Winter Wonderland (12 page)

Paul glanced toward the bedroom. “Uh, yeah, but…” He tried to think of how to skirt the truth, then gave up. “Kyle’s here, still sleeping.”

“He’s
what
?”

Paul winced at Arthur’s volume and sharp tone. “He’s here. In my bed.” Might as well lay it all out.

“Jesus, Paul. Why the hell did we go through all that shit of getting him out? What the hell were you thinking?”

Paul hated this already. “Bring Gabriel. He can use my truck. I’ll be ready by the time you get here.” He hung up and turned the phone off so he wouldn’t hear it buzz when Arthur inevitably called back.

Worry chased him into the shower, though, blooming up with the steam. He wasn’t sorry about changing his mind about Kyle, but he wasn’t looking forward to explaining that to Arthur. He barely understood it himself. When he got out of the shower, he stared down at the bed, the worry in his gut tangling with lust and a thin line of growing affection for the young man in his sheets. Towel around his waist, he sat on the edge of the bed and gently shook Kyle awake.

“I have to go out on a job,” he said when Kyle looked like he had enough consciousness gathered for comprehension. “Arthur’s coming to pick me up. He’s dropping off Gabriel, so you might hear somebody in the kitchen.”

“Gabriel is coming?” Blinking, Kyle started to sit up.

Paul pushed him down. “Go back to sleep. This is your day off.”

Kyle kissed his hand, his gaze on the edge of Paul’s towel as it hung low on his waist. “How long will it take them to get here?”

Paul glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “Probably ten more minutes.”

“Good.” Kyle pulled Paul onto the bed and shifted their positions in one fluid movement. Paul lay with his towel undone and fallen away as Kyle hovered over him. In the shadows of the room, Kyle smiled in a way that made Paul’s worry lay down. “I need to kiss you good morning.”

Kyle slid along Paul’s body, knelt beside the bed and took Paul’s cock in his mouth.

The sleepiness of the blow job faded quickly. It wasn’t even a minute before Paul buckled and gasped beneath Kyle’s onslaught, clutching the sheets as he thrust helplessly into Kyle’s mouth. He tried to hold back, but Kyle pushed him too hard, and all too soon he was spasming and coming into Kyle’s throat.

After pulling off Paul’s dick with a
smack
, Kyle licked Paul’s thigh as he rose to his feet. “I’ll take a nap later. Thanks for breakfast, though.”

Kyle disappeared into the bathroom, and it wasn’t until the sound of running water broke his trance that Paul was able to finish getting dressed. He did so absentmindedly, almost putting his briefs on backward and staring into his closet for a full minute before snapping out of his stupor and selecting a shirt. He was buttoning it when the purr of a snowmobile engine cut through the morning stillness, and soon after the back door opened.

“Everybody decent?”

Arthur’s shout had an edge to it, like he was trying not to be pissed. When Paul came out to greet him, Arthur
looked
annoyed too, but he played nice as Gabriel kissed him on the cheek before padding blearily over to the living room couch.

“No coffee?” Arthur glared at the empty pot on the counter. “I figured you’d start some as soon as we hung up.”

Paul’s cheeks stained red. “I…uh…forgot.”

Arthur didn’t seem to need a map to figure out what Paul had been doing instead of brewing coffee. He rolled his eyes and jerked his head toward the door. “Come on. They’re promising double our usual fee if we can get things sorted before seven.”

They said little more to each other as they drove first to the shop to pick up supplies, then to the café, each taking their own snowmobile. The snow had stopped, but the wind blew hard and unforgiving, kicking up snow in glittering whorls across deserted streets. The lights at the café were on as they approached, and Jimmy, the owner, stuck his head out to greet them as they trudged up the steps to the front door.

“Come on in. I’d offer you coffee, but I can’t until I get my water. I have day-old muffins, though, and a full-plate breakfast for you once you’re finished.”

The burst pipe was in the kitchen on the north side, and digging into the drywall revealed poor insulation as the culprit. It took more time to clean up the mess inside than it did to fit new pipe. While Arthur gave Jimmy follow-up instructions for needed repairs, Paul stuffed some towels behind the pipe and rigged up a portable incandescent lamp beside the hole to ensure the ice stayed away. He also installed a valve farther down the line and swapped out another that was rusted shut.

They had the water flowing with fifteen minutes to spare, and as the café opened for business, Arthur and Paul sat in a booth with a fat check and a table heaping with more food and coffee than they could possibly hope to put away. Jimmy sent their favorite waitress to them too, even though they weren’t at her station.

“You just holler if you need anything at all,” Patty told them. “The heroes of the day get whatever they want, on the house.”

It was then Arthur brought up Kyle. “Tell me what’s going on with the two of you.”

Paul poked at his scrambled eggs with his fork and shrugged. “I’m…seeing him, I guess.”

“You really think that’s a good idea?”

Paul shrugged again, still not looking up.

“Is he what you want, Pauly?”

He thought of the way Kyle had held him while he fucked him on the table, the shiver his smile sent down Paul’s spine every time. “Yeah.” Frowning, he made himself meet Arthur’s gaze. “That okay?”

Arthur seemed taken aback. “Why are you asking
me
?”

“You said he was too young.”

“Well, I didn’t mean it was wrong for you to want him. I just didn’t want him annoying you, is all. What’s the draw, if you don’t mind me asking? Is he that good in bed?”

Paul worried the edge of his toast between his fingers. “I don’t know what the draw is. I guess it’s what I want to find out.” His morning blow job bloomed in his mind’s eye. “He’s good in bed, though. Damn good.”

“I guess I should have seen it coming. The way you looked at him at Marcus and Frankie’s that day. The way he looked at you.”

Paul jerked his head up. “How did he look at me?”

Arthur’s only reply was a smile before he put a fork full of hash browns into his mouth. But after a few minutes of eating in silence, Arthur spoke again. “So does he play?”

Play, Arthur meant, as in BDSM. Paul sipped at his coffee. “Not sure.”

“Huh. Well, I guess it was always more my thing than yours. If you do play, be smart and safe. Might be worth me having a word with him.”

“I don’t think my ex should give kink pointers to my new boyfriend.”

Under the table, Arthur’s knee bumped Paul’s. “How about your best friend does it instead?”

Paul met Arthur’s gaze. “I want to give this a try, Arthur. Don’t mess it up. I’m liable to do that well enough on my own.”

He braced for a wry quip or innuendo, but Arthur’s voice was gruff and gentle as he replied, “I won’t. I promise.” He took Paul’s hand, gripping it tight.

Paul squeezed back and let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

Whe
n Kyle came out of the shower, Gabriel was in the kitchen brewing coffee.

“Good morning.” Gabriel waved Kyle in. “Have a seat. I’m foraging for breakfast.”

Kyle started for the table, remembered Paul splayed on it, and rerouted to the fridge, hoping the air would cool him down. “I’ll help.”

“I take it by the fact that you’re here despite Paul’s efforts to ship you off to Frankie mean things are better between the two of you?”

“I think so. Though I’m ready for him to try and backtrack on me again.” Kyle pulled out a carton of eggs and a plastic bag of bacon. “Frankie says Paul likes to make poor choices when it comes to men.”

“Frankie is right.” Gabriel saw the bacon and shook his head. “You can put that away. I brought deer sausage.”

They made omelets, sighing over the lack of vegetables or spices in Paul’s cupboards. When Gabriel learned how much Kyle enjoyed cooking, he declared he was setting up a foodie date in addition to shopping. “Frankie loves cooking more than me, but it’s fun when the two of us work together. You’d fit right in, I’m betting. Oh, hey—what about Thanksgiving? Frankie wanted to host at his new house. Which will piss off Arthur, but I’ll deal with that fallout.”

Kyle opened and closed his mouth, not sure what to say. He loved the idea in the abstract, but he couldn’t imagine what his mother would say if he tried to skip. Or worse, Linda Kay. “I’ll think about it,” he said at last.

“Speaking of thinking about it—Marcus called me last night and said he’d made some headway on the Winter Wonderland idea we’d had, about using the shuttered storefronts. The city council is all over it. Half of the stores, it turns out, are owned by the bank. Everyone wants to see more businesses opening. And get this—some friend of Marcus’s from Duluth apparently has a bid for land just north of here, by Lost Lake. Wants to do something with those summer cabins we keep hearing about. Winter Wonderland could sweeten the deal. The council talked about giving huge tax incentives to any business wanting to extend past the holidays, and I’m looking up some Main Street grants today. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to get in to the library early.”

The thought of their crazy idea becoming a reality made Kyle buzz with excitement, and he spent a happy hour with Gabriel connecting dots on their brainstorms. When Gabriel declared he had to go to work, Kyle was almost disappointed.

He helped Gabriel dig out enough to free Paul’s pickup, and once Gabriel had left, Kyle took care of the drive and the sidewalk with the snowblower before using the shovel and ice pick to clear the front and back steps of both sides of the duplex. Edna appeared and urged him to come in for a cup of tea.

“Everything going well with the two of you?” She said this as she poured from a ceramic pot, but her hands shook so badly Kyle deftly took it from her, urging her to sit down.

“So far, so good.” Kyle frowned as he watched her sink wearily into her chair. “Mrs. Michealson, are you feeling well?”

She waved his concern away. “I’m fine.”

She didn’t look fine, but she didn’t seem ill enough for Kyle to push, so he made a mental note to check on her later. And to drink his cup of tea quickly so she could take a nap.

Once he convinced her to do that, promising to come by with his sister as soon as the roads were clear, he went outside and began packing snow. He went with a traditional snowman, though he used snow instead of sticks for the arms. He was in the middle of sculpting the face when he heard the buzz of a Ski-Doo.

He waved at Paul as he approached. “Just making a little decoration for your yard.”

Paul stood beside him, watching him work. “Thank you for not making it a penis.”

Kyle pushed playfully at the center of Paul’s chest. “You loved them and you know it.”

Paul smiled ruefully and rubbed at his cheek with a worn glove. “I gotta head in to the shop. Did…did you want to stay, or go home?”

“I’d love nothing more than to stay, but my mom has already texted me twice this morning asking if I need a ride home. But…maybe we could do something tomorrow? Day or evening. Your pick.”

“What do you want to do?”

“How’s the weather? You feel like going to Mountain Iron to see a movie? Or we could rent something and stay in.” When he saw the way Paul looked at him, his heart kicked up, and he quickly amended his suggestion. “How about we stay in. I’ll make you dinner at your place, and you pick the movie.”

Paul’s smile made Kyle wish they could have their date tonight. “Sounds great. But you bring the movie, in case I pick something you don’t like.”

Paul tried to give him a ride home, but Kyle’s mom had said his dad was coming in to get groceries, so Kyle declined. His father picked him up before going to the store, and while they shopped together for the family, Kyle made some personal selections for his dinner date the next day with Paul.

“Are you seeing that boy, then?” his dad asked as they drove to the farm.

“Yeah.” He rubbed his gloves over his jeans. “Hope I don’t screw it up.”

His dad grinned. “Be yourself, and you’ll be fine.”

At home Linda Kay greeted him at the door, enveloping him in a tight, teary hug. “You can’t ever stay away that long again,” she declared.

He kissed her cheek and took her hand. “I’m all yours until tomorrow evening, big sister. What do you want to do with me?”

“Watch movies.
Frozen
and then
South Pacific.
And have a big plate of pizza rolls. Then play Chutes and Ladders and Sorry! with Dad when he’s done with chores. Drink lots and lots of hot chocolate.”

“Sounds like a perfect day to me,” he said, letting her lead him into the family room.

Chapter Ten

Paul
couldn’t help worrying about his date with Kyle, but he didn’t try to get out of it. When Frankie offered to give him a haircut and style a few hours before Kyle was due, he didn’t turn that down either.

Frankie had been cutting Paul’s hair in a longer style, using some gunk and a round brush with a hairdryer to make it less curly. Paul couldn’t manage the style on his own, but he liked how it looked when Frankie did it. Of course Frankie could make anybody’s hair better. It felt good to sit in Frankie’s chair and get fussed over.

“What movie are you watching?” Frankie snipped the hair around Paul’s ears and met his gaze in the mirror. “We have
Guardians of the Galaxy
on Blu-ray if you want to borrow it.”

“He said he was bringing something, though I don’t know what. He’s making the dinner too, at my house.”

Frankie smiled at the length of hair he teased with his comb before snipping along the edges. “Look at you, getting pampered. I have to say, Paul, I like Kyle for you. A lot.”

Paul did too, which worried him. “We’re just trying it out. Probably won’t work, since we have so little in common.”

“You have more in common than Marcus and I. Definitely more than Gabriel and Arthur. Though that works in their favor. They both love sniping at each other.”

Paul hated fighting, which was one of the biggest reasons he and Arthur hadn’t worked well together as a couple.

Frankie combed Paul’s hair to the other side and kept trimming. “Gabriel said something about all of us having Thanksgiving dinner together at our house. Kyle too. What do you think?”

Paul thought it sounded like heaven, but he knew he couldn’t. “My mom would have a fit.”

“Honey, your mother will have a fit no matter what.”

This was true, but it didn’t change Paul’s answer. “Better to get it over with in a day. If I skip, she’ll make me sorry for a month.”

Frankie flattened his lips as he continued to cut. “What if we had our Thanksgiving on Saturday or Sunday? Or on another weekend between Thanksgiving and Christmas? Because something tells me Kyle will have an equal amount of trouble escaping
his
family.” He sighed. “Honestly, all our families will be sore if we don’t put in an appearance. I’ll text Kyle and see what his work schedule looks like, and we’ll go from there. Maybe it could even be our Christmas party, for the six of us. Because we’ll have an equally difficult time getting together on that holiday too.”

Paul thought about the alternate holiday party all through the rest of his haircut. He could
see
it, and it was beautiful. Though Arthur would lobby for his cabin, it would be at Frankie and Marcus’s house, all done up nice and pretty. Frankie would make everything sparkle and match and yet it would still feel like home. The food would be great, because Frankie was an amazing cook. But they’d all be there, all helping. Paul could peel potatoes. He was good at that. They’d laugh, drink beer and wine and cider, and…

He let out a sigh full of longing, suddenly wanting the day with his friends and his maybe-boyfriend more than he’d thought he could want something.

When Frankie was done, Paul checked himself out in the mirror, amazed as always at the magic Frankie could work. When Frankie had first tried to do his hair, Paul had worried he’d end up too fancy, like everybody would laugh at him for it. But while Frankie did make him look more polished than usual, he did it in a way that didn’t seem too puffed up. His hair had the kind of messy look movie stars got, as if somebody had run fingers through it.

He paid Frankie and hugged him in thanks, then went to his house to do another round of cleaning.

Edna stuck her head out of the door as he came out of the garage. “Paul, could you come inside and change a bulb for me? I tried climbing the step stool, but it’s so wobbly.”

The thought of her trying to stand on the stool anyway and Paul finding her dead on the floor after a fall chilled him to the bone. “I’m happy to, Mrs. Michealson.”

She did, in fact, have five bulbs out, and Paul changed them all, going over to his apartment and fetching his last three. As was often the case, he ended up doing several minor repair jobs, and when she worried over the state of her carpet, he vacuumed that for her too. Even though it meant losing the opportunity to clean his own.

She seemed more tired than usual. She rarely missed a beat to tell Paul what he was doing wrong with his life, but mostly she mentioned how tired and dizzy she was. He left her ten minutes before Kyle was due to arrive, but he didn’t do any cleaning, only paced back and forth, worrying, until Kyle knocked on the front door.

Kyle looked gorgeous, all styled and smelling faintly of cologne, full of smiles, but when he saw Paul’s face, he sobered. “What’s wrong?”

Paul only hesitated a second before nodding at the duplex’s shared wall. “I’m worried about Mrs. Michealson. She doesn’t seem to be her usual self.”

Kyle put down his things. “Get your shoes, and we’ll go next door.”

It was something to watch Kyle’s whole demeanor change as he sat with Edna on the sofa while he took her vitals. He spoke cheerfully to her, but in this patient, careful way that reminded Paul of going to the doctor. Kyle asked Edna questions about her activity level, had her rate her pain on a scale of one to ten and urged her to explain to him where it hurt worst.

He held her hands in his and looked her in the eye. “Edna, I’m going to call your son and have him take you to the emergency room.”

For a terrible moment, Paul thought Edna would cry. “They’ll put me away. I’ll be fine in a day or two. I always am.”

“Edna, your pulse is erratic, and I don’t have my blood pressure cuff, but I suspect you’re low. At the very least you need some fluids and some monitoring.” He squeezed her weathered hand inside his. “No one is putting you away. If you go anywhere but home, you’ll come to Logan Manor, where
I
will take care of you.”

Now the tears did fall. “I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to stay here.”

“One step at a time, okay? Let’s let the doctors give their diagnosis before we get ahead of ourselves.” He stroked her hair. “I’ll give your son my number, and you can call me at any time, day or night. Even if it’s only to tell me you’re scared.”

She gripped his hand with pressure that made her arm shake. “You said the manor was full. What if they send me to Eveleth?”

“There’s actually one opening as of yesterday, and the waitlist is empty. If you want, I’ll call over and have them add your name to hold it. You can always take yourself off it later. Would you like that? Would it make it easier for you to go to the hospital?”

Her tears broke Paul’s heart. “Would you promise to be there for me?”

The broken bits of Paul’s heart shattered as Kyle kissed her cheek. “Of course. I’ll help you move in and show you around. I’ll pull a favor with Frankie too, and you can have a full spa day at the manor’s salon.”

She wept, but she nodded. Kyle never let go of her hand as he pulled out his phone, first calling Edna’s son, then, with Edna listening in, calling the care center and putting her name down for the open room. Soon after that Hans Michealson arrived from Eveleth, whey-faced and terrified, but Kyle set him to rights too, assuring Hans everything was fine, Edna only needed to be checked out. He gave his phone number as promised and helped get Edna bundled and secured in Hans’s car.

Once they were gone, Paul led Kyle to his house, where Kyle gave the unvarnished version of his opinion. “It could be so many things, but most of them are pretty serious. I think she’s worked hard to keep anyone from noticing how sick she is.”

“Do you think she’ll have to go to the care center?”

Kyle shrugged, but he looked grim. “She
should
go. It’s not just her ability level. She doesn’t get any socialization here. I understand people fear going into a nursing home, call it being
put away
and all that, but honestly, it’s kinder than leaving people to hurt themselves on their own. The care staff gets all the grief for not making everything exactly like it would be at home, but what people truly are upset about is their loved one is closer to death than life. We give the best care we can. I’m not saying there aren’t some centers fueling the nightmares, but ours isn’t one of them.”

Kyle’s passion stirred things in Paul, though it was weird to get hot for his date while talking about nursing homes. He cleared his throat and nodded at the canvas grocery bag Kyle had left by the door. “Do we need to put anything in the fridge?”

They put the groceries away together, but when Paul admitted he was hungry, Kyle got an apron out of his duffel, pulled the tenderloin out and began patting it with paper towels. Paul stood beside him, trying not to hover. “What are we having?”

“Beef tenderloin with Dijon cream sauce, steamed green beans with mushrooms, and fried potatoes. I brought extra wine, but I won’t be offended if you have beer.”

Paul’s mouth was nothing but water. “It sounds great. Can I help?”

He worried that was the wrong thing to say, but Kyle beamed at him. “Sure. I love cooking with people. How do you feel about washing the potatoes? I’ll show you how to cut them when I’m done tying up the roast.”

“I can peel them,” Paul assured him, eager to show off his skills.

“Well, I was going to leave the skins on, but we can take them off if you’d rather.”

The only thing Paul wanted was to please Kyle. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

Kyle did. He moved effortlessly between his own prep and instructing Paul in how to slice the potatoes into thin half-circles.

“I’m so glad you have a cast-iron pan.” Kyle set his twine-tied, oiled, peppered and salted roast onto the hot surface, sending a delicious sizzle into the air as well as a sharp aroma of seared beef. “How do you like your beef? The recipe calls for medium-rare, but we can make it as done as we want.”

Paul preferred medium-well, but he wasn’t fussy. “How do
you
like your meat?”

“Honey, I like my meat tickling the back of your throat.”

Paul fumbled with the knife, almost slicing his thumb. Kyle slid arms around his waist and moved the utensil out of his hand.

“I’m making you dinner, and I want you to enjoy it, Paul.” Kyle kissed his neck, running his tongue along the surface Frankie had so recently shaved clean. “Tell me how you want me to cook your roast.”

Paul shut his eyes as Kyle’s hand closed over his dick through his jeans. “I… Medium-well.”

Kyle squeezed his cock and let him go. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it? Though I admit, it was more fun than a simple answer.”

Paul still hadn’t recovered by the time Kyle had the meat thermometer in the roast and the pan in the oven. Chuckling, Kyle nudged Paul to the side with his hip and deftly took over the potatoes.

Kyle nodded to the front door. “I’m doing the onion next. Would you get me the latex gloves from the side pocket of my duffel? I don’t want my hands to stink all night.”

Paul found the gloves easily, though he noted Kyle had more than one pair. He wondered if the others were spares or if Kyle had some kinky purpose in mind. Trying to imagine the latter had him distracted as he came into the kitchen, so much so he startled when Kyle kissed his neck again.

“You make it hard to cook, standing there looking so good.” When the comment made Paul lean into him, Kyle laughed and swatted Paul’s butt. “Be a good boy and wash the rest of my produce.”

Flushed with pleasure over being called a
good boy
, Paul washed the mushrooms and rinsed the beans. After Paul filled a pot with water, Kyle produced a steamer basket from his shopping bag. He filled it with beans, and after setting it on the boiling water, he stir-fried onions and mushrooms in a second skillet. When everything was ready, he piled the vegetables in a bowl beside the stove, washed his hands and set a timer.

“I have to start the last part of dinner in twelve minutes.” He put his phone down, took off his apron and leaned against the counter. With a sly smile, he tugged Paul closer. “Let’s see how much trouble we can get up to between now and then.”

Kyle drew Paul lazily into a kiss. Nipped at his lips, licked the seam, formed a soft seal when Paul opened with a sigh. Paul kept himself upright, but he let his upper body relax into Kyle’s hold, let himself be shifted and poised so Kyle could kiss him better. Though Kyle stroked him all over, it never progressed further than kissing. Paul surrendered to it, swimming in Kyle’s tender nibbles and licks and nuzzles until he was in a trance. Completely, wonderfully lost. When the timer went off, Paul came lazily awake, remaining in the circle of Kyle’s arms, resting their foreheads together.

Kyle shut off the timer, but he didn’t move to finish cooking, only kept stroking Paul’s face. “We’re good together, Paul,” he said at last.

Shutting his eyes, Paul nodded. They were. They really were.

He worried he shouldn’t give in to that, shouldn’t get carried away with fantasies. The more time he spent with Kyle, though, the harder guarding his heart became.

Because for the first time ever, he didn’t just want a boyfriend to date and take to gatherings with the rest of the guys or dream about buying a house with. He wanted Kyle.

Their kiss burned Kyle’s lips all the way through the rest of dinner preparation, and every time Paul brushed against him to grab plates or snag a potholder, Kyle’s body radiated with beautiful electricity. Part of him wanted to abandon food and drag the man to a bed, though by and large he was excited to have such a languid evening ahead of them. He looked forward to the intimacy of a shared dinner and movie as much as he did the passion that kiss had promised.

He couldn’t help but worry, though, what would happen the morning after. Would Paul truly be okay about the two of them dating? Would it make things easier if they didn’t have sex tonight? Maybe, Kyle acknowledged. He hated the idea, but he told himself he was a big boy. He could settle for kisses. For a while, anyway. Give Paul a chance to ease into the idea without freaking out. He’d been masturbating in the shower for months now instead of getting laid. Wouldn’t kill him to keep it up a bit longer.