I Heard Him Exclaim (4 page)

Steve tapped the edge of the ketchup bottle and it burped out another blob of sauce for Poppy. He was about to suggest that in the future she order ketchup soup with a couple of french-fry croutons, seeing as she was eating it at a rate of about four to one, when Chandler underwent what could only be called a drastic change in body language. He stood by the far wall in the covered quasi-patio dining area, watching Poppy from a distance, when something his caller said seemed to make him slump, as if all the blood drained from his face and the vitality left him. If Steve could read people, something he knew damned well he was very good at, Chandler had just received Very Bad News.

Steve glanced back at Poppy, who was watching her uncle as well. She seemed frozen in place, her small hand holding a fry halfway to her mouth. When Chandler turned his face to the wall, Steve pushed his food aside. Nothing alarmed him like seeing Chandler take his eyes off Poppy, even for the brief few moments it took him to get his grip. This, more than anything else, caused Steve to drop a couple of bills on the table and pull Poppy from the booth. Thank goodness she’d nearly finished her shake. He took hold of Poppy’s hand and led her to where Chandler stood waiting.

“We done here?”

Chandler took a deep breath. “Yeah. Sorry. Change of plans. We’re good.”

“What happened?”

“That was my mom. My sister’s having pregnancy complications and it’s way too soon. It looks like she’s going to be all right, but it might require bed rest and home health care, and my mom wants to be there. She and my father are heading to Seattle on the first plane they can get.”

“I’m sorry about your sister.”

“The doctors think everything will be okay but it won’t be easy. My mom wants to help with the older kids. I can see her point. There’s four of them.”

“What can I do?” Steve asked. Maybe Chandler understood he wasn’t asking lightly, or maybe not.

Chandler squeezed his iPhone between his hands. “If the car’s done, I’ll just head home.”

“All right.”

They both looked down at the same time and realized that Poppy still had a tight grip on Steve’s hand.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Chandler hoisted her up, shake and all. “Grammy and Pop won’t be home for Christmas after all.”

Poppy leaned over and whispered something in Chandler’s ear that made him laugh out loud. Steve felt the laughter Poppy surprised from Chandler all the way to his toes. It was unaffected and charming. The sound effervesced inside him like champagne. “What?”

“She said we should see if we can spend Christmas with Santa Claus.”

Steve shrugged. “Why not?”

“No, man. She’s… We can’t do that, I’m sorry.” Chandler sighed and headed out of the restaurant and into the night.

Steve followed him, thinking he’d had worse ideas and they’d turned out mostly okay. “Hey, I wasn’t kidding. Why not spend Christmas with me?”

“Weren’t you going to Vegas? I can’t take a little kid to Vegas for Christmas.”

“No. Well, I was going to Vegas but only because I felt like this year wouldn’t be so great. My family is all about Christmas, though. You really could spend it with us.”

“Who is us?”

“I’d tell you but I don’t want to scare you away.” Steve put his hand on the small of Chandler’s back to guide him around a pothole and found it fit there nicely.

“Tell me.”

“I have four brothers and three sisters and most of them live within a few blocks of one another.”

“No way.”

“It gets worse. There are fifteen nieces and nephews. Some of
them
are married and from those we have three more kids.”

“And you didn’t think you could get into the Christmas spirit?”

“It’s a long story.” Steve didn’t take his hand off Chandler when they got to the car. Chandler held Poppy but Steve only had eyes for him. “I don’t think I’m giving anything away by telling you I like you. You’re a nice guy, and maybe you need someone to take care of you while you take care of Poppy, even if it’s just for a few days. My place isn’t decorated this year but we could fix that. I figure if you—like the song says—need a little Christmas? We’ve got that in spades. What do you say?”

For an answer, Chandler stood on his tiptoes and offered Steve the sweetest, most uncomplicated kiss of his life. Given that it came from a guy who had a whole wagon train full of baggage, the child in his arms notwithstanding, it was all the sweeter for Steve, who admitted that he didn’t like things to be
too
easy.

“Call the tire place. We’ll get your car after Christmas.”

Chandler wore a speculative expression. “It’s my friend Garvin’s car.”

“A car you just put new tires on.”

Chandler shrugged. “Yeah, you’re right. He’s out of town anyway. Merry Christmas, Garvin. New tires.”

“That’s the spirit.” Steve unlocked the door to let Chandler and Poppy into the backseat then stepped away to open the driver’s side door. Chandler caught his hand.

“Not yet, but it will be. Thank you.”

Steve did what he thought of as that odious
aw, shucks
thing, color flooding his cheeks, then got into the car. He waited patiently while Chandler buckled Poppy in and spoke to her quietly for a minute. Steve saw her nod in the rearview mirror.

When he would have started the engine, Chandler stopped him.

“Wait, I’m coming up there.”

“Won’t Poppy be—”

“She’s tired, she’ll sleep for a while. I told her that this time I wanted to sit with you.”

“Well. Good, you can keep me awake.”

Chandler looked back at the diner. “Do you need me to get a couple of coffees to go?”

“No. I was kidding. I’ll be fine.”

Chandler got in the front seat. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a car like this…”

Steve started up the engine and drove back out onto the access road, heading for the tire place to pick up Chandler’s things. “If you play your cards right, I’ll let you drive it.”

Chandler had already begun to relax. The tension he’d carried in his shoulders had eased and his secret smile was back, playing now-you-see-me-now-you-don’t, along with what Steve thought might just be a pretty spectacular dimple. He crossed one long, leanly muscled leg over the other and then said primly, “Maybe I’m just as happy if you drive.”

Steve nearly missed a shift and the car shuddered perceptibly. “Yeah?”

Chandler slid under the lap restraint until his head rested against the back of his seat. “Gods, yes. Maybe I’d be happiest if you drove all the time.”

Steve stared at Chandler’s face for just a little too long. Wouldn’t you know, even out in the sticks someone was going to honk if you missed your chance at a green light. “I could do that.”

Bingo.
Dimple.
Chandler’s eyes started to close. “I can tell.”

Steve hesitated. What exactly were they talking about? “I like to drive.”

“I can tell that too.”

From the backseat, which he’d forgotten existed, Poppy said, “Not a sleigh, though…I wanted a sleigh.”

It was only minutes before they got to Axis Tires, and in no time they had Chandler’s things, including presents he’d obviously been taking for his family and Poppy, in the trunk of the Bee. Poppy was already sound asleep. She’d drifted off the first minute and hadn’t come back up for air, even when they stopped, even when they slammed the trunk lid closed. They stood in the corner of the nearly deserted parking lot while one lonely guy shifted tires around in the open garage bay.

Chandler locked up Garvin’s Honda and came back to where Steve stood in back of the Bee, flicking his lighter open and closed.

“That’s everything.” Chandler didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Are you nervous about something?”

“No.” Chandler wrapped his arms around himself.

“You don’t really know me.”

“I know that.”

“I could be a serial killer or something, and now you’ve agreed to go with me, in my car.” Steve held a hand up to stop Chandler from interrupting him. “Hear me out. I know it’s dark and scary and we’re in the middle of nowhere, but I won’t let you down. I really do have a big family, and they will welcome you with open arms.”

“Thank you.” Chandler rose to his toes for another peck but this time Steve was ready. He wrapped his arms around Chandler and tilted his head so he could deliver a kiss that said something about what he wanted or—face it—
who
he wanted.

Kissing Chandler was ridiculously easy and rewarding as hell. Steve moved his hand up to cup Chandler’s face, then dug his fingers into his soft dark hair. Chandler’s mouth opened beneath his and a small moan escaped him. He melted against Steve like wax. Their tongues touched and explored as Steve tried to get all the awkward first-kiss clichés out of the way. They moved on to breathing and nipping and nuzzling in unison until Chandler gripped the front of Steve’s shirt to stay standing and Steve wanted to push him onto the trunk of his car and do him right there.

“
Gods,
” Chandler whispered when they broke apart. His hand covered his swollen lips for a few seconds, but when it dropped back to his side, he was smiling.

Steve picked up Chandler’s hand and pressed it to his frantic heart. “Best. Kiss. Ever.”

Chandler’s eyelids lowered and he leaned back in, but Steve stopped him. “Maybe it would be better…”

Chandler blinked up at him, love drunk and sweet as stick candy. “Oh,
hello.
I’m in a tire warehouse in fucking
Baker
.”

Steve grinned. “Me too.”

“I’m pretty embarrassed right now.”

“Whatever.” Steve opened the car door for him. “It’s dark and they’ve probably seen worse.”

Steve reached out and cupped the back of Chandler’s neck to pull him in for another kiss. This time his lips were languid, slow and sensuous. Kissing Chandler ignited a long fuse inside him that was bound to burn for the whole ride back to his place.

This time soft hands smoothed the fabric of his shirt instead of wrinkling it, and he got a really good idea what he was in for if Chandler decided to play the tease. Chandler was beautiful too, especially in the golden glow of the Bee’s interior lights, which kissed his high cheekbones and the sharpish blade of his nose while causing shadows to pull in the hollows, sculpting his face more severely in the darkness than nature did by day. It darkened his beard shadow, which grew in heavy and promising. Maybe the rest of him would be covered with crisp dark hair. Maybe he was the kind of guy who didn’t bother with manscaping, who didn’t mind a guy with some fuzz of his own.

Steve was getting a feeling about Chandler. Maybe he was looking for someone he could lean on a little, someone stable and slow, who would put an arm around him when shit got tough and shore him up, maybe give him a break when he was tired. It wasn’t hard for Steve to see himself in that role.

Steve had one of those bright flashes of apprehension—a warning that he was stepping in something here he wouldn’t get out of without getting hurt.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

Whatever fear he felt got crushed under an avalanche of
oh hell yes,
which occurred right about the same time the back of Chandler’s knuckles brushed over his fly. When his knees buckled, he leaned on the Bee’s open passenger door.

Chandler’s gaze left Steve’s cock and seemed to be reluctantly making its way up the rest of his body. When their eyes met, Chandler winked.

“Don’t be buying trouble you can’t afford, boy.”

“Oh, I can afford it.” Chandler glanced into the backseat where Poppy slept, filling the car with adenoidal snurgle sounds. “You’ll just have to take an IOU.”

“I can do that.” Steve backed away but Chandler stopped him.

“With interest.”

“Count on it.” Steve closed the door and came around to the driver’s side. This time, when he fired up the engine, he revved it a little just to feel the power.

***

Chandler leaned his head back against the seat again. He didn’t know which he liked better, the rough growl of the car’s engine or the sweet, slow rumble that was the voice of the big man sitting next to him. All that metal, all those horses, Steve’s big frame and the muscle he carried on it, sinew and bone, steel and high-octane fuel, all combined to sweep him under a heady testosterone cloud.

“It is good to be me today,” he murmured as he felt himself drifting off to sleep.

As soon as they pulled off the Interstate, Chandler stirred. He’d had a nice nap, considering. He glanced into the backseat at Poppy. She was just like they’d left her, snoozing and drooling, her head cushioned by the high back of the full-size car seat, her hands loosely curled, draped over the sides.

Chandler took a deep breath and eyed the man sitting next to him. Steve concentrated on driving. Now that they were off the highway he had to use the clutch more often. Every move he made was orchestrated, his hands and his feet working together, the car gliding smoothly along, fast, slow, start, stop, gear up, gear down. His forearms rippling where he gripped the shift knob, which was little more than a rod that came up from the floor.
Cool.

Guys he’d dated drove all kinds of cars, but there seemed to have been a lot of automatics. He had a vivid memory of a boyfriend’s Honda S2000 though, and the buzz that a hot car—in the hands of a man who knew how to drive it—evoked in him were multiplied exponentially, somehow, when it was a man like Steve.

They’d gotten off the highway in a small town with old-fashioned buildings and vintage neighborhoods. Signs indicated that at one time it had been part of historic Route 66. Mom-and-pop businesses were decorated for Christmas, and the signs, lots in English but as many in Spanish, proclaimed the season with sales, deals and special events. They drove past several neighborhoods with houses draped in Christmas lights and finally pulled in to one, edging their way past one small Craftsman-style home after another. There seemed to be an awful lot of traffic, and he wondered about that, until they got to an area that was clustered with houses where people had…
seriously
…way too much time on their hands.

Way too much.

It was slow going through the neighborhood because some of the houses had the most amazing if over-the-top decorations he’d ever seen. One had lights everywhere, on every surface, with wires running from the light post out front to the home’s red brick chimney. A life-size Santa sleigh complete with eight reindeer and a Rudolph with a blinking red nose were strung between them.

“Wow.” Chandler couldn’t help but say something. “That is…”

“My brother Dave’s place.”

“No.” When Steve didn’t say anything, Chandler turned to look at him. “No shit?”

Steve pointed out another house, six doors down, where someone had one of those light things that made it look like it was snowing, and a giant blow-up snow globe in which penguins seemed to be ice skating. “That’s John’s. He’s the baby.”

“Are you
kidding
me?”

“Mark’s is coming up in a minute. He’s all about control,” Steve followed traffic at a snail’s pace. While all the houses were decorated nicely, even maybe a little heavily, the homes of his brothers seemed to take things to a ridiculous extreme. “So when we turn the corner here, you’ll see his place. He has one of those sound systems that synchronize the lights to create a bit of a show.”

People had stopped their cars to watch. Chandler was likewise curious. Vince Guaraldi music filled the air, and the lights marched and danced along to it, blinking on and off like digitized fireworks. The cycle seemed to last about three minutes and then the house went completely dark.

“Mark had to make it a short cycle and do a one-minute break in between because no one could get through on this street when he originally wired that up. He did it to Pachelbel’s Canon in D and you could only get through here on foot. He and his neighbors had words.”

“I don’t doubt it for a second.”

“Too bad your Poppy’s asleep. She’d probably like this.” Steve put the car back in gear when the traffic started to move again. “We’ll take her tomorrow night if you want. We can walk…”

Chandler turned to look at her. Still in the same position, mouth open, snoring. “Yeah, she’d like that. She’s a weird kid—once she’s asleep you can’t wake her with a bomb until morning.”

“Yeah?” Steve glanced at him and all of a sudden it was there between them again, the heat and excitement that had crackled through the air when their eyes met over Poppy’s head in the restaurant. “That could be a good thing.”

Chandler froze when Steve’s fingers brushed his knee. They traveled up and over his thigh, doing an inexorable slide toward his cock, dipping in to find his inseam. And oh, how he needed it. If they were alone, he would have slipped down in his seat, loosened his button, unzipped and shifted until Steve could slip that big square hand down into his jeans, inside his shorts, and rub his dick. It wasn’t hard to imagine it, the heavy hand that had such a delicate touch, wrapping around him or cupping his balls, one meaty finger slipping behind them to insinuate itself in his more private places. Chandler swallowed.

“No, wait…” He caught Steve’s hand. “Not that I don’t want it, because I do, you have no idea. But I can’t. Not right now. Not until I know Poppy’s safe and she isn’t going to wake up and find us going at it or something.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve pulled his hand back.

“You get that I’m not saying no, though, right?”

Steve glanced at him. “Yeah. I get that. Time and place. My bad. That one—” He pointed out a house where the lights, millions of them, were all blue and white. “That’s my sister Kelly and her husband, Jim. Jim is Jewish, so they compromise during the holiday season with blue-and-white lights. There’s the menorah, see?”

“You guys really take this…” They turned a corner and passed another highly decorated house. It had the lights, the music and a massive nativity made out of wire and lights, with animated deer that nibbled on grass around the holy family, who looked down at baby Jesus in the manger. “Is that one of yours?”

“Nah. That’s Bill Cove’s place. He’s just a competitive prick.”

Chandler didn’t know how he managed not to laugh. “I see.”

“He’s still pissed that Kelly wouldn’t go to prom with him.”

“So his…his is tacky.”

“Well, yeah. Of course it’s tacky. He doesn’t get it at all. Michael’s.” He pointed to a house that had a Warner Brothers theme. Big wooden cutout cartoon characters chased one another around the house and up the side, where they formed what looked like a hunting party led by Elmer Fudd, who held a sign that said, “I’m hunting Weindeer.”

“You people are
hilarious.
I’ll bet you get on the news, huh?”

“Yeah. We’ve been on all the local news channels and in the papers a lot over the years. My mom keeps a scrapbook. We’re almost to my place, do you want to go there or would you like to see the rest?”

“How many more are there?”

“Just my folks’ place. Two of my sisters live out of state.”

“So, let me see, there’s Michael, Dave, Mark and John. Kelly and two more? Plus you?”

“Fiona and Sophie. Big family. I know. We’re the local chapter of the Irish mob.”

“I just have one brother and one sister.” Chandler felt that sock to the gut that he always got when he remembered. “
Had.
”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Now my sister Courtney’s in the hospital and she might be having her baby prematurely.”

“Do you know which hospital? You could call from my place as soon as we get home.”

“Thanks, I will.”

“So? My place or look around some more?”

“I think we should go to your place. I need to get Poppy settled and find out how Courtney’s doing.”

“All right. I have a spare room and you guys could share it.”

“Thanks for that. Poppy can take the bed. I can sleep on the couch or the floor.”

“I have an air mattress one of you can use and then you could stay in the same room together. Either way, it’s up to you. I’m easy.”

That sounded so reasonable. Chandler peeked back at Poppy. “Can I tell you something? I’m a little stressed out about having Poppy.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to mess up,” Chandler admitted.

“Most people worry about kids. Were you and your brother close?”

“Yeah.” Chandler tried to find the words to describe his brother. Two years older, organized, intelligent, hardworking. Genuinely caring. “I think he was my best friend. My mentor. My rock. They asked me to be Poppy’s godfather and I was so honored.”

“But you feel like you might screw up? Is that because you don’t know much about kids? Or you think you might have problems because of what other people say about a single man raising a kid?”

“Both. They wanted it to be me. They even made a videotape, where each one of them said why they thought it was in Poppy’s best interest to stay with me.”

“So you only have to worry about common-sense things. You’ll get used to having a kid. It’ll get easier. Most things do.”

Chandler was just about to tell Steve that getting used to having a kid wasn’t what he was worried about when Steve pulled the car to the curb in front of a pretty little house. Very like the others, it was a typical Craftsman bungalow with a nice front porch. It stuck out in this festive neighborhood because it was unlit and undecorated, as remarkable as a tiny cactus plant growing in some lush tropical rainforest when you considered the ones belonging to his siblings.

“
This
is yours?”

“Yeah. Surprised, huh?” Steve pulled the keys from the ignition and got out.

“A little. I thought you’d be…more like your family. Awash with Christmas lights. Laden with decorations.”

“I am. Usually.”

“So what happened?

“I’ll tell you some other time. We’ll get your things and get you settled, and then I’ll pull my Honeybee into the garage. I’ll have to move my truck.” He waved the driveway. “That’s my work truck. It makes the place look like someone’s here when I’m not.”

Chandler read the sign on the door of the neat white utility truck. “Steve’s Painting Service? You have your own business?”

“Yeah.”

The truck featured a splashy rainbow pattern over the back fenders. “Not exactly subtle.”

“People do see me coming. A colorful truck puts me in people’s memories in a good way. They don’t always associate painting with a pleasant experience. I have this truck and four panel vans. It’s usually a pretty busy gig.”

“How many people work for you?”

“I have about ten regular painters, a woman who handles phones and accounts, and a Rolodex full of independent drywall and texture guys. But it’s slowed a lot since the economy went into the toilet. It slows during the holidays too, which I like.” Steve pulled Chandler and Poppy’s bags from the trunk of his car. “Let’s get you guys inside and settled. I’d love an ice-cold beer.”

“Oh, me too. I don’t suppose that would be a bad thing. I mean just one.”

“Sure, why not?”

“I don’t know. What if something happens and Poppy needs me? What if I have to drive her somewhere?”

Steve’s eyebrows rose. “How much does one beer affect you?”

“Not much, I guess. I drink a lot more than that sometimes. I don’t drive, but I’m fine. I’m just…nervous.”

“Have you been this tense since you’ve had her living with you?”

“I guess so. I’ve never been responsible for a kid before. I don’t know what to expect.”

“Expect the unexpected.” Steve’s smile was slow and sweet. “But it’s going to be fine, you’ll see. Everyone gets a little scared going in. I’ll take the bags, you bring your girl, all right? The bed’s made up and it’s clean, so you can just pop her in there and have a beer with me. If we need to drive somewhere and we’re not fit to do it, although I doubt one beer would make that much difference, I have a neighborhood full of people who can help.”

“Thanks, I am so glad you came along.” Chandler leaned in and unstrapped Poppy. She was the type of kid you could transfer from a car seat to a bed without waking. His brother and sister-in-law always joked about how lucky they were that she slept so well. For Chandler, since he was the type to study all possible outcomes of any situation, good or bad—what his brother had called finding a silver lining and looking for the cloud—her knack for sleeping so soundly sometimes kept him awake.

Chandler worried about things. Burglars and smoke detectors that might not wake her up, or…he didn’t even know what. But something about how trusting she was, how she fell asleep in his arms and counted on him to keep her safe through anything—bad decisions, illness, bogeymen, and acts of nature…that humbled him. And it scared the shit out of him.

“No problem.” Steve locked up the car and led him up a nice little landscaped path to the front door. When they got close, the porch light turned on, giving Chandler a start.

“Oh.” He jumped back.

“Jeez. Would you relax? It’s on a motion sensor.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, Chandler. I’m really happy to help. And I like you. A lot. Why don’t you consider leaning on me a little this weekend? Two pairs of hands and eyes, two brains. You can relax. Maybe I can get my mom and sisters in on it, and we can give you a break, all right?”

Inexplicably, Chandler wanted to refuse Steve’s offer. “It’s not that it’s so hard to take care of her. She’s great. She’s terrific. I really love her so much. I’m just—”

“Shh. It’s all right. We all need a little break sometimes.” Steve opened the door and tripped an alarm system sensor. A shrill whistle filled the air. He motioned Chandler in. “Second door down that hall on the right. I’ll get the alarm.”

“Thanks.”

Chandler moved though the house, which was lit by square flat nightlights plugged in to outlets wherever he went. He found the second door and entered the spare bedroom. It was pleasant. Chandler pulled the covers back with one hand and held Poppy until he could put her down with the other. He sat next to her and undid her shoes, removing her small lacy socks and tucking them in, leaving them beside her bed.

Steve came in with two more pillows. He kept his voice so low it sounded like a caress when he spoke, raising the hair on Chandler’s forearms and the back of his neck. “Is she a roller? I brought pillows in case. Or I can make up the air mattress so if she falls off she won’t hurt herself. I have a nephew who sleeps like a top. They finally put his mattress on the floor.