ChristmasInHisHeart (4 page)

“Hey there. Are you still hanging out looking for handouts?” She purred, blinking up at him. He switched the trash to his left hand and dug in his apron pocket. “Now don’t go getting ideas,” he murmured as he handed her a few strips of seared pork he’d salvaged from a dinner plate. “I’m not running a charity organization here. You need to get out there and fend for yourself.”

The gray and white cat tilted her head and gave him a knowing glance out of narrowed green eyes before delicately knocking the food from his hand with a paw. She knew he was blowing hot air. “You think I’m kidding? I’m not. The way things are going, this is going to be a vegetarian restaurant before you know it. See how well you like spinach and potatoes.” Giving her chin one last scratch, he heaved his bag back up and walked off toward the Dumpster at the end of the alley.

As he passed the back door of Craft Time, it opened and a dark figure, too tall and broad to be Shawna, appeared. Instantly tension bloomed, tightening his muscles, making him self-conscious and wary. It had been hot in the kitchen, did he stink of sweat? Or bleach from the cleanup? Or trash?
Damn it.
He hated being taken off guard like that, and being so aware of himself and how his movements and speech might appear. Dermot shifted his trash restlessly. “Hey,” he muttered as Xander fell into step beside him.

“Hey, yourself.” Xander carried two large bags of trash easily and matched his stride automatically to Dermot’s. He inhaled loudly, a hearty, live your life to the fullest sound that filled Dermot with a yearning he couldn’t remember ever experiencing before.

Yearning. What the fuck was that about? He was just tired. It had been a really long day. But it was cold enough out that he could actually feel Xander’s warmth beside him, feel the air around them heating up. He exhaled, and his breath coalesced in a cloud of vapor.

Dermot scrambled for something to say, anything really, to fill what the awkward silence. “So…you like sausage, huh?” He nearly bit his tongue as the provocative comment came out in a husky, seductive voice.
Damn it!
“I mean…I like sausage too.”

“Glad to hear it.” Xander sounded amused, and Dermot bristled.

“That didn’t come out the way I wanted it to.” He growled, grasping the Dumpster lid and sending it flying up with such force that it clanged into the brick wall of the abandoned building behind them. “Fuck!” he yelled as the noise startled him into dropping the trash bag.

A soothing hand clasped his shoulder, and heat soaked into Dermot from the touch. He shivered, biting his lip.

“Where’s your coat? It must be all of twenty degrees out here,” Xander demanded.

Dermot grabbed for the distraction from the physical and from the idiocy that seemed to be robbing him of the power to think and speak in Xander’s presence. “It’s hot as fuck in the kitchen. Trust me, after standing over the cooktop all day, the cold feels good.”

Xander tossed his bags into the Dumpster and then snatched Dermot’s bag off the ground before he could protest, sending it sailing into the bin as well. He dusted his hands on his jeans and eyed Dermot with a strange, intense smile.

The heat and tension in his belly exploded, miraculously transforming into an entire herd of tap dancing llamas. “Oh fuck,” he whispered. The distance between them disappeared, and Dermot noted absently that they were really almost the same height. The illusion of Xander being bigger owed more to the broad shoulders that blocked out the wind and created shelter for Dermot to nestle into.

He sighed, tipped his head to the side, and their lips met, clung. Who kissed who might be a mystery, and Dermot was more than willing to take his share of the blame for that. As kisses went, it was stunningly perfect. Xander’s lips were soft and warm, moist but not wet, strong but not demanding. This kiss was exploring…tongues touching then shying away, sliding over lips and teeth, then rushing back to indulge in lush friction again. How could anyone who'd never spoken to him, never been around him, know just how he liked to kiss? That he liked to be seduced, not overwhelmed, that he wanted to play and tease and…

Damn it! What the hell are you doing?

Dermot pushed back, and cold air rushed into the space between them, chilling him until goose bumps raised on his arms and he was racked with shivers. “I…sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen.” The last thing he needed was for Xander to get the wrong idea.

Oh yeah? And what idea would that be? That you want to play hide the sausage with him? Because that would be the right idea, wouldn't it?

He backed away and skirted around the dazed-looking Xander, darting for his back door and the safety of his kitchen.

No fucking way could he get involved with someone who worked next door, someone who drank coffee out of mugs with Christmas tree handles…an overgrown elf. That was what Xander’s perpetual good cheer reminded him of, he noted sourly.

Chapter Four

Xander glanced at his watch again. Go figure, it had been three minutes since the last time he checked. He was running out of things to stock and straighten at the front of the store so he could keep his eye on the window. Once Craft Time opened, he’d lose all hopes of scoping out the front for a grouchy abrupt man with a wicked talent at cooking and kissing.

The corners of Xander’s mouth curled up as he remembered that all-encompassing kiss the two of them shared next to the Dumpster. That thought made him laugh. Shawna would swear that only he could romance someone next to a pile of garbage. That was if he ever told Shawna about Dermot and their impromptu make-out session.

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t told Shawna. The two of them never kept secrets from each other. She knew about his first almost-time with high school lab partner, Jenna, and how the next day she introduced him to her older—and much more experienced—brother, James, who turned out to be his real first time. On a regular basis he heard all about her less than stellar history with the wrong group of guys and why she was in no hurry to find a Mr. Right Now.

So why not share one mind-numbing lip lock that took place behind her store four days earlier?

Xander looked on the counter where two insulated mugs of steaming hot coffee waited to be enjoyed. He kept it to himself because he wanted to savor that special moment between him and Dermot, replay it in his mind over and over, so much better than any of the scenarios his imagination came up with. Dermot’s breath was hot and minty with maybe just a hint of scotch, perhaps a relaxing drink after the busy day he put in? His tongue was strong and determined as it tangled with Xander’s, his teeth nipping at Xander’s full bottom lip, sensitizing it for when he ran his lips over it in a non-verbal whisper of affection.

That night, four days ago, Xander went to bed and his brain refused to recall how Dermot fled from him as if a kiss of that magnitude failed in its purpose…no, his mind produced a different ending to such a beautiful moment. Dermot took his hand and suddenly they were standing in the middle of the kitchen again, but this time Xander wasn’t verbally fumbling over how good Dermot’s sausage was. Oh no, he'd put his mouth—and the proverbial sausage—to better use while on his knees sucking Dermot's cock deep down his throat.

So far lost in his mental illusion, Xander didn’t even remember sliding his hands in his pajama pants and stroking himself while fondling his balls, his legs spread open with his heels digging in the mattress. When Dermot forcefully bent him over the stainless steel island, he squeezed the tip of his penis, coercing more pre-cum out to ease his tight grip. Dermot ripped Xander’s pants in his haste to unclothe him, and Xander bucked up into his fist, gritting his teeth as his body filled with heat.

A warmth covered his backside, a thick presence pressed against his opening, teasing it, making the muscles twitch with anticipation, and suddenly Xander erupted in his pajama bottoms, trying to swallow his grunts while riding out the intense orgasm that a not-so-simple kiss produced.

God, what he would do just for one night alone with Dermot in that kitchen…

“Oh my, Xan. I’d say a penny for your thoughts but eyeing you below the belt makes me think they’re worth a whole lot more. Wanna share?”

Shawna’s voice brought Xander’s wandering mind to a screeching halt, but unfortunately not even the interruption could deflate his extremely aroused state of mind.

Xander couldn’t help but smile even while blushing. “That would be a definite no,” he chuckled.

“Hmm.” Shawna tapped her lip thoughtfully.

He knew that look on her face and decided now was the perfect time for a break.

“I’ll be back in a few.” He grabbed the insulated coffee mug covered in caricature reindeer with festive-colored Christmas bulbs hanging from their antlers and a handful of the individually wrapped peppermint melt-aways by the register.

“We’re opening in less than half an hour,” she mock-whined.

“You can handle the morning rush. Tell Mrs. Mincer I said hello.” He winked at Shawna before exiting the store.

As the door swung closed behind him, he heard Shawna’s parting shot. “Fine, but I’m docking your pay for those candies.”

Xander gave her a huge wave as he passed the windows of Craft Time and hurried to
Alimentaire
. The restaurant wouldn’t be open this early in the day, but he was just presumptuous enough to think maybe he’d be allowed entry.

Taking a fortifying breath, Xander let loose with a staccato knock. He shuffled from one foot to the other, nodding a friendly hello to the early birds strolling up and down the street. It never ceased to amaze him the variety of people this area catered to, the older retired ones mingled courteously with the younger couples toting around their toddlers. On the weekends the teen generation even got in on the action with the trendier stores aligning the blocks.

“All deliveries are accepted via the rear entrance.” A growly voice penetrated the thick oak door to play havoc on Xander’s libido.

He snorted loud and hard. It took him a moment to catch his breath before he could answer Dermot, the only possible owner of that voice because no one else ever had that effect on him. “And I repeat, I’m glad to hear it.”

A litany of unintelligible curse words streamed from the other side of the door before all went silent.

Xander wasn’t sure if he should knock again or go back to the craft store and lick his wounds. The time stretched uncontrollably, each second turned to minutes and the minutes felt like hours. Finally a slight noise came from the restaurant, something akin to the sound of a deadbolt sliding open, and then the door slowly swung inward, a red-faced Dermot peeking out at him.

Didn’t he look simply appetizing standing there, his cheeks flaming with a deep blush and his eyes—such a soft and mesmerizing shade of green—bright with an unnecessary show of defiance?

“We don’t open for breakfast,” was obviously an acceptable form of greeting for Dermot.

“Not a problem, I grabbed an Egg McMuffin on the way to work this morning.”

Dermot’s face twisted, a sneer crossed his mouth as his brow wrinkled, and he shook his head as if to get a distasteful thought out of his head.

Damn, the man even looked good while making funny faces.

“What I didn’t have was coffee; not a big fan of McDonald’s coffee.”

Xander didn’t wait for an engraved invitation. He stepped up to Dermot, half hoping the man would agreeably let him in and half hoping he wouldn’t so Xander could persuade him.

He almost felt a pang of regret when Dermot quickly backed up, allowing Xander entrance to the still dark lobby.

“But you’ll eat what they pass off as food?” Dermot harrumphed.

“I practically lived off Egg McMuffins and double cheeseburgers through college.” Xander pushed the door closed, noticing only a slight resistance from Dermot before he finally yielded to the inevitable and allowed it to click shut. “Should I lock it?” Xander raised his brow to accompany a subtle smirk.

“Yes, well, I’ve got work to do since Chaz is still sick. If you're staying, lock the door.”

Xander threw the lock in place and quickly followed Dermot to the back of the restaurant…to the kitchen. He slowed his breathing and willed his cock not to get out of hand like it had earlier. Hell, he begged his mind not to go off on some erotic tangent as he tried to get through a whole conversation with the sexy as sin man in front of him. He knew he would follow those assets just about anywhere.

“You never told me the purpose of your visit this morning, if not for breakfast.”

That was all Xander needed to start imagining breakfast in bed with Dermot, his imagination already forming scenarios that involved lickable items for them to indulge in with one another.

“No,” Xander seethed under his breath, fighting the tempting fantasy unfolding in his mind’s eye. Dermot looked at him oddly and he grinned. “I haven’t told you why I strolled down your way. I just thought I’d bring you a cup of coffee.”

He held up the festive insulated mug and placed two of the soft peppermints on the closed lid. “It tastes really good if you drop the candies in. The mints are the creamy type that melt perfectly in the heat of the coffee.”

Dermot stared at the mug, his eyes narrowing. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

***

What the fuck is wrong with you? The man had coffee.

In a reindeer mug.

So the fuck what?

I don’t do Christmas.

Grow up. You don’t have to believe in the Christmas spirit to drink coffee out of a reindeer mug with a sexy ass guy like that.

“I have too much to do today,” he grumbled aloud. “I can’t stand here, looking out the window like Marsha Brady, hoping a cute boy will come by.” He forced himself to turn his back on what looked like a perfect, crisp fall day and return to his tiny office at the top of the stairs. 

Mondays were his only day off, and ordinarily he tried to squeeze all his “not-work” activities into Monday. Laundry, cleaning the tiny little three room apartment on the second floor, doing his personal shopping—these tasks generally filled his Mondays.