Unbroken Hearts

by K-lee Klein

  JT was still a precious lump under the covers, just the way Brett left him. The blankets were pulled up over his head, since Brett’s California princess didn’t like the sun shining in his eyes after a late—and very active, if Brett did say so himself—night.

  In truth, Brett had left the blinds up on purpose, but only because there had been a light dusting of snow the night before. He liked the way it danced over the white twinkly lights he’d put around the deck for the holidays and was seriously considering leaving up all year round. He thought the lights were romantic, and they struck the perfect chord inside his heart when he held JT in his arms in the hot tub. In short, his rep as an old-fashioned romantic was intact. Plus, in bed, JT always ended up burrowing his face in Brett’s neck before the sun rose anyhow, and Brett wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  He corralled Whiz before he could make his usual running leap from the doorway and onto the bed. The pup had grown so much in the last while that Brett wasn’t sure he’d be able to pack him around so easily for much longer. A gentle finger to his nose and a soft coo tamped his panting exuberance down a notch. He looked festively dressed for the occasion in his new red bandanna that neither Brett nor JT would admit had been their idea. The same could be said of Whiz’s other accessories tucked away in his own special drawer too. Somehow, the pup had become more materialistic than his humans.

  Whizzy had developed a rep of his own. He’d become quite a handful in his teenage years. There’d even been more than a time or two that old Ray had threatened to drop him down the road when he’d been making a nuisance of himself. Of course, only an hour later Brett would catch the old man sneaking the pup a morsel or two under the table.

  Brett figured that’s what it would be like to have kids—so frustrated you could spit one minute but still loving the stuffing out of them the next. He remembered his mama doing exactly that many times over when he was growing up. He supposed that hadn’t changed too much either.

  When JT groaned and messy blond hair appeared from the end of his flattened blanket fort, Brett was reminded that he had his own sort of youngster right there in front of him. And it was high time to jumpstart the holiday celebrations.

  “Merry Christmas, Darlin’,” JT said with a sweet, slow-curving grin. His face was sleep-creased and flushed, his curls sticking up every which way like a child who’d never seen a brush in his life. It was adorable. His eyes were bright and sparkling with too much mischief for the time of day. Brett couldn’t imagine a more beautiful sight.

  “Hey!” He feigned objection as he let Whiz wiggle to the floor. “Isn’t that my line, kid?”

  “I reckon you said there ain’t nothin’ we ain’t gonna share anymore, cowboy. What’s yours is mine and vice versa. Darn tootin’.”

  Brett squinted hard, taking a few heartbeats to answer… because what in God’s green earth had JT just said? “Why the hell are you talking like that?”

  “Whoa little doggie. Jus’ tryin’ to fit in is all, y’all.”

  “Oh mother of….” Brett rolled his eyes so hard it made him dizzy. He vaulted onto the bed, tackling JT and startling Whiz in the process. The pup barked, then tried to burrow his way under the blankets. It was a good thing they hadn’t intended on him being any kind of watchdog because he was even scared of his own darn shadow, at least when it came to loud noises and anything bigger than a chicken.

  Brett flattened JT against the mattress, a big old whoosh of breath bursting from between his lips as Brett disguised a chuckle with a fake growl. He used the element of surprise, or at least breathlessness, to grab both of JT’s wrists and hold them hostage above his head.

  “I need you to promise me something, and this is very important to me, Campbell,” he said, calling on his compact but greater strength to combat JT’s bigger frame.

  JT eyed him with amused suspicion, gentle brown eyes gleaming, his bottom lip puffed out in a pout. The edge of his mouth curled up as he spoke. “When’d you get so dang heavy, ya goldarn varmint?”

  A groan of frustration slipped up Brett’s throat. “That right there,” he said inches from JT’s lips. “That thing you’re trying to do—”

  “I ain’t doing nothin’, pardner.”

  Brett kissed him before the last word slipped off his tongue. Kissed him so hard JT’s head disappeared into the pillow. Kissed him until he thought he’d never breathe again, licking into his mouth, his teeth clacking against JT’s. Brett thought he was doing a pretty good job of setting him straight, but what did the kid do? He laughed into Brett’s mouth, lips vibrating against Brett’s, tongue tickling, and the sensation rattling goddamn shivers down Brett’s spine and into his belly.

  “What were you saying?” JT teased, cocky-attituded and too damn beautiful for his own good.

  Brett moaned out loud when JT shifted his hips, bowing his back and spreading his legs until their groins pressed together. He was as big a flirt as Brett had ever had the pleasure of knowing, not that he minded a whole lot, of course.

  “That accent you’re trying to use,” Brett managed to squeak between gritted teeth and lips itching to kiss. “You know, that demented country thing?”

  “Yeah,” JT murmured as he arched to press a trail of soft kisses along Brett’s jaw. “You like it, cowboy? Does it make you wanna go roll in the hay or get laid in the—”

  Brett shifted so he was straddling JT’s hips, securing his wrists again with one hand and settling the other over JT’s mouth. “Jesus Christ. You been watching really bad old movies or has Ray been teaching you how to drive me fucking crazy?”

  JT batted long dark lashes over wide innocent eyes. A barely noticeable tug at the corner of his mouth gave away his attempt. He managed to look celestial and sexy as hell at the same time. But it didn’t matter none; Brett was not going to fall for his tricks.

  “Stop distracting me.” He paused to organize his thoughts while JT continued his damn grinding and batting. “I love you with my last breath, but if you use that horrible accent thingamajig again, you’ll be sleeping with the horses.”

  “Better than sleeping with the fishes.” JT grinned from ear to ear before busting into giggles more suited to a grade school girl. “Too far, huh?”

  Brett didn’t even try to control the grin that threatened to crack his skull wide open. He tapped the end of his nose and swept fluffy curls off JT’s forehead—the same curls that made him look so misleadingly angelic. JT smirked up at him as Brett’s thumb stroked over his temple. He could never look away when the kid was like this—laid out under him, all full lips and wide, attentive eyes, a mixture of love and challenge. JT managed to get under his skin more and more each day, in only the best way. Brett would never have thought that possible if he hadn’t been living it himself.

  “You’re lucky I love you so much.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He pressed their foreheads together, cradling one side of JT’s face, thumb brushing his lips. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

  He spent a few precious moments just kissing his fella—slow and tender, sloppy and thoughtful. Christmas was meant for life and love after all. And with JT at his side, Brett wasn’t afraid to take on either one. Holidays had always brought out the hopeless romantic in him with a huge helping of sappy endearments and grabby hands.

  “You want me to pull you back under the covers, or do we really have to get up?” JT tipped his face up, rubbing his nose to Brett’s and breaking into Brett’s reverie. He ghosted their lips together.

  “That’s a mighty fine offer—” Brett started but stopped, his words trapped in milk-chocolate eyes and a spinning heart.

  JT took full advantage, slowly licking his lips, then flashing a devil-may-care grin. He was relentless. “I suppose there’s a but in that sentence.”

  Brett snorted, matching JT’s look with a sneaky one of his own. He slid a finger over JT’s bristly jawline, pressing harder until his head tipped back. He licked a trail from JT’s collarbone to the curve of hi
s jaw, his breath quickening when JT shuddered with a full-body groan.

  “But…,” he continued when his tongue was a little less busy. “I’ve got a bird to stuff and Christmas breakfast to make for my man.”

  “You’re just a little boy when it comes to Christmas, aren’t you?” JT yawned and stretched, rubbing his hips against the inside of Brett’s thighs.

  Brett momentarily considered the schedule he’d set for the day, but he refused to be distracted from his plans, at least for now. Instead, he pushed off the bed so he was hovering over JT. Truth be told, he did feel like a child on Christmas morning, and being that it was in fact Christmas morning, there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with that. Except it was more than that. It was waking up with a full heart, the most beautiful, caring man in the world snuggled at his side.

  It was getting up early so JT could sleep in, watching Whiz chase the horses behind the safety of the paddock fence on a gusty December morning. It was a little bit of real goddamn snow on Christmas Eve and being thankful for having a renewed spirit that had taken him years to find again, a spirit that had songs swimming ’round his head that weren’t all full of doom and gloom anymore.

  It was feeling full and complete from head to toe and everywhere in between. Dammit, he was just happy.

  Of course JT had to interrupt his joyful buzz. “What’s that thing on your head?” He wrinkled his nose in the way that made Brett want to lick it, so he did.

  “It’s a Santa hat,” he said, rubbing Eskimo kisses against JT’s warm skin. “Thanks for noticing.”

  The kid snickered and tried to pull away from the tickling caresses. “And you’re wearing it why?”

  “Because Santa comes on Christmas. Don’t you California boys know anything that ain’t about surfing or Hollywood?”

  “Cram it, Taylor. The most important question is, where would Santa like to come. There are a few options, you know.”

  Brett gasped in mock horror. “Who the hell are you and what have you done with the love of my life? The holidays may make me sappy, but they make you damn horny, don’t they?”

  “No. That’s all you.” JT reared up to kiss him again, manhandling Brett to the side so he could sit up. “Now seriously. What’s with the hat? I don’t remember you wearing one last year.”

  Brett shrugged, adjusting the fluffy white fake fur brim so it sat lower on his forehead. “Things were still new then. I didn’t want to scare you off with my eccentricities. Or maybe I’m just having a bad hair day today.”

  “You mean your weirdness? That was pretty obvious from the start.”

  “You’re a little shit, but you ain’t gonna throw any shade on me today, kid.” Brett chuckled when JT’s eyes widened.

  “Oh my God. You did not just—where did you get that from?”

  “That drag queen show you got me hooked on, dammit.” Brett might have become attached to a show he’d never even realized existed, let alone expected to enjoy. He’d been around the world at least twice, met a lot of different people with a lot of different lifestyles, but those dang drag queens just cracked him the fuck up with their sarcasm and wit and, yeah, shade.

  He cleared his throat while JT gazed lovingly at him. “You know it’s Christmas, right? Santa may have come to visit last night, but you need to get the hell up to find out.”

  With a one-shouldered shrug, the brightness in JT’s eyes wavered. “I don’t have a lot of good Christmas memories,” he said. He tugged the end of Brett’s hair, winding the strands around his finger. “Until now.”

  “Don’t tell me your mama and daddy didn’t celebrate the holidays.”

  JT rolled his eyes and pulled harder on the strands. “First of all, I have a mother and father, not a mama and daddy, and yeah, we did have Christmas. I told you that at Halloween. We went for our yearly visit to church to keep up appearances, got dressed up to impress the neighbors and relatives, then had dinner with just the three of us looking at each other bored or probably pissed off. Unfortunately, Santa didn’t know my address when I was a kid though.”

  Brett grunted his disgust. He reached for JT’s hand, pressing a kiss to his palm, then flattening it to his chest. “Those people should be charged with child abuse. I’m glad you had your granny to love you.”

  “She did what she could. At least I have you to indulge me now,” JT said as he leaned to nibble Brett a little more. “And I might even prefer kissing you in this hat since the brim doesn’t try to poke my eye out.”

  With a snicker, Brett nipped at JT’s bottom lip. He always tasted so damn good, morning breath and all. It must be love. “Don’t get used to it, Darlin’. It’s just a short visit.”

  JT snuggled up against Brett, and Brett took the attention and ran with it. He wrapped him tight in his arms, nuzzled the top of his head, buried his nose deep, getting lost in JT’s scent. But he wanted more, turkey and breakfast be damned.

  With one expert and practiced twist, he flipped JT to his belly. The rumpled sheets were kicked away before he flattened himself on top of JT’s mostly naked body. JT was solid and warm beneath him, stuttered laughter suddenly replaced with breathless need when Brett pressed the hardness behind his zipper against JT’s backside.

  “A kid at Christmas, hmm? I’ll show you how big a kid I really am,” Brett growled into the nape of JT’s neck. He dipped his head, skimming butterfly kisses over JT’s shoulders, then down the long line of his spine, lavishing attention on each notch of his spine.

  JT shifted and moaned, one hand reaching back to grab at Brett’s hair. “We could’ve been celebrating the holidays much earlier. Why didn’t you wake me up before? You must have been up at the crack of dawn, cowboy.”

  Brett dragged his bottom lip around the side of JT’s neck, burying his fingers in soft curls. He urged JT to lift his head before latching on to that sensitive spot just under his jaw. “Nope, you’re up late. It’s already nine.”

  “What?” JT gaped and whimpered, his words more than a little breathy when he spoke. “You should have woke me up. Oh fuck, I love it when you do that.” He cocked his head farther to the side as Brett grazed teeth, then tongue, over the mark he’d sucked into JT’s skin. “I could have helped with the chores.”

  “Did all my chores, thank you very much, and I even started the coffee,” Brett said with a nip to JT’s ear.

  Truth be told, Brett had been happy to let JT sleep. The morning was crisp and clear when he and Whiz had trotted outside. The kind of freshness that didn’t freeze the end of your nose but was cold enough to see your breath, and just right for making rare Texas snow hang around long enough to make the trees real pretty-like for Christmas Day.

  “Besides,” he said between kisses. “You were a little feisty last night. Thought you might need a little extra shut-eye.”

  JT’s chuckle was almost swallowed up by his pillow. He turned his head then, reaching back to slide long fingers across Brett’s jaw. “Feisty sounds like something Millie would say.”

  “You prefer horny?”

  “Only if you’re going to do me with that hat on.”

  Brett nodded with a laugh. He rubbed slow circles with his tongue and lips down JT’s backbone again, trailing fingers and mouth lower with each rotation. “I’d be much obliged. You’re going to be the death of all my plans, aren’t you?”

  JT writhed against him, head tipping back suddenly. “Did you hear that?”

  “What?” Brett asked. He stayed true to his task but listened carefully. “No.”

  “Sounded like something fell—where’s Whiz?”

  “Oh shit!”

  Brett was off the bed in a flash, leaving the warmth of JT’s body for something far more urgent. He flew down the stairs so fast he was lucky he didn’t break his neck or anything else important. “Whiz!” he hollered before he reached the bottom. He suspected it was too little, too late.

  “Dammit, Whizzy!” he growled as JT stepped up beside him. He was still in his underwear, something Brett would
surely have taken advantage of had the situation been a little different.

  The family room was in total disarray, the meticulously chosen and decorated Christmas tree dejectedly bent over one of the leather sofas, a mess of needles scattered on the floor. The golden Christmas star JT and Brett had picked out at the country market not a week before was in ruins, only three of the five arms having made it through the ordeal. Silver and blue garlands fluttered on the floor, torn apart like some tinsel machine had vomited all over the room and the red felt tree skirt was all bunched up to one side, hiding whatever mess was underneath.

  And sitting pretty right in the middle of the disaster zone, one silver garland draped over his back, was a panting, tongue-flopping, tail-wagging, very pleased with himself Whiz. A one-man… one-dog wrecking ball.

  Brett lunged forward, grabbing Whiz by the collar, firm but careful, and receiving a thorough face-washing for his troubles. “Darnit, Whiz. Just what the hell you got against this tree, huh?”

  JT cupped Brett’s shoulder when he stood up again. He glided gentle fingers over Brett’s back and down his ass before moving away.

  “Did you check the tree when you got up?” he asked as he bent to gather some of the debris. And that’s exactly what the previously glorious room looked like: a heap of junk thanks to the precocious mutt.

  “Of course I checked the goddamn tree,” Brett spat, his jaw so tight he could barely speak. He shuffled Whiz to his hip, grabbing the Santa hat and slamming it to the ground—as hard as anyone could actually slam down a fluffy piece of fabric. “He was in our room all night, remember?”

  “Whoa back, cowboy,” JT said.

  “You’re not even saying that right. Jesus.”

  JT dropped the destroyed decorations into a pile before rising to wrap around Brett’s waist, and well, Brett just let him. The kid’s chin stabbed into the junction of his shoulder and neck, and he rubbed it against Brett to get his attention.

  “It’s not the end of the world, and, unfortunately, not the first time this week.”