Christmas Miracles of a Recently Fallen Spruce (3 page)

Logan closed what little distance there was and pressed his partly open lips on mine.

A groan escaped, causing me to accidently breathe into his mouth.

Instead of pulling back, Logan increased the pressure. His body shifted a little, the curve of his heavy chest muscles pressing against my arm. His lips were soft and warm, and pleasantly dry. His tongue darted into my mouth, slightly touching my own before he pulled back once more.

“Still okay, Paxton? I know you’re a planner. Don’t wanna freak you out.” There was definitely teasing behind his voice, but also genuine care, which made it so much better.

I nodded, unable to speak. I never would have planned on this in a million years. It wasn’t possible, and it, for certain, meant I was freezing to death buried under a foot of snow and having the best dream of my life as I faded away.

And there would be no complaining from me.

Then a thought hit me, and I let out a nearly agonized groan.

Logan pulled further back, looking wary. “What? I’m sorry if I misread—”

“No. It’s not that.” There was definitely a whine in my tone. I motioned toward my backpack that had been shoved down toward our feet. “I’m not as prepared as you think. I didn’t dream of this happening. I’m not exactly equipped to do this safely.”

It took him a second to understand my meaning, then his grin returned, and he leaned back in, his voice all heat and sex. “That’s okay. There’s plenty of other things I’d like to do to you, and if we stall out, we can always channel the spirit of your Horny Elf gifts.” He leaned down and kissed me again.

Maybe I was afraid Logan would come to his senses or that I’d freeze to death out in the snow before this delusion came to an end, but whatever it was, I pushed him away lightly.

Hurt crossed his face.

I moved to a seated position before he could respond. “Sorry, I’ve been dying to do this all night.” I reached out and undid the three buttons at the top of his waffle shirt. “Please take that off.”

His smile returned, but was blocked from view as he pulled the shirt over his head.

Again I groaned. Pathetic or not. “Holy shit.”

I was dying. No doubt. Buried under the snow by the recently fallen spruce. And it was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

I reached out and smoothed my fingers over the rust-hued chest hair that covered the rock-solid planes of his chest and stomach.

“You do sit-ups, huh?”

He laughed, then pushed his lips on mine once more, his hands moving expertly at the fastenings of my layers of clothes.

W
HO
KNOWS
how much time passed before either of us spoke again. At some point, Logan looked up from where he’d been repaying my anatomy for being restrained for so long. His lips were glistening and swollen in the cliché porn star way. And his voice made me groan again. “Merry Christmas, Paxton.”

“Y
OU
SURE
you don’t want to come in? We’ll have breakfast ready within the hour.”

I glanced over Logan’s shoulder at his brother’s charming log cabin.

Though what little sleep I’d gotten had been spent wrapped in Logan’s massive arms, I’d woken in a state of melancholy.

I’d realized that there’d been a bit of Christmas Eve magic intermingled in the snowfall last night. It was the only explanation of how a ten and a five could add up to the explosive equation we’d solved. And while there wasn’t a minute I would change, it hurt a bit to think it was a one-time deal.

Sure, Logan was offering to have me spend Christmas morning with his family. That would be easy to read into. A lovely fantasy to allow myself to get lost in for another hour or so. However, it was obvious Logan was simply being nice. He’d demonstrated that quality in spades that morning as he helped pack up the tent and assisted me in walking the remaining distance to my Jeep, even though my ankle wasn’t hurt nearly as badly as it had seemed the few hours before.

If I let the fantasy continue, it would only hurt and wipe away what magic there had been for a little while.

“No, I need to get back to my place. I’d be behind in the remaining preparations for the party tonight if I hung around.”

I swear he looked disappointed.

“Well, I think that was my favorite Christmas Eve of all time, Paxton. Thank you.” Logan opened the passenger door and slipped out of the Jeep, then turned back to look at me once more. “I can only imagine the Horny Elf gifts that will show up tonight.”

My heart ached a little as he shut the door and moved to step away.

A flash of what would happen if Logan simply walked into his brother’s house and I drove away to check off all the lists I had waiting tore through my mind.

Nothing. Nothing would happen.

But what if…?

What if there was a chance.

Sure, more than likely, nothing would still happen.

But what if…?

I rolled down the passenger window, leaning across the middle console. “Hey, Logan.”

He turned back, a smile playing on his lips. “Yeah?”

I rifled through the drop drawer, pulled out a rectangular piece of cardstock, and extended it to him. “Here. This is my business card. It has my address on it. You’re more than welcome to see what Horny Elf gifts show up in person if you like.”

Logan took it, glancing at the card. He started to answer, but I cut him off, not wanting to hear the reasons he might use to decline.

“No pressure. Just if you get a little stir crazy and need to get out for a bit. It’s not like you can go play on the snowmobile.” I started to roll up the window, suddenly embarrassed and regretting my display of neediness. I put the Jeep in gear and began to drive away before the window finished closing. “Either way, have a Merry Christmas!”

Logan called out something, probably wishing me a Merry Christmas in return, but I kept going.

F
OR
THE
first time in my life, I found myself wishing that I’d not checked off quite as much from the to-do lists the day before. I’d left myself a maximum of two hours of work in order to be ready by five.

The night before kept replaying on a continuous loop in my mind. The beauty of Logan’s naked body, ridiculously perfect. The rugged masculinity that had captivated me so completely the night before now taunted me. If only it had been Logan’s looks that were perfect, if it only had ended there. But he was kindergarten teacher, kind, sarcastic, affectionate. Too good to be real. Like it had all been a giant joke. A once in a lifetime experience that I could never attain again.

It was a mix of pleasurable fantasy and annoying ache. I hadn’t felt this level of insecurity since high school. I was disgusted with myself. Which only made it worse.

I ended up repeating many of the jobs on the lists that I’d done the day before. I scrubbed the grout between the shower tiles with a toothbrush, which was even more type A than normal. Still Logan refused to be driven from my mind.

Pathetically, I kept checking my cell. My business card had my number on it, after all.

I
TELL
my friends to come at five, but I plan to have Christmas dinner ready by six. Todd Fleece is an hour late to everything, every time. Unfortunately, he figured out I was adjusting the time a few years back, so now he thinks he has even more time to primp. I was able to hold dinner until six-thirty when he finally showed up.

And, sure enough, Steve brought a new trick of the month—out came the spare place setting. True to form, Gabe forgot the Horny Elf gift, he
and
his date—two more prewrapped presents appeared under the tree.

By the time all of them were there, I began to feel a little more like myself.

I was surrounded by my chosen family, and with them, I was enough. I was happy.

It had even begun to snow again.

I paused in the doorway, the platter of molasses and mustard pork lion heavy in my hands. They were beautiful—my friends. They laughed and gossiped around the table. The candles spread throughout the room cast a warm, gentle glow. Just beyond, the Christmas tree reflected in the living room window.

Suddenly the events of the night before didn’t hurt any longer. I would treasure the memory and the gift of those few hours.

I’d just set the pork loin down in the center of the table and started to take my seat when the doorbell chimed.

My heart leapt in my chest for the briefest moment, and then I pushed the thought aside. I’d received my quota of Christmas miracles.

Excusing myself, I hurried to the door and opened it without checking the peephole.

Logan grinned at me as he stood on the porch, snow falling around him, once again without a jacket. “Hi. I hope you meant your invitation and that you weren’t just being nice.” He held out a horribly wrapped something. “I brought my own Horny Elf gift, if that helps.”

Yeah. Yep. No doubt. I was still buried in snow beneath a recently fallen spruce. The only reasonable explanation.

“Yes, of course I did. We are just sitting down to dinner.” Though I’d managed words, my body had yet to move.

“Sorry I’m late. I had to get my nerve up.” He looked anxious, which made no sense at all. “You sure you’ve got room?”

I moved. Thank God, I moved. Out of the doorway and to the porch. “Yes. For sure. I can’t tell you how happy I am you’re here.”

There was the confident smile once more. “Good.” Logan leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.

Before he pulled away, he took hold of my hand.

I looked at him in disbelief. His beautiful face highlighted by the flashing Christmas lights I’d strung over the doorway, snow drifting down behind him like stars from the night sky.

I smiled at last, starting to believe.

“Come in.”

He did, closing the door behind him and wiping his feet on the entrance rug. Yeah, I was falling.

Logan didn’t let go of my hand as we joined the others at the table.

I couldn’t keep the stupid, ridiculously happy grin off my face. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Logan Charles. He tried to kill me with a snowmobile last night.”

31 stories of holiday love!

www.dreamspinnerpress.com

B
RANDON
W
ITT
’
S
outlook on life is greatly impacted by his first eighteen years of growing up gay in a small town in the Ozarks, as well as fifteen years as a counselor and special education teacher for students with severe emotional disabilities. Add to that his obsession with corgis and mermaids, then factor in an unhealthy love affair with cheeseburgers, and you realize that with all those issues, he’s got plenty to write about…

Website: www.brandonwitt.com

Author Facebook page: www.facebook.com/brandon.witt.author

Twitter: @wittauthor

YouTube: www.youtube.com/channel/UCO5cFqYKyNyDCxExAonFPRA

Then the Stars Fall

By Brandon Witt

The death of his wife four years earlier left Travis Bennett a shell of the man he used to be. With his dog by his side, Travis raises his three children, manages his business, and works as a ranch hand. But every day, every minute, is an aching emptiness.

Wesley Ryan has fond memories of the small Ozark town of El Dorado. Seeing it as a safe place to put his failed relationships behind him, Wesley moves into his grandparents’ old home and takes over the local veterinary clinic. An early morning visit from Travis and his dog stirs feelings that Wesley seeks to push away—the last thing he needs is to fall for a man with baggage and three kids as part of the package.

Life, it seems, has other plans.

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