ChristmasInHisHeart (5 page)

Not that he was able to focus on the day to day paperwork piling up on his desk. Despite the fact that Chaz’s absence had put him seriously behind, he had another priority.

Dermot slid into his desk chair and eyed his screen. The parking lot petition had hundreds of electronic signatures, and he had already printed them out. Tonight, he had to present the petition to the city council.

Of course, even if they approved it immediately, it was too late for this holiday season. Which was why he needed this advertising gimmick.

“Everyone has holiday sales and events.” He bit his cheek and glared at the poster. He didn’t need the reminder that from November to January every year the entire world went insane. Gaudy glittery decorations, material greed…coffee in fucking reindeer mugs.

Damn it!

Dissatisfied with his flyer, Dermot wasn’t certain how to fix it. He shrugged. It was only a demo model anyway. Just like he had to make and remake new recipes before putting them on the menu, he also had to redo this. Maybe he could come up with something better when he knew the rest of the merchants in the district were on board with his idea.

He hit print and stood, stretching until his back cracked satisfyingly loud. Damn that coffee would have been good. Maybe his first step should be to visit Prudence for the peppermint coffee?

No. Logically the first step was right next door at Craft Time then on down the block to the bell-ringing Santa, who wasn’t Steve today, down the second block, across to the bank, back up on the opposite side of the street and then over to his own shop. That was the most efficient way to cover the four block shopping district, and he couldn’t let his…

Unparalleled reaction to Xander…

Dictate his actions.

You mean like you’ve been doing since last Thursday?

He trained his gaze on the tiny printer, jerking and lurching on its not so sturdy table as it slowly churned out copy after copy of his sample flyer outlining his plan.

It’s a good idea.

He snatched the stack from the tray and nearly ran from his office. Was he that eager to see Xander again? The attraction between them was certainly compelling. The memories of that kiss they’d shared had kept him on the verge of arousal for the last few days. He hadn’t been able to concentrate all week, jerking every time the bell rang to indicate someone had entered the restaurant, expecting every order to come with Xander’s name on Macy’s lips.

He’d imagined a dozen new sandwiches…at least that many improbable soups, items that would never make it to his menu for the most part. And all because he wanted to see Xander’s face when he tasted them.

He stomped his way down the stairs, trying to drown out the sound of Xander’s name in his head.

Get out, the fresh air will clear your head, talk to the others, and then get back and do payroll.

That was a sobering thought.

He needed this sale to work. Dermot stepped out onto the sidewalk, automatically locking the door behind him. The charming buildings dated back to the early 1900s, with elaborate art deco and gingerbread Victorian trim side by side. Huge plate glass windows fronted most of the narrow buildings. He’d been part of the group that campaigned to have the area designated as historic, and standing here now was like stepping back in history.

Except…

“What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded, glaring at Xander who stood halfway up a ladder draped in strings of holiday lights, a claw foot hammer shoved through a belt loop, a drawstring bag of who knew what on the top step, and a mouth full of nails. He wore a pointy green elf hat on his head, with a shiny gold bell on the tip. The bell jingled as he bent his head down awkwardly to meet Dermot’s eyes.

“I’m putting up the Christmas lights. We’re a little late with the decorations this year, but it’s been so busy.”

Dermot glared. A bead of sweat broke out on his brow and his heart pounded heavily. “No. You can’t. There’s a fire code. And… This isn’t a good idea.” He sounded like an idiot, he knew it, and even as he spoke, he could see confusion replacing the eager smile on Xander’s face. “It’s not historically authentic!” He threw out, angry at feeling like he needed to justify himself to this man, but even more terrified of the lights and the old wiring and the potential danger.

“Well… Um…” Xander eyed him cautiously, and Dermot felt like even more of an idiot. “We had the fire marshal out for an inspection recently, and Shawna did clear our plans. She’s pretty thorough about things like that. As for historic accuracy”—his brown gaze narrowed and swept the street in both directions before landing back on Dermot’s face—“there’re plenty of lights on other buildings.”

It was true enough. Even the bank on the corner had a discreet little display of white lights lining its front window where shiny coins and certificates of deposit were on display.
Financial security, the perfect gift.
Dermot had noted the display himself when he’d made his change run last Tuesday morning.

“Those buildings aren’t near mine.”

“Well, you got me there. “ Xander smiled, but his eyes held a depth of concern that made Dermot uneasy. “But you’re kind of putting me in a bad spot here. Shawna loves lights. You should see her apartment balcony.” He shook his head, amusement clear. “There’s less lights in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. But the bottom line is she’s my boss, and she wants lights on these display windows, and I can’t really tell her the grinch next door said no, can I?”

His breath caught in his throat and his gut tightened painfully. Those lights were going up, and he could tell there wasn’t really anything he could say that was going to change Xander’s mind. It probably didn’t even have anything to do with how rude he’d been, or how he’d avoided Xander since their kiss. No, it was most likely all about the holiday season and making Shawna happy. “I’ll talk to her,” he said stiffly, knowing he probably wasn’t going to do any such thing.

“You do that.” Xander watched him for a second then started whistling as he turned back to his task, interrupting himself to sing every few words. “Children listen”—
tweedly tweet tweet
—“with every Christmas card I write…”
Hmmm
.

Chapter Five

Four days seemed to be Xander’s limit. After one blissfully perfect kiss, he kept lookout every morning for his own personal grinch to walk by so he could bombard him with smiles and coffee, but it never happened and on the fourth day he couldn’t stand it any longer and sought the man out.

Just to get booted from Dermot’s restaurant after offering him coffee and candy. Ouch, that had hurt.

It was his only excuse for being so curt with Dermot about the lights issue. Seriously, what did the grump have against Christmas decorations? Sure, certain people believed the festive displays shouldn’t go up until after Thanksgiving, but Xander never abided by that idea. He’d always enjoyed celebrating the season in conjunction with Thanksgiving.

He didn’t believe that was Dermot’s issue, though. Dermot’s attitude didn’t portray anger over early decorations, it almost seemed as if the man was stressed over the harmless addition of the colorful bulbs, a fearful, strained look in his eyes undercutting the grinch vibe.

Xander had wanted to know what put those clouds in Dermot’s beautiful green eyes so he could make sure they never appeared again, but instinctively knew at that moment that if he pushed the other man, he’d once again get booted—even if not physically this time.

So instead he’d turned back to his task, his thoughts staying with Dermot as his hands continued decorating for Shawna.

And now…four days later…he’d hit his limit. A need blossomed in the pit of his stomach to search out the man occupying all his thoughts—innocent fancies and erotic fantasies. Xander longed for a real conversation with Dermot, more than five minutes of banter back and forth.

Xander glanced at his watch—it was after four in the afternoon. Technically he was off shop duty considering he’d been logging in on average about ten hours a day, if you included the paperwork he took home at night to get caught up for Shawna. The woman aced her business courses in college, outscored him on most of the finals, yet still refused to keep a simple spreadsheet for even her payroll. Her accountant must hate her.

Xander had toyed with staying late again since it was Black Friday and the shop was buzzing with activity, but they had a full staff with plenty of coverage. There'd be no guilt if he headed home to relax, or took in a movie at the theater at the other end of the shopping district. It was one of those quaint old style cinemas with only a couple of movie choices—family friendly fare during the day and the rated R stuff after eight. So if he headed over now he’d probably be stuck watching a kid flick.

Of course there was a third option…and right now would be the perfect time—between the lunch crowd and the dinner rush. Why was he hesitating? If he wanted to see Dermot, he’d have to take his happy ass to the grinch, because the grinch didn’t seem to have any intention of coming to his happy ass.

Decision made, Xander smiled as he withdrew his thumb drive from the computer on Shawna’s desk, exited the office, and waved to Thom behind the register. “I’m out.”

Thom nodded in understanding as he rang up the customer in front of him, a man with two very happy kids who evidently had major painting plans in their future—if the numerous bottles of acrylic colors, stencils, and multiple-sized paint brushes on the counter were any indication.

Xander snagged some of the peppermint candies by the register and winked at the father before whispering, “May I?”

The man caught on and smiled in agreement.

Hearing his knees crack as he squatted down to the kid’s level, Xander chuckled. “Oh boy, I’m getting old.”

The two adorable kids, from the looks of it twins about six or seven years old, giggled more as they eyed him.

“So…are you guys gonna do some cool things today?”

The girl jumped in place, imitating a bobble head doll. “We always make something for Christmas. We hand-make it.” She stuck her palm out to emphasize her point.

Her brother duplicated her enthusiasm. “We’re painting ornaments.”

Xander praised them for their talent before asking, “And when you’re done will you help your daddy put everything away so you can use the paints and brushes another time?”

A little of their happy bounce disappeared as they registered what Xander meant. The boy nudged the girl with his elbow and she pushed at his intruding arm. Finally he nodded almost solemnly. “I guess so.”

Xander bit back his laughter at the complete and utter reluctance in the boy’s voice. The poor dad must have his hands full with these two.

“I’ll tell you what”—he held his hands out, two peppermints in each one—“I’ll give you these, but you can’t eat them until your daddy okays it. Can you do that?”

The girl timidly looked up at her father, but the boy had no qualms about snagging the candies in Xander’s right hand and pocketing them.

Finally the girl did the same thing and smiled at her brother. In unison, they both turned to Xander and thanked him before moving closer to their tall father’s legs.

“You’re very welcome.” He stood and again waved good-bye to all of them. “Happy holidays.”

Within moments, he again stood in front of
Alimentaire
with what could only be described as the jitters. Why the hell was he so nervous? He’d never been the shy kid in school, never worried about what people thought or if he received anyone’s approval for his decisions—whether they had to do with his clothes, attitude, friends, or even sexual orientation. He was the carefree, don’t stress it type of guy.

So why could Dermot make him doubt himself so much, stress over whether he was welcome to show up at the restaurant unannounced?

Because this isn’t someone I don’t care about…this isn’t someone that I could potentially just mark off my friends list and go on with my life without ever talking to again…because it would hurt if four days from now I couldn’t see him, and two days after that and then one day and…

Xander took a deep breath. Shit, when did he suddenly care so much about the grumpy chef?

A picture of Dermot trying to fight a smile as they discussed sausages in the kitchen flashed in his mind. The way Dermot leaned into his body’s warmth the cold night by the Dumpster. The shadows entering his soft emerald eyes when Xander was on that ladder hanging lights.

Suddenly fortified with his decision, Xander pulled his shoulders back and entered the restaurant with his head held high.

Thankfully it was a quiet time of the day and they only had a dozen or so patrons. Macy was writing the dinner specials on the board and another server flitted from table to table tending to the customers. A man exited the kitchen and headed down the hall to where Xander assumed the bathrooms were located.

He wondered if that was Chaz. He’d never actually met Dermot’s—what was his title? —sous chef? But if that was him, did that mean Dermot was alone now?

Macy turned from the board and grinned broadly at him. “Hey, Xander, I’ll be right with you, or if you want to just pick a table, I’ll bring you over a cup of coffee.”

He returned her friendly greeting but shook his head. “I just need a word with Dermot, I’m gonna show myself to the back.” He tried not to make the request sound like a question as he headed to the swinging door.

Macy’s eyebrows scrunched before she beamed a full wattage smile his way. “Yeah, sure, you do that.”

Without expanding on that slightly knowing comment, she quickly turned from him and continued her task at hand.

Okay then.
He hurried through the dining room, ignoring the few eyes that took interest in his destination and entered the kitchen.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” he mumbled harshly as his eyes settled on the exact ass he’d been daydreaming about for forever it seemed.

Dermot bent over in the corner of the kitchen, rummaging through some very loud and clanking items as his backside presented itself perfectly. All Xander had to do was walk over there, grab Dermot’s hips, and press against that glorious ass for Dermot to know how his penchant for this position affected Xander.