by Megan Slayer
“Merry Christmas.” He stared at the ring. The gravity of the moment washed over him and his love for Ashley grew. “I’m so lucky.” He kissed Ashley and lingered in the glow of having his life in order. “I have everything I could ever want. You’re the most understanding person. I’ll be home more. I promise.”
“I know you will.” Ashley squeezed Colt’s fingers. “I’m not worried.” He kissed Colt. “Not a bit.”
Wyatt crept into the dining room. “Gross, Dads. Geez. Kiss somewhere else.”
“What?” Ashley dried his face again. “Sorry.”
“Here’s your watch.” Wyatt handed over the timepiece. “Why are you both crying? Are you splitting up? Or did I miss Santa? I always miss Santa. You tell me he’s coming and I have to be asleep. I go to bed and he shows up. I want to see him. How can I tell him thank you if I can’t see him?”
“Because you can’t.” Ashley scooped Wyatt into his arms. “I asked your dad to marry me.”
Colt stood. “And when Grandma gets here, I’m asking Dad to marry me.”
Wyatt frowned. “I’m confused. I thought you were mad at each other. Now you’re getting married? Grown-ups.” He shook his head. “Drama.”
Colt snorted. Wyatt would never be boring. “Well, our plan makes more sense if I plan to adopt you, then I should be married to your dad. We want to make things legal.” Colt smiled. “And I want you to see me ask him. I want your grandmother to see it, too.”
“What Colt means is we’re a family. Why don’t we all have the same last name?” Ashley brushed Wyatt’s hair from his face. “What do you think of Harrison-Willis? Willis-Harrison sounds strange.”
Wyatt’s gaze switched between Colt and Ashley. “I’d be Wyatt Harrison-Willis?” His head lolled on his shoulders. “It’s so much to write. It’ll go across the top of every paper. I don’t want to learn to write so many letters.”
“But you’ll have two dads who love you very much,” Ashley said.
“I want to marry your dad and adopt you because I want everyone to know you’re my family,” Colt said. Pride, excitement and joy filled his body. Wyatt’s protests didn’t bother him. His dream had come true.
“They know.” Wyatt rolled his eyes. He leaned in close to Ashley and hugged his neck. “I want to be adopted,” he whispered. “Want both of my dads, too. But I won’t write a long name.”
“You might change your mind.” Colt breathed a sigh of relief. For all Wyatt’s bluster, the kid was still a kid. “Then it’s settled,” he said. “This is the best Christmas ever. I don’t need Santa. I got the presents I wanted already.”
Wyatt didn’t grin, but his eyes lit up. Finally the joy spread across his face. “Two dads with the same last name…cool, but I want to see Santa. He better show up.” He poked Ashley in the chest. “Dad? I did get what I wanted for Christmas, remember?”
“You did.” Ashley smiled and hugged Wyatt tighter. “Thanks for making that wish.”
“Wish?” Colt asked. “What did you wish for?”
“You and Dad to stay together,” Wyatt said. “I didn’t want you to fight anymore.”
Colt and Ashley would still have arguments, but he wasn’t giving up on his fiancé. No way. “Thanks, Wyatt.”
The door clunked, and the dogs raced through the house to the kitchen. Ashley placed Wyatt on his feet. “I didn’t realize Mom was here,” Ashley said. “We should…compose ourselves.”
“Wait.” Colt squeezed Ashley’s hand. “I love you guys. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.” Ashley kissed Colt on the cheek, then ruffled Wyatt’s hair. “You’re my favorite presents too.”
“Merry Christmas, Dads.” Wyatt squirmed free, then darted out of the room. “Grandma!”
Colt held Ashley back. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” Ashley said. “I’ll help Mom. Then I’ll give you a hand with the table.”
“Deal.” Colt lingered in the dining room. The ring weighed down his hand, but he didn’t care. The piece of metal reminded him to whom he belonged. He pressed the ring to his lips. He’d thought their life together might have been over, but Ashley had been right. Christmas magic had come through. He glanced out of the window. Snow fluttered to the ground. His heart was full and his Christmas spirit renewed. He had everything he ever wanted—the guy, the kid, the dogs and the best Christmas in Cedarwood. Who could ask for more?
* * * *
Ashley collapsed on the couch and blew out a ragged breath. Six hours of fun with his family had worn him out. He glanced up at the clock. Almost midnight. He’d never get Wyatt’s presents from Santa under the tree at this rate. He’d fall asleep first. He swirled the wine in his glass. Drinking wasn’t his idea of a fun way to spend a few hours, but after the events of the last couple of days, he needed something. He stared at the tree. The day had been beautiful, and the night was wonderful too. Enough snow had fallen to cover the ground and make the lights on the houses glow.
Colt shuffled into the room. “Well, that took longer than I thought. Wyatt asked a thousand questions and did his best to stall.”
“I’m sure.” He patted the cushion. “He loves Christmas. Did he bargain with you to stay up for Santa?”
“He did.” Colt settled beside Ashley. “He begged, pleaded, offered me money and whined.” He draped his arm across the back of the sofa. “Then he collapsed. Fell asleep mid-sentence.”
“Sounds about right.” He rested his head on Colt’s shoulder. “We did it.”
“We did.” Colt rubbed Ashley’s arm. “Which did we do? My brain is still buzzing. I didn’t think your mother could be that nosy or expect us to have the wedding planned already.”
“You know my mother. She can’t handle not having control…like someone else I know.” He sat up and faced Colt. “What I meant was, we made it to Christmas together.” He placed his left hand on Colt’s. The rings did nearly match and looked fantastic together. Like they’d picked them out together.
“We did. Were you doubting?” Colt asked. His mouth kinked in a smile. “I wasn’t completely sure until yesterday.”
“That’s when I was sure. It’s been tough with moving and training the dogs. I wasn’t sure we’d get through it, and I worried we’d tried to do too much.” Ashley flipped his hair out of his eyes. “But…I wasn’t about to give up.”
“Me neither,” Colt said. He’d fallen hard for Ashley from the start. Thank goodness they shared the same love. “What changed your mind? It couldn’t have been the rings.”
“No.” He laughed. But Colt was partly right. “You came home so upset because you’d missed the rest of the night. That’s when I got it and knew I’d made the right decision to buy your ring. You might have been at the diner, but your heart was with us. It’s selfish, but it’s true.” He shrugged. “I also came across a picture of Danica. She always said life was too short to argue. I forgot about that lesson partly because I didn’t want to admit she was gone and that she was right. I pushed you so hard, and it’s a wonder you didn’t break.”
“Came this close.” Colt massaged Ashley’s thigh. “But you and your son are too important.”
“And you’re important to us. But that’s the other thing—it’s not just you and me or me and Wyatt. We’re all a team. We’ve got each other. That’s what matters.”
“Don’t forget your mother’s dinnerware. Those rainbows are important, too.” Colt squeezed Ashley’s fingers. “I get it and I agree.”
“Those plates were her way of accepting us.” He leaned forward and cupped the back of Colt’s head. He sighed. “You make me laugh, cry, want to scream and bend in ways I never thought possible. Because of you, I remembered the joy of Christmas and the honor of being loved. We’ll work it out as long as we’re on the same team.”
“We will.”
“Besides, Wyatt won’t be eight forever. I’d rather we enjoy him and our lives together while we can.” Ashley paused. “I’m not being fatalistic. I’m trying to stop time becaus
e each day my son gets a little older and time moves one hell of a lot faster.”
“I know.” Colt kissed Ashley. “We’ll make this last.” He feathered his mouth over Ashley’s once more. “Speaking of time, it’s just about midnight. Does that mean we can open a few presents?”
He had a feeling he knew where Colt was going with his question. “First, we have to put Santa’s gifts for Wyatt out. I’m not setting the alarm for four in the morning or we’ll all be up then opening gifts. Wyatt will never forgive me if we have any part of Christmas without him.”
“Deal.” Colt didn’t move. “What I’ve got planned gift-wise right now involves stripping you naked and licking you all over. That’s best done one-on-one. You’re the present I asked Santa for.”
“You’re mine too.” Ashley left the couch first. “Let’s get the stuff from the coat closet and put it under the tree. Then we should douse the lights and get to tearing that paper.” He hurried to the hiding spot for Wyatt’s presents. He handed the boxes out to Colt. Once everything was under the tree, he checked the locks and turned off the lights then followed Colt to their bedroom. He didn’t need wrapping paper, presents or Santa. He’d received the best gift of all—a Christmas he’d never forget with the family he loved.
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Cedarwood Pride:
Second Chances in Cedarwood
Megan Slayer
Excerpt
“Who needs a hot dog?” Jack Walters stood behind the grill at his one-room hot dog shop and surveyed the landscape. Fifteen people had packed into the space—ten waiting on orders and five spread among the three tables. People waited outside. He could almost hear the chatter of the customers over the sizzle of the grill.
Jack lived for the blur of action. He loved his shop and serving food to the people of Cedarwood. Truth be told, he liked being needed in the community and he enjoyed the din of conversation. He’d heard so much gossip over his twenty years at the shop. Couples splitting, people cheating on lovers and spouses, people cheating in business, discussing business, politics…he’d heard it all.
Unlike some of the restaurants in Cedarwood, he kept his business rather plain. Sure, there were metal signs from other hot dog shops and old advertising signs on the wall, but he wasn’t going for upscale ambience. He wanted a quick in-and-out type of establishment. Cash only and most customers took their food to go. He’d considered opening at a bigger location, but why mess with what worked?
He spotted Henry at one of the tables. Most people didn’t bother to stop and sit. They wanted quick and convenient. Henry seemed to linger every day, coming in after one in the afternoon, then staying until closing at three.
Jack filled orders, but his mind wandered to Henry. He didn’t know much about the guy beyond that he was a writer. He’d read a few of Henry’s articles in the local paper and seen his work in magazines displayed in the bookstore.
He’d learned the most about Henry—most of which he doubted was true—through the gossip grapevine in Cedarwood. Everyone talked about everyone. Henry lived alone, wrote stories and articles, traveled and didn’t say much. Henry liked order and could be cranky when things didn’t go his way.
Most people got irritated when things didn’t work out. He knew—he’d seen it at the shop. Hot dogs without the right toppings, with the right ones but cold or too hot, or swearing they’d been overcharged. He shook his head. Every hot dog cost exactly three dollars. Condiments were free, but cheese, jalapenos and chili cost an additional fifty cents each. The sodas were two bucks and fries cost a dollar. Easy.
Jack served up another handful of hot dogs, then read through the new orders. He added a new batch to the grill and glanced over at Henry. He wondered how old he was, since no one seemed to discuss that point. He couldn’t be much older than Jack’s forty-five years. Sure, he had some gray hairs on his temples and scattered through his short sandy tresses, but lots of people went gray far before middle age. Hell, he’d started showing grays at twenty-eight. He swore the loss of color came from the stress of the shop.
Maybe it did. Maybe he needed to loosen up. He’d been told he’d relieve stress if he visited a BDSM club, but he wasn’t sure he wanted someone spanking him.
He served up the hot dogs and only a few people were left in the shop. There tended to be a lull at two in the afternoon. People couldn’t seem to remember if his shop was open until two or three, even though he’d kept the same hours since he’d opened the shop twenty years before. The lull always happened at the same time, but the action ticked back up at two-thirty. “I’ve got to rush to get an order in before you close,” they’d say. He didn’t care.
Anna, his lone employee, closed the cash register and joined him at the grill. “That’s the last one for now—Henry’s paid.” She elbowed him. “He’s only asked for one refill.”
“He ordered,” Jack murmured. “All I ask is they buy food if they’re going to linger and he eats here every day. Leave him alone.”
She picked up an onion and one of the larger knives. She chopped the vegetable into small bits. “Just makes me wonder why he hangs out here so much. Think he’s bored?”
“No.” He’d kept an eye on Henry. Every day, Henry brought his notebook with him and jotted in the pages while he ate. Jack scraped the grill down, then lowered the heat. “I’m going to stretch.” He left the spatula in the holder, then rounded the grill. He strode right up to Henry. “Can I refresh your soda for you?”
“Oh.” Henry blushed. “Sure.” He closed the notebook. “Sorry. Got lost in my writing. Am I bothering you?”
“Nope.” He ducked behind the counter long enough to refill the cola, then brought the glass back to Henry. “I’m taking a break. Mind if I sit with you a moment?”
“No. Please, do.” Henry moved his notebook out of the way and gestured to the other chair.
Now that he was right across from Henry, he could really look at him. The grays in his hair worked for him and gave him the look of seriousness without seeming severe. His blue eyes sparkled when he smiled, and Jack swore he had a dimple on the left side. Henry folded his hands on his notebook. Jack liked hands and preferred men with clean ones. Blunt working ones were fine, but he preferred pianist ones. Henry didn’t disappoint. Jack wondered what he’d look like holding a fountain pen. Probably sexy. He suppressed a snort. He barely knew Henry, but he’d already fantasized about him. At least the man was handsome—close-up and far away, too.
“You’re staring at me.” Henry’s blush increased. “Am I wearing mustard on my mouth?”
“No.” Jack averted his gaze. This time, his ears burned. “I’m sorry. I spend so much time behind the counter, and I don’t get much of a chance to talk to the customers. You’re always in here, so I wanted to chat, but I got lost in the comfort of sitting.” Jesus. How ridiculous? The comfort of sitting? He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Henry held out his hand. “I’m Henry Lord. I write travel articles for magazines and I’m a libra. I’m forty-seven and single. I like long walks at sunset and the quaintness of this shop.”
He laughed at Henry’s means to break the tension. “Thank you.” He nodded. “I’m Jack Walters. I own the Hot Dog Shop and I’m not sure which astrological sign I am. Never bothered to look. I’m forty-five and single, too. I spend too much time at the shop and not enough at home.”
“Nice to meet you.” Henry smiled. “Looks like we’re both a bit flawed.”
Jack shrugged. “There’s something to be said for flawed.”
“There is.”
The bell dinged and a group of customers entered the shop. Jack sighed. “Duty calls. Maybe next time we’ll get to chat for more than a few moments.” He winked, then left his seat and resumed his position behind the grill. Of all the times he had to work, it had to be this one, when he wanted to get to know more about Henry. A travel writer. Interesting. He’d barely ventured
out of Ohio. Henry had probably traveled all over the globe. His partner had to be either very forgiving or the travel had led to their breakup.
A thought occurred to him. Henry hadn’t said he was gay, but he’d mentioned he was single. Christ, he had to get his overactive imagination under control. For all he knew, Henry wasn’t gay—just single. All the handsome ones in Cedarwood tended to be straight. Most of the gay men had paired up.
Jack focused on making food and tried to ignore the need to look over at Henry. He’d felt a spark when they’d locked gazes, but Henry seemed shy—not attracted. Jack shook his head. Knowing him, he’d overestimated the spark. Again.
He wanted to be in love. Wanted to be needed. There had to be someone out there for him. Someone who understood he had a business and was required to be there if he wanted to make money. Someone who could love him, despite his tendency to close himself off. He needed a partner. An equal.
Talk about a lot to superimpose on someone. Henry might not be interested in being all those things. Might not want to be any of them.
Jack focused on grilling hot dogs for the two-thirty rush and did his best to ignore Henry.
Why focus on what might not even be possible? Because sometimes the impossible did happen.
Henry opened his notebook, but kept an eye on the crowd. If a few people wanted tables and needed his, he’d leave. He didn’t want to prevent Jack from keeping the patrons happy. He liked the atmosphere at the shop. The Hot Dog Shop was a local watering hole. A gathering place for the folks of Cedarwood to grab a quick bite to eat while discussing the news of the day as they waited.
He liked the look of the metal signs and the simple quality to the restaurant. He got the feeling he belonged there when he walked in. Other restaurants gave the feeling of wanting him there to fill a table for a little while. Jack made him want to come back and linger.
He jotted notes on the pages. His schedule dictated he write the short piece on country living by the end of the month. Easy, since it was only the fifteenth. But Cedarwood wasn’t exactly country living. The town had a slower sense about it, but it wasn’t small like some towns in Ohio. They had a baseball stadium and the theater had been revamped to show movies and for productions. There was now an entire restaurant row area and shops selling everything from knickknacks to books to fabric and home goods. There was even a little grocery store.
