ll attract more donors and not only townsfolk.”
“All the money we raise goes to Holiday Helpers. They provide food for the needy all year round. Matt’s been helping them out for years.”
Face warming, Matt felt all eyes on him. He fought the stammer in his voice. “Nobody should be hungry ever. But around the holidays… well, it’s worse somehow.”
The intensity of Baz’s gaze caught Matt’s breath. “Guess I’m going to a ball.”
Chapter Five
Sebastian
IT wasn’t like Seb didn’t know Matty was handsome. Ten years ago, gangly and awkward, he’d had a spark in his gold-brown eyes that beguiled. Yet now, faced with a lightly stubbled Matty, hair moussed to perfection and wearing a touch-inviting sweater in a royal shade of eggplant that infused his eyes with a violet tinge—it made his breath catch.
Pleased at how everyone praised his meal, Seb ate in silence, happy to take in the boisterous pleasure of his nieces battling their long strands of spaghetti. Stephanie and Mom talked a bit more about the New Year’s Eve gala plans, then moved on to discussing the store, juggling day care concerns, and pressing Matty for advice more than Seb thought even they realized. Not only was Matty a family member, he was also an unofficial business partner. The easy camaraderie flowed like wine.
“You cooked, so we’ll clean,” Mom said. “Why don’t you and Matt play with the girls before bedtime?”
“I can help clean up too, Ma,” Matty volunteered.
She tutted. “Steph and I have it. Go on now.”
Back in the living room beneath th
e multicolored glow of the tree lights, Seb stiffened, wondering where the girls had run off to.
Matty plopped into what had been Dad’s chair and Seb fought a wince. Answering the unspoken question, Matty said, “They’re changing into their jammies. Probably they’ll bring down some toys.” He looked up at Seb and cocked his head. “You can sit, you know.”
Seb shuffled toward the sofa and folded himself into the corner. Settling left ankle over right knee, hands fiddling against his inner calf, he glanced toward the archway, hoping the girls would appear. No matter how unsure he felt around them, it was better than being alone with Matty and his traitorous memories.
As if on cue, Chance and Rowen dashed in wearing their matching candy-cane-striped pajamas. Both ran straight to Matty.
“Hey munchkins,” Matty ruffled their hair and beamed at them. “Whatcha got there?”
Rowen held up an Elmo plush and Chance her Rapunzel doll. Nabbing the Elmo, Matty started singing “Elmo’s World” in a ridiculous falsetto. Seb couldn’t help the giggle that escaped and Matty met his gaze, grinning widely.
Chance moved away and was balancing Rapunzel on the wide sofa arm while she crawled in front of the couch like she was patrolling. Seb squinted down at her.
“I’m a firedog, you know.”
Thinking over this pronouncement, he asked, “You mean a dog who lives at the fire station and rides on the fire truck to help the firefighters?” Seb didn’t think any of the New York City firehouses still had that tradition, but maybe they still had a dog in the Fir Falls fire station?
“No, I live at the North Pole and have red eyes and claws so I can walk on ice,” Chance said matter-of-factly. “And I scare away zombies and skeletons and monsters when I go like this.” She demonstrated a wavery howl. “And do you know how I became a firedog?”
Mystified, Seb shook his head.
“A wicked witch cast a spell on my mother and father. They were human but she turned them into firedogs and wanted them to be evil but they stayed good. And then when I was born, I was a firedog too.”
“Oh, uh, that’s interesting.” Seb looked at Matty for help with what was the appropriate reaction.
Matty winked and held Elmo’s soft red arms in front of him while calling out “Brains,” in a high-pitched squeal. Rowen imitated his action, and they both clomped over to menace Rapunzel on her perch while Chance the firedog defended her in a wolfish manner.
“You can be a firedog, too, Uncle Seb,” Chance whispered at him, waving her arm for him to come down and also defend the princess.
With as much grace as a nearly six-foot man could, he dropped to his hands and knees and looked over at Chance for what to do next. She tipped her head back and howled impressively. Feeling foolish but also rather free, he did the same and added a low growl. Elmo came closer, and he swiped at it with what he assumed were supposed to be his claws.
“Nooooo!” Elmo complained, “I’m hungry… need brains!”
“Brains…,” Rowen repeated, arms reaching up for the doll.
Chance blocked her and Seb curled his fingers inward and threatened Elmo while fighting back irresistible laughter bubbling from his throat. Elmo’s fur tickled his knuckles, and he growled once more. A little hand landed atop his head as Chance stood to her full height. “By the power of the witch of the Northern Lands, I banish you, zombies!” She raced to the fireplace mantel and grabbed the remote control to toggle the fairy lights on and off three times in quick succession in a lightning-like effect.
Still grasping Elmo, Matty collapsed on the floor with a final squeaky, “Brains….”
Rowen looked at him. “Did we lose, Unc Matt?”
At his nod, she threw herself on the floor next to him and wiggled like a fish out of water until stilling after a final thrust of defeat.
Poking her, Matty said, “Don’t worry, Row, zombies always come back.”
She opened one eye. “I know that.”
Standing, Seb caught Matty’s lips parting as he gazed at Seb. Looking down, Seb tugged on his sweater, which had ridden up, exposing his stomach.
“Girls,” Steph called out. “Bedtime.”
“No, Mommy,” they begged in unison. “Five more minutes.”
“Not if you want a story,” she challenged.
Rowen spun to Matty. “Story?” she asked.
Matty stood up and tilted his head to regard the little girl. “Would it be okay if your Uncle Sebastian read to you tonight?”
At Rowen’s nod, Matty confirmed with Seb, “If you want to, that is.”
“Of course.” He smiled at his nieces and then chastised himself for admiring the curve of Matt’s butt as he followed him up the stairs.
THREE stories, tooth cleansing with a rousing rendition of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” so they brushed long enough, and several minutes of good night kisses, hugs, and tickles later, Seb and Matty returned downstairs. They discovered Mom and Stephanie at the kitchen countertop, hovering over the laptop as they discussed inventory. After wiping down the stovetop in case he’d missed any sauce stains earlier, Seb found himself studying Matty and then looking away the second their eyes met.
“I should go,” Matty said when the silence lasted a beat too long. He briefly hugged Seb’s mom and squeezed Steph’s shoulder.
Both women stared at Seb until he felt obliged to say, “I’ll walk you out.”
After donning their jackets and scarves, they stepped onto the front porch. Unlike Matty’s porch, this one didn’t wrap around the house and wasn’t as deep. But it was an excellent perch for when it was raining or snowing, and Seb remembered many lazy summer days sitting on the steps and daydreaming.
It was cold, but not bitterly so, and Seb hesitated only a moment before asking if Matty wanted to sit a bit before heading home. His original rudeness with Matty regarding his family continued to ping his conscience. With a smile Matty agreed and settled on the top step, arms resting on his knees.
Seb rubbed the knees of his jeans. “I wanted to thank you for suggesting that the girls let me read to them. They aren’t…. Well, they need some time to get used to me being around.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that. It’s important that they get to know you. Family is important.”
“Do you get to see your parents much? Do they visit?”
Mouth set in a hard line, Matty looked like he was considering his answer. “Not really. They gave me the house. Wanted me to make a go of the workshop.”
“That was nice of them,” Seb said, fighting the question in his tone.
“It was. I get that. I don’t want to seem ungrateful. How many artists my age have a setup like mine that’s basically free?” He crossed his arms. “It’s their way of showing love. Best they can do. I’ve learned to understand that.”
“So you found another family?” Seb flinched after the words came out, realizing how it sounded. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean….”
“It’s okay. I know it was weird when you walked in the door and heard the girls calling me Uncle Matt. Especially with our… history… and the fact that we haven’t talked in years.”
Face heating, Seb squirmed on the cool wooden step.
Matty straightened his back and held Seb’s gaze with growing intensity. Inching closer, he raised his hand to Seb’s cheek. Matty’s fingers felt warm against his chilled skin.
“You grew up fine,” Matty murmured. “Is this okay?”
Pulled by an invisible string, Seb nodded and closed the gap. The kiss was gentle, exploring but fearless. Like a whisper made flesh. He inhaled and licked his lips before tilting his head and letting the soft kiss deepen to a happy Oh yes. I remember this. Remember you.
Fingers curled along his jawline, drawing Seb closer. The angle changed and a charge ran through Seb as he brought his arms up and around and drew Matty toward him in return. Damn, they were wearing so many layers that he couldn’t feel Matty’s muscles, but his taste was as familiar as the first breeze o
f spring.
After a light nip at Seb’s bottom lip and a reluctant groan, Matty pulled back. “Baz, your sister will be out here any second to try catching us… well, doing this.” He leaned in again and licked a gentle stripe over Seb’s closed lips.
Seb knew that was true and found it funny that Matty also did, although it shouldn’t surprise him. Matty knew his sister as well as Seb did by now. Maybe better. “She’s been fairly transparent,” he admitted.
Matty chuckled. “Yep. Like glass.”
“Does it bother you?” Seb pulled his jacket tighter.
“Not unless it does you.”
Seb locked onto Matty’s whiskey stare. “No.”
“So we won’t let it bother us.”
Standing, he held his hand out to help Seb up. The gallant gesture brought a smile to Seb’s lips. The flicker of a curtain moving shifted the light behind them. Lips twitching, Matty grinned. “See ya, Baz.”
“See ya.”
Seb stood on the steps several minutes after Matty drove away. Those words—see ya—were the same they’d used years ago after every hookup. Casual with a hint of promise. What did it mean now? He didn’t know if he was up to a holiday fling—certainly not with Matty. But what else could it be? Not only was he returning to New York City at the start of the New Year, but he’d be moving to London shortly thereafter. Lips still tingling, he turned to head back inside. His rational side knew it was playing with fire, but was it wrong to want to feel that again? Even for a little while?
SUNDAY had been spent divided between helping his mother mind the girls and avoiding thinking too much of the kiss he’d shared with Matty the night before. After a restless night, he was grateful for the arrival of Monday morning. After dropping Rowen off at her preschool, he drove with Stephanie to Chesnut Collectibles and Ceramics and volunteered to help up front, so Stephanie had time to work on the online orders. Not familiar enough with the merchandise to help customers, he wrote up receipts, collected money, ran credit cards, and wrapped items for shipping. He enjoyed watching his mom converse about the various art pieces. She spoke of Matty’s work with true maternal pride, but she also was able to explain the techniques of other artists. He caught a snippet of her telling a couple about a promising new artist who Matt was mentoring when he heard Steph shout, “Dammit!”
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