Daniel tossed a roll of paper towels like a football, and Clay caught it. Memories of all the “touch” football they’d played hit him right in the feels. While he wiped up the mess, George came over for more attention. Clay found that itchy spot on his back all dogs had, right above his hips, and gave George a good scratch. George thumped his leg in encouragement.
“You keep doing that and he won’t leave you alone,” Daniel said, watching them.
“I won’t mind.” Clay flashed him a smile. “You know I love dogs.”
“I know.”
Their eyes met again, and when Daniel’s smile faded and he turned away, Clay hastily went back to drying the floor. Once he cleaned the mess and scratched George some more, Clay didn’t know what to say. Daniel was an intelligent man, a borderline genius in some things. He knew if Clay didn’t have a car in this blizzard, then Clay wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Way to go, Fisher. Your surprise visit is an overnighter.
“So… what brings you here?” Daniel used a levered spoon to scoop cookie dough onto a sheet pan. The spoon reminded Clay of the ones they used in the mess hall to serve perfect balls of mashed potatoes. “You just decided to come visit?”
“You know I’ve always wanted to experience one of those magical Gilead Christmases you used to talk about,” Clay joked.
Daniel shot him a look, and instantly Clay regretted his choice of words as their last fight came back to him, sharp and vivid.
“You’ll never invite me to your magical fucking Gilead Christmas, Danny,” I growled. “Wouldn’t want everyone to know you’re a fag.”
“Fuck you, Clay!”
“Fuck you! You’re nothing but a coward!”
Clearing his throat, Clay tried again, wondering if Daniel was remembering the same thing. “I should’ve messaged you, but….”
He couldn’t finish his thought as he suddenly felt eighteen and nervous, like the first time he’d laid eyes on then Specialist Daniel Millhouse. Clay’s desire for the older, more mature man—all of twenty to Clay’s eighteen years—had consumed him. That hair, that perfect ass, and his commanding, oh-so-serious demeanor. Clay just wanted to hear him laugh, to loosen him up, but Daniel had made him so nervous it took him weeks to even strike up a conversation.
That same giddy nervousness fluttered in his stomach now, coupled with a heavy sense of regret and loss, leaving Clay off-kilter. He joined Daniel in the kitchen and took a seat on a barstool across from him. The rug bordered with cute black bears on the kitchen floor surprised him. Daniel used to hide his playful side.
Time changes us all.
“You didn’t message me because you thought I’d say no,” Daniel surmised, not glancing up from his task. He had several cookie sheets out, two jars of sprinkles, and a bowl of white frosting, all of it placed as neatly as if he were on a cooking show.
Well, not everything changed. Daniel was still as tidy as a new recruit.
Though nervous, Clay was not that shy eighteen-year-old boy anymore. Both terrified and exhilarated to be here, he played it cool but honest. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
“I don’t think I would’ve said no,” Daniel said after a contemplative moment.
More tension melted like the snow in his hair. “Oh.”
Chapter Three
DANIEL WASN’T lonely.
At least he didn’t think he was.
Friends and family lived nearby, and he loved being the mayor of Gilead as much as the town loved him. No one had even run against him in the last election. Daniel had a good life in Gilead, the one he’d always hoped for as a kid growing up in that small studio apartment above River Rats, a long-gone bar in Gilead. Sure, his life in Gilead had its hiccups—like Mom dying or Tracy moving away and taking their son—but all in all, he was happy in his little log cabin.
But aside from George and the occasional visits from his son, Jared, he had no one to talk with at night. No one to share his day with.
That’s why he’d caved and opened a Facebook account.
He’d avoided social media, assuming it was nonsense for kids, but Jared insisted Daniel was missing out on so much with friends and family… and apparently old lovers.
When Daniel had seen the friend request from a name out of his past—a name and a face he’d never quite let go—he’d accepted without hesitation.
Then Clay had sent him a private message.
Daniel had stewed over how to reply to the simple but loaded Hi.
After they broke the ice, the chatting had felt so natural, so easy. In a matter of a week, Daniel’s first action of the day—even before coffee!—had become checking his phone to see if Clay had messaged him or left another silly emoji sticker. It had been exciting to exchange playful banter with Clay, flirtatious even. But that had been from behind the safety of the internet. Clay had mentioned getting coffee, but Daniel had changed topics, not sure if he was ready for a face-to-face.
Yet now he’s in my home.
Daniel should be angry his ex-boyfriend had shown up at his doorstep uninvited, but he’d been too shocked at first, and now… well?
He didn’t know what to think.
Hand shaking, Daniel scooped another dollop of sugar cookie dough onto the sheet. His ex-wife always did cutouts with Jared, and though a nice tradition, he found it illogical to waste time rolling out dough when a round cookie tasted the same as a reindeer cookie. He’d been craving milk and cookies all day. Not the healthiest dinner for a man who should be watching his waistline, but it was a holiday, and calories didn’t count on Christmas.
“I feel bad putting you out like this,” Clay offered.
Damn, his voice is different. Rougher, more mature… sexy.
“It’s fine,” Daniel assured him, looking up, then hastily back down.
Clay had totaled his car, which meant he wasn’t going anywhere tonight, not in this weather. Daniel supposed Clay could sleep on the couch or….
A flush of warmth ripped through him, and he swallowed hard. He glanced up only to find Clay studying the woodwork of the open ceiling. Daniel stared at his exposed neck, his pulse quickening. When Clay swallowed, his Adam’s apple shifted, and Daniel had to bite back a moan. Then Clay glanced his way, and Daniel looked back down again, his face warming.
Concentrate on the cookies. Don’t keep staring at him!
Even after all these years, Clay was still the sexiest man he’d ever laid eyes on.
Clay had been the first man Daniel had ever found attractive. He’d always thought of himself as straight, but when it came to Clay, his body and heart had known what his mind hadn’t. The tension of impending war with Iraq and fearing every day their company would be shipped off to die had a way of making the big things in civilian life—like sexual orientation—so petty and insignificant. He might not have shown such bravery under different circumstances, but Daniel hadn’t hesitated to give in to his new, unexplored desires.
And the first time Clay kissed him, Daniel felt right at home.
Their love had started with what people nowadays called a “bromance.” But the pushing and wrestling for fun, laughing, and play-punching had all been foreplay for the main act, which had led to the best three years of Daniel’s life. Clay had lit a passion inside Daniel, awakening an animalistic urgency never tapped into before—or since. Yes, he’d had great sex in his life, but being with Clay had been so very, very different.
Primal and desperate. Urgent.
Clay had always been naturally impetuous—still is, if tonight is any indicator—and his sex drive had been unquenchable. He’d spend days finding unique places for them to fool around when they weren’t on leave. Though usually rushed, the sex had always been so intensely intimate. Like they were connecting on more than a mere carnal level. Two men, one soul. Two sides to one coin.
It should’ve scared him how much he’d loved Clay.
But it hadn’t.
Not once.
A timer dinged, drawing Da
niel back to the now.
“So you wrecked your car?” Daniel clarified as he checked the cookies in the oven. They were baked to perfection, and his mouth watered for the treat his waistline didn’t need. He swapped cookie sheets, then faced Clay once more, trying to mask his anxiousness. Daniel hated not being in control.
And no one had ever made him lose control like Clay Fisher.
“Yeah, I lost cell service and was trying to get my GPS back. With all the open fields, the drifts were so bad I couldn’t see the road. Couldn’t see twenty feet in front of me, actually. Then all of a sudden, I’m not on the road, and I swerved, then hit a tree. If that guy hadn’t stopped….” He trembled, shaking his head.
Still wet, Clay probably shivered not only from the cold, but from a fear of what could’ve been. Not that he would admit it. Clay always played it tough, hiding his vulnerable side. The Clay who suffered from nightmares and insecurities brought on by a childhood of abandonment and abuse. He’d never even had a real Christmas until he was a teenager.
Feeling like a bad host—though, in all honesty, he was a surprise host—Daniel offered, “Do you need a towel? To dry off?”
Those familiar but startling blue eyes met his, and Clay nodded wordlessly.
Disconcerted by this entire situation, he hurried into the half bath.
Was this happening? Or had he fallen asleep reading another gay romance novel?
Taking a calming breath and getting his head together, he grabbed one of his green towels with moose on it. Tracy and Jared said the towels were tacky—just like his bear rugs—because Ohio was flat as a pancake, and there were no moose or bears in Gilead. Of course, they’d also told him it was silly to build a log cabin because he didn’t live in the mountains. But Daniel thought the woodland creature accents looked cool, and he’d always wanted a log cabin.
Daniel returned to the kitchen and handed Clay the towel.
“Thanks. It’s cold out there,” Clay said.
When their fingertips brushed, Daniel jerked his hand back, not all that startled by his body’s reaction. Clay had a powerful effect on him. Always had.
Daniel tried not to stare when Clay rubbed his scalp dry, but his eyes had a mind of their own. Clay’s high-and-tight glistened salt-and-pepper, heavy on the salt. Time had roughened his baby face, but rather than making him look old or weathered, he looked rugged.
And sexy as hell.
“Want some coffee?” Daniel said to avoid blurting, Damn the years treated you well!
“Sure, I’m freezing.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t know about the storm. It’s been all over the news.”
Clay grinned. “You know me. I never think things through first.”
He chuckled. “Since you’re here for the evening, do you want to help me make cookies? It’s sort of a cliché Christmas thing to do, but….”
“Sure.” The grin splitting Clay’s face was electric, and Daniel’s belly fluttered.
Daniel had not forgotten Clay’s toothy grin and those dimples. Back during Desert Shield, the dusting of a youthful beard had hidden his dimples, much to Daniel’s chagrin. But now Clay was clean-shaven, his cheeks a little pink from the elements. The long lean line of his throat, his solid Adam’s apple that bobbed when he talked—all exposed for Daniel’s viewing pleasure. He’d always had a thing for Clay’s neck. Weird, but he couldn’t help it. Clay had stayed in great shape too, unlike the twenty pounds Daniel needed to lose.
Making cookies isn’t helping that! And you were probably going to eat them all yourself!
Well, George would’ve gotten his share. But still….
And here Clay was, looking like some sort of body-building Daddy.
Once Daniel got Clay a mug of coffee to warm up, he busied himself placing the fresh cookies on a cooling rack.
“What? No cutouts?” Clay said, startling Daniel with how close he stood.
He hadn’t realized Clay had come up beside him. Swallowing hard, he glanced over his shoulder and up. Clay was bigger, wider than he used to be. And damn, the gray hair looked good on him.
Daniel managed to sound calm, though Clay’s nearness made his heart race and his skin warm. “Nah, a cookie’s a cookie.”
“But it’s Christmas, Danny. Shouldn’t we make Santa or candy-cane cookies?”
“I just wanted cookies.” Call me Danny again, please! “No need for theatrics.”
“Theatrics? C’mon, you gotta have cookie cutters around here somewhere.” The hopeful glint in his expression tugged at Daniel’s heart.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Come on, Danny.”
And then, just like old times, Clay took over, tossing Daniel’s practical plan out the window and making everything more complicated.
But definitely more fun.
With a mismatched collection of cookie cutters, and Clay armed with the rolling pin and leaving a flour mess all over the counters and floor—which George happily licked up—soon they had a tray of hearts, moons, and trees ready to go into the oven. Clay insisted Daniel add food coloring to the frosting, one bowl of green and another of red, which turned out pink. Though he didn’t think it necessary, it was impossible to say no to Clay.
Especially with those dimples and that sexy throat, and the way Clay called him Danny with his now-rougher voice.
You’re hopeless!
They chatted as they worked, and it flowed as easily as talking online had. Daniel told him how he became Gilead’s mayor after getting involved with the sidewalk committee, and how he paid his bills by selling insurance. Being mayor of a tiny town wasn’t a full-time gig—mostly just organizing events and arguing with the village administrator.
After Clay teased him for being a pencil pusher, Clay told him how he worked on an oilrig one summer, and that he still listened to hair bands, mostly when he worked out—that image won’t be leaving my mind anytime soon! Sadly, both of Clay’s parents had passed away, and no, Clay had never married. Daniel didn’t ask Clay if he was out. Instinctively, he just knew that he was.
Feeling a bit more in control of his hormones and the situation as they chatted, Daniel smiled and asked questions as Clay talked. Yes, they had known each other well at one time, but there was so much they’d missed.
“How’d you end up in Cleveland?” Daniel asked.
“For a job. I never went back to school after I got out. Moved around quite a bit, and I landed an HVAC apprenticeship when I lived in Jersey. Been in that union eighteen years now. You know I was always better with my hands than books,” Clay said as he rolled out another ball of dough.
Oh Lord, do I know how good you are with your hands.
Clay selected a moon cutter and began carefully cutting more cookies. “I moved to Cleveland this past summer for a foreman position with Boson Adaptable Controls. I always knew you’d end up back here in Gilead. Never met a guy who loved his hometown as much as you.”
“This town and that river are in my blood.” Daniel grinned, but it faded as fast as it came. Clay had always wanted to see Daniel’s “perfect hometown,” as he used to call it, but Daniel had never invited him. But he’s here now. “You ever water ski?”
“Not with one fake knee and one bad one that probably needs replaced.”
“You like boating, though? Fishing?” he asked, envisioning the two of them on his boat, out on the Shiloh River, drinking beers and casting for whatever wasn’t scared away when George jumped into the river after ducks.
“Oh, I love being on the water,” Clay said with a smile.
Nodding, Daniel concentrated on the cookies, not how that smile made his dick stir.
It had been more than a few years since he’d been with a man. Hell, it had been more than a few years since he’d been with anybody. His day job and mayoral duties took up all of his time. Besides, he didn’t relish his personal life being the subject of the local gossips again. Though Tracy had run her mouth about Daniel being gay after the divorce,
only a handful of people had ever asked him if it was true. He’d replied honestly and said, “no, I’m bi,” but most people didn’t appreciate the difference and figured Gilead had a gay mayor.
They’d feel justified if I ever had a boyfriend again.
Daniel’s gaze returned to Clay, and his heart leapt with hope.
“We should be playing Christmas music, don’t you think?” Clay said, startling Daniel from his thoughts.
“Sure, I can do that,” Daniel offered, retrieving his iPod. Feeling festive and glad for the company, Daniel found his Christmas playlist and turned it on. Daniel was no stranger to Clay’s less-than-stellar childhood, and he hoped that since they’d been apart, Clay had found better holiday memories than the ones Daniel knew about.
Judging by the smile and the happy gleam in eyes that had once been so haunted, Daniel felt reasonably sure he had.
Clay sang along to “Feliz Navidad” as he dribbled yellow sprinkles on top of the green hearts and pink trees he’d iced.
“Pink trees?” Daniel questioned with a frown.
“Yup.” Then he gave Daniel that sideways smirk, which made Daniel long to kiss it off his face.
This man!
Clay might frustrate him, even still, but in the best way.
“You know,” Daniel said. “I’m glad you came.”
Clay paused, a heart cookie in one hand and a knife covered in green frosting in the other. “Yeah, me too.”
Daniel busied himself properly icing the next batch of cookies—green trees with the yellow sprinkles and pink hearts with red sprinkles. “I thought we’d meet up for dinner or a drink sometime. But this was probably better.”
“And a bit more spontaneous. I know you hate spontaneous.”
“Hey, now,” Daniel said, chuckling. “It’s been a while since you’ve seen me. I can be spontaneous.”
Clay raised his chin in challenge. “Oh yeah? What was the last spontaneous thing you did?”
“I bought a brand-new Jeep Wrangler. Fully-loaded.”
“Did you drive around to more than one car lot?”
“Of course I did. That’s how you get a good price. And I had to find a green one.”
Welcome Home, Soldier Page 3
