by Chris Scully
“It’s been a while since I’ve had something that powerful between my legs.”
I shook my head in amusement. “We need to work on your lines.”
He handed me his helmet. “Thank you. I had a great time tonight.”
“I’m glad. Me too.”
“Good night, then.” He pressed a chaste kiss to my lips before I could stop him. My breath caught at the brief spark of electricity that flared between us.
“Oh.” Perry sounded equally surprised. He stared at me, eyes glistening in the darkness. With me still seated, we were the same height. Two heartbeats later, he slammed his mouth down on mine and… oh fuck.
Perry’s hands came up to cup my face, his thumbs stroking my beard as he tipped my head back and kissed me like a starving man. I opened to him—why bother fighting it?—and let him take charge. The kiss turned slow and deep, his tongue colliding with mine, sending sharp stabs of need to my cock with each swipe. Shit, if he kissed this good, I couldn’t wait to get horizontal.
I twisted in my seat, trying to get closer, to pull him against me. The spare helmet rolled out from my grasp, forgotten, as I filled my hands with his denim-clad ass. Perry straddled my left leg, ground up against my thigh with a soft moan. His hand slid under my shirt to stroke my stomach before wandering lower to cover my erection. Just the heat from his palm almost sent me over the edge.
I squeezed his cheeks as he humped my leg, hips rutting, little gasps pouring into my mouth.
“I need to stop.” Perry’s harsh breaths fanned my lips as he pulled back to rest his forehead against mine. It was awkward since I still wore my helmet.
He chuckled weakly. “I didn’t expect that. Well, I did, just not so….”
“Yeah,” I croaked. I still hadn’t released my grip on his ass yet. My fingers were refusing to cooperate.
“…explosive,” he finished. I glimpsed a flash of white teeth as he grinned. “Well, then. Maybe you should come in after all.”
I glanced over his shoulder at the house. Dale’s house. Where I’d be with Dale’s husband, in Dale’s bed. My erection softened.
I groaned and released him. “Long day ahead.”
“Rain check, then?”
I nodded, although there was a hard lump in my stomach, and I wasn’t sure about cashing in on that rain check. I shivered as he stepped away and I lost his body heat.
Perry picked up the long-forgotten helmet and handed it to me. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Right.”
“Joel.” He appeared to want to say something, but instead he simply touched my cheek. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Perry.”
I DROVE aimlessly after leaving Perry, letting the wind sting my face and the purr of the Harley calm me down. By the time I returned to my apartment, I’d gotten a handle on my lust, but my stomach was in knots.
The small, sparsely furnished space seemed to mock me tonight. It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford better; I just hadn’t seen the point. When I was working at the Parker, I was hardly here. And since I only rented, I’d never felt the need to spruce it up. It was fine for me, but it couldn’t have been further from Dale and Perry’s beautifully decorated home, and the more time I spent there, the more dismal my apartment seemed when I came back to it.
How could I ever live up to Dale’s standard?
What was I even doing?
I’d promised Dale to look out for Perry, not slip into his bed. Another pang of guilt cramped my stomach. If I’d been hoping to impress Perry, I’d gone about it all wrong. Dale would have taken Perry to a quiet romantic restaurant for dinner, not a tacky light display.
I went to bed, but sleep was a long time coming. My last conscious thought was that it was damned hard competing with a ghost.
Six
The last stage of change involves accepting the situation and starting to build new hopes and aspirations.
“DO YOU know anyone who can use a ten-pound prime rib roast?”
“Huh?” Sleep roughened Perry’s voice, and I pictured him still in bed, hair mussed, stubble lining his jaw. If I hadn’t turned him down last night, I’d be there now, waking up beside him. “It’s only eight a.m. What happened?”
“The Robinsons had to cancel their Christmas dinner. Their daughter has gone into early labor.”
“Oh no.”
“So now I’ve got this mammoth roast in my fridge. Any ideas?” There was silence on the other end of the line. “Perry? You still there?”
“I’m thinking. I haven’t had coffee yet so bear with me.” I heard the rustle of bedclothes, and my dick stirred as I wondered if he slept nude. “Does the chef come with it?”
“If you want him.”
“Oh, I want him. Okay, I’ve got an idea. But I have to make some calls first. Let me get back to you.” He hung up, leaving me alone with my orphaned beef.
Half an hour passed before Perry called me back. “Okay. It’s all arranged. Bring it to my place.”
“Have you suddenly turned carnivore?”
“No, although I have had some cravings for well-aged beef lately.”
I groaned, though a corny joke didn’t stop the burst of pleasure in my gut.
He chuckled. “Yeah, I know that was bad. Look, I’ll fill you in when you get here.”
When I let myself into Perry’s house not long after, it was to find him dancing around the living room with the vacuum cleaner to the sounds of A Motown Christmas. I stopped to watch him shimmy. This was an entirely unexpected side of Perry I was seeing. He executed a pivot and shrieked when he saw me standing there.
“Jesus, you about gave me a heart attack.”
“Sorry.” I grinned, not sorry at all. “You’ve got some moves. I had no idea.”
“Oh, shut up. I was young once.” But he was smiling as he snapped off the vacuum and came toward me. He leaned in to kiss me, but I quickly turned my head so his lips landed on my cheek instead of my lips. I flushed guiltily, trying to pretend that after our call this morning, I hadn’t masturbated to a mental image of him in nothing but a big red bow.
“Merry Christmas,” I stammered. “I come bearing gifts. Will you help me unload?”
Perry narrowed his eyes, looking like he wanted to say something, but I went out to my bike before he could. He followed me out and then silently carried in the bags of groceries, while I handled the cooler I’d strapped to the back, containing the roast.
“Is that it?” he asked.
“I left some things at home, but first I need to get this roast seasoned and into the oven, and then I’ll go back for the rest.”
As I worked, Perry brewed a fresh pot of coffee.
“Care to fill me in now?” I prodded. “What’s this plan of yours?”
“I invited my bereavement group for dinner. Or at least those that didn’t have any plans. So far I’ve got six that said they’d come.”
I gaped at him, not sure it was wise to spend an already depressing holiday with a bunch of grief-stricken strangers.
“What?” he asked.
“Do you think this is a good idea? I mean—”
“Last year, without Dale, was hard enough, but at least I had you and Cassie around. For some this’ll be their first Christmas alone, and I can’t imagine what that must be like. So yeah, I think it’s a good idea.”
I nodded. “You’re right.”
Once the roast was in the oven, we took our coffees out to the patio and went over the menu I’d prepared for the Robinsons. “We can make substitutions if you like, as long as one of us has the ingredients.”
“This looks delicious. You know I love roasted brussels sprouts. And the sweet potato pilaf sounds great.”
“And for those troublesome vegetarians, I’ll do a roasted head of cauliflower.”
“We troublesome vegetarians are grateful. How much do I owe you?”
“Courtesy of the Robinsons’ nonrefundable deposit. They’re still paying me for the
groceries since it was a last-minute cancelation.”
“It still doesn’t seem right.”
“It’s going to a good cause. If it’s okay with you, I’ll head home, shower and change, and then come back to start on the rest of the meal.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing. The client stays out of the kitchen.”
He frowned. “So this is a job?”
Good question. I’d avoided thinking about our changing dynamic too much. “I… don’t know. Frankly, I don’t know much of anything anymore, Perry. I’m kind of lost at the moment.”
“Then we’ll figure it out as we go.” Perry reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “But if I’m not paying you, how can I be the client?” A flash of satisfaction streaked across his face at this argument.
“Did you always gloat like this?” I asked, trapped by his logic.
He laughed. By the time I left, he was already cubing the french loaf for the bread pudding.
Back at my apartment, I quickly assembled my knives, then showered and changed. At the last minute, I bypassed the surfing Santas shirt and chose instead the most sedate outfit I owned—salmon trousers and a blue paisley dress shirt.
On my way out the door, I plucked the rainbow wreath off its hook and tucked it in my saddlebag. Perry’s house could do with a little festive spirit.
He must have had the same idea, because Perry was unloading one of the boxes from the garage when I arrived.
“Don’t worry,” he said when he saw my frown. “I’m not going overboard. It’s only a few decorations. So it looks more like Christmas around here. I’m feeling festive today.”
“You’ve got like a thousand poinsettias—how is that not Christmas?”
“What do you have there?” Perry nodded toward the bag containing the wreath. Immediately I regretted my decision to bring it. Perry’s decorations were all tasteful and classy. My wreath didn’t fit.
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.” He took the bag from me and peered inside.
“You don’t have to use it,” I said quickly. “I didn’t know you were going to put up other decorations.”
“Ah, Joel. It’s the perfect touch. We could use some color around here.” He kissed me on the lips, his eyes filled with a warmth I’d never expected to see. When he looked at me like that, my uncertainties faded; I believed anything was possible.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“To hang this outside.”
“But everyone will see it.”
“Uh, yeah, that’s the idea.”
Perry had been busy in my absence, setting the dining table with the good china and crystal, and as I headed into the kitchen, I couldn’t help but notice that all of Perry and Dale’s photos had disappeared from the console and been replaced with a refreshment station. My chest tightened. What was that about?
“I forgot how much I enjoyed hosting dinner parties,” Perry said as he rejoined me. “Dale was always the big entertainer—the more the merrier as far as he was concerned. But personally, I prefer smaller gatherings. I should have thought of this before.”
“You weren’t ready.”
“No, but I’m getting there.”
With Perry’s help, prep was a snap, and we had everything ready in no time. “You’re a mise en place machine. I should hire you full-time,” I joked.
“You can’t afford me.”
“I could pay you in macaroons.”
He patted his flat belly. “Then I’d have to spend all my time at the gym with Josh just to stay in shape.”
“I wouldn’t want that. But trust me, you have nothing to worry about,” I told him with an appraising glance. “Me, on the other hand….”
“I like your beef. In case you hadn’t noticed last night when I threw myself at you.” He grinned. I laughed. So this was what it was like to spend a real Christmas with people you cared about. Cooking, laughing, and simply being together. My throat grew thick with emotion. This was so much better than being stuck in a stranger’s kitchen watching other people eat. Damn, I was glad the Robinsons’ daughter had gone into labor.
I caught Perry eyeing me several times as we worked. Finally I said, “What?”
“Are we going to pretend last night didn’t happen?”
“No.” I sighed. “But I’m not ready to deal with it yet.”
“I’ll accept that. But tell me this much—if I was anyone else, if I wasn’t Dale’s husband, would you have come inside last night?”
“Yes.”
Perry blinked at my easy admission. “I don’t know if that makes me feel better or not. It’s a start, I guess. It’s good to know that you’re attracted to me at least.”
“I’ve always been attracted to you.” Oops. Too much. But Perry didn’t seem to have noticed my slip.
“Would it be rude to cancel dinner and tie you to my bed instead?” he asked, his eyes eating me up.
“Bondage? Why, Perry, I’m shocked. I suppose you’re going to want me to wear my chaps too.”
He flushed, and I loved it. “You don’t play fair.”
“Does that turn you on? Want me to play bad-boy biker to your preppy collegiate?”
His head tilted to the right. “Is that how you see me?”
“If the alligator fits….” I ran a finger over the embossed logo on his chest. His nipple peaked beneath the woven cotton, and my breath caught.
“Joel,” he gasped.
I grinned and returned to my side of the kitchen. “Weren’t you the one espousing the values of slowing down yesterday?”
“Clearly I was delusional.”
BY FIVE o’clock the house was filled with mouthwatering scents, and the only thing we were missing were the guests.
Perry had disappeared to shower, and he returned wearing a red and green holiday sweater that said Jingle My Bells.
I scowled. Perry wore Izod and Ralph Lauren; he did not wear horrible Christmas sweaters. “That looks ridiculous on you. Is that another gift from your secret Santa?”
“What? I like it.”
“He doesn’t know you at all. It looks like something I’d wear.”
“Exactly.” He grinned triumphantly, leaving me totally perplexed. “And no, it’s not from Santa, so you can stop growling.”
The doorbell rang, announcing the first guest. I stayed in the kitchen as one by one Perry’s friends arrived and began to congregate in the living room.
“Joel,” he hissed as he ducked into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of wine. “Why are you hiding in here? Come and meet everyone.”
“Usually I stay in the kitchen, out of the way….”
“You’re not the help tonight. I thought we decided that.”
“What am I?”
He grinned. “You’re my date.”
My jaw dropped. He was joking, right? But Perry linked arms and dragged me out to perform a quick round of introductions. “This is Joel,” he said as if that was explanation enough. I tried to keep everyone’s names straight.
They were a motley group: Larry was a septuagenarian who had recently lost his wife of nearly fifty years. Hal and Cathy had lost their teenaged daughter in a car accident a couple of years ago. Lynda’s wife was in palliative care now, and she kept surreptitiously checking her phone every five minutes as we chatted. I recalled Perry doing the same thing when Dale was in hospice.
Cameron was an attractive thirty-something widower with sad eyes. He had brought his five-year-old daughter, Trisha, along, and she was curled up quietly on the sofa with a book in her lap, ignoring the adults.
Last to arrive was Carl. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he said as he shook my hand.
Finally?
I looked at Perry, but he evaded my gaze. “Carl is our counselor,” he supplied.
Carl seemed a little young to me to be a grief counselor, but he had a sympathetic face, so I could see why people might find it easy to talk to him.
I noticed that he wore a wedding band although he seemed to be unaccompanied this evening.
“Perry told me about the last-minute change of plans. This is so generous of you.”
“Well, I wish I could take credit, but this was all his idea,” I told him. “I’m just the cook.”
“Let me get you a glass of wine,” Perry offered, putting a hand on Carl’s shoulder and steering him away.
That’s when I noticed Perry wasn’t wearing his wedding ring anymore. The shock jolted through me like an earthquake. It seemed like such a pivotal thing. When had that happened? He must not have worn it last night either—I hadn’t felt it when I’d held his hand.
My scrambled emotions and I retreated to the kitchen where it was safer. I knew food; I knew flavor profiles and spice combinations; I knew how to balance acidity and sweetness. I didn’t know relationships.
Thank goodness for old-fashioned closed-off kitchens. They were so much easier to hide in than the open-concept variety.
I was starting on my mushroom jus for the prime rib when Carl walked in. “Need any help in here?”
“I’ve got it under control, thanks.”
“Well, it smells amazing. I haven’t had a real Christmas dinner in a long time.”
“I hope you enjoy it,” I said brusquely, trying to discourage him from staying. I disliked strangers in my kitchen when I was cooking.
“Perry’s a wonderful man.”
Good God, I didn’t need one more person telling me how great Perry was. “Trust me, I’m well aware.”
“I understand you’ve known each other a long time. And Dale as well.”
“Sounds like you already know a lot about me.” More than he would have learned tonight. Just how long had Perry been talking about me? And why?
“It can be tough,” he said. “A lot of people are hesitant about getting involved with a widower. They feel like they’re stepping into someone else’s shoes, or that they somehow have to compete with a memory….”
“Did Perry send you in here?” I demanded. “Because I don’t need a counseling session.”
