Christmas Beau (Christmas Falls: Season 2)

Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

“ S ooooooo.”

Sitting on the floor of Festival Hall inside Festival Museum, Scott looked up from the garment rack he was assembling and blinked at his son. “So?”

Teddy, sitting against the wall with his legs kicked out, grinned. “How long have you had the hots for Hank?”

“What?” Scott dropped one of the wheels, and it went skittering into his boxes of products. He glanced around furtively, hoping no one had heard, but everyone else was too busy setting up their wares for the Arts and Crafts Fair that started tomorrow. “I don’t... I’m not... What...?” He took a breath, sending Teddy a look when he began to giggle silently. “How do you even know what that means? Have the hots for someone.”

“I’m twelve.”

“I’m twelve,” Scott repeated, pitching his voice higher, sending Teddy into more giggles. Fighting his amusement, Scott said, “Remember when I said we can talk about anything? I didn’t mean this.”

“Too late.” Teddy grabbed the wayward wheel and sent it rolling over the floor toward Scott. “Tell me everything.”

“There’s literally nothing to tell.” Scott attached the final wheel, stood, and righted the rack. On his right, a woman and her daughter were setting up their own table, hanging handmade mala bracelets on little felt standees. No one had appeared to claim the table on his left yet, but a sign said it was reserved for Bailey’s Dog Treats.

“You called him hunk.” Teddy snickered. “It was amazing. I mean, the second-hand embarrassment was real, but it was also amazing.”

Scott chuckled despite himself as he started pulling quilts from a box and sliding them onto hangers. At the time, he’d wanted to melt into the floor, but he could admit, two days later, that his Freudian slip had been funny. Scott had wanted to flirt, not act like a complete dork. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. See if I don’t tease you when you blush the next time we unexpectedly run into Hailey at one of the holiday events.”

“I didn’t blush the last time. I never blush.”

“You were the color of your grandma’s favorite tree ornament. You know that shiny red one that sparkles under the light?”

“Remember when you said we can talk about anything?” Teddy asked, parroting Scott’s words back at him. “I don’t think you meant this.”

“You thought wrong, kiddo.” Scott gave Teddy’s foot a light kick. “Are you going to help or what?”

“What do I get for helping?”

Scott raised an eyebrow at him. “A roof over your head and three meals a day?”

“And an extra allowance this week?” Teddy asked hopefully.

“Nice try, kiddo.”

Teddy’s gaze slid past Scott. “I think I’ll just sit here and watch the next disaster happen.”

“What disaster?”

“Hank’s coming this way.”

“What?” Whirling, Scott managed to both drop the quilt and trip over Teddy’s legs. He would’ve landed on his ass if the wall hadn’t been there to catch him.

“See?” Teddy muttered. “Disaster.”

Hank stood several feet away. He’d clearly been pushing the loaded dolly when he’d stopped, because his fingers were still clasped around the handle, and his muscles still strained against his T-shirt. He eyed Scott with concern and straightened to his full height, which, while the same as Scott’s, somehow made Scott feel smaller. Scott had been as built as Hank once, but losing one’s job was stressful.

Some people stress ate. Scott stress quilted. And cleaned. And tried not to look at his dwindling bank balance every five seconds.

Food was an afterthought.

God, Hank looked good. Even in faded jeans and a long-sleeved dark gray T-shirt, he looked like a million bucks, while Scott had chosen sweatpants and an old, faded University of Chicago T-shirt that had a hole in the armpit as today’s ensemble, thinking he didn’t need to look nice just to set up his products. He’d topped the look with mismatched socks, a pair of battered sneakers, and his trusty Vancouver Orcas AHL hockey ball cap because he hadn’t bothered to shower and his hair looked like a bird’s nest. Several birds’ nests.

“Are you okay?” Hank asked, his deep voice sending shivers up Scott’s spine. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“Uh . . .”

“He’s fine.” Teddy rose and waved a dismissive hand. “Probably just bruised his ego.”

Hank frowned at Teddy. “What?”

Teddy sighed, and it sounded so forlorn that it almost made Scott laugh. “God, adults are so dense sometimes. Murphy’s over there setting up. I’m going to go say hi.”

“Don’t get in his way,” Scott muttered absently, keeping one eye on Hank and one on Teddy as he crossed the room to Murphy’s table. As the town’s resident gnome carver, he had a larger display table than most. Jem Knight—Murphy’s now retired NFL player boyfriend—was setting up a display of miniature gnomes, and both he and Murphy had a smile for Teddy when he approached.

Straightening off the wall, Scott sent Hank a game smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Hank nodded at the tabletop banner with Scott’s logo and social media info that Scott had unrolled but left on the floor since he hadn’t finished setting up yet. “Hey, Kiddo,” Hank said, reading Scott’s business name off the sign. “Is that you?”

“Uh, yeah.” Stooping, Scott picked up the quilt he’d dropped and held it up for Hank to see. It had a bunny and floral design on one side and white flowers against a pale green background on the other. “I do heirloom baby quilts.”

“Nice.” Hank stepped into Scott’s little eight by eight square of the hall and ran his fingers gently along the stitching.

Ah fuck, Hank smelled good too. So unfair.

“This is beautiful. And so soft. I don’t suppose you have a woodland creatures quilt?” Hank asked. “My brother’s wife is pregnant with their third, and they’re decorating the baby’s room in a forest theme.”

“Uh...” Scott repeated, because this man made him lose his vocabulary. “I do have a woodland creature quilt...” He glanced at his half dozen boxes. “Somewhere.”

“Set it aside for me when you find it, will you?”

“Uh... sure.” Had Scott just made his first sale as an Arts and Crafts Fair first-timer?

Hot damn!

He glanced past Hank at the dolly of boxes he’d been pushing a minute ago. “You’re a vendor too?”

“Yeah. In fact, this is me right here.” Hank pushed the dolly another couple of feet...

Stopping in front of Bailey’s Dog Treats.

Scott’s heart threatened to punch through his ribs and his hands went sweaty with nerves. Hank was his neighbor?

Oh boy.

“We’ll be closing up soon.” One of the volunteers supervising setup stepped up to Hank’s table. “There’s additional set-up time tomorrow morning before we officially open.”

Hank gave her a nod of thanks and she moved on up the row, repeating herself to the vendor next to him, who was setting up her display of hand-stamped jewelry.

Hank stole a glance over at Scott on his other side, who seemed to be finished with his own setup. Scott had been provided a six-foot table, just like everyone else, but he’d pushed it against the wall. On it, he’d placed his tabletop banner with his logo and social media handles, a stack of business cards, and a display of security blankets that looked as soft as baby hair. On the floor, he’d placed four large foam mats, and he’d assembled two garment racks, positioning one at each end of his space, creating an inviting little nook for his customers. The racks held a dozen quilts each in various patterns, from princesses and castles to spaceships and stars to cartoon dinosaurs and everything in between. Scott must not have found his woodland creatures quilt because he hadn’t ventured over to drop it off. It was too bad, because Hank had really been looking forward to gifting it to his brother and sister-in-law for Christmas.

Hank and his brothers were scattered across the United States and had been for more than a decade, so Beaufort family Christmases were a thing of the distant past. Their parents were still in Buffalo, New York, where Hank and his brothers had grown up, and each Christmas they joined one of Hank’s brothers for the holiday. Plane tickets were always outrageously expensive at that time of year, but Pete, Marty, and Vic were all former NHL players—they could afford to shell out a thousand bucks to fly their parents to them.

Hank, on the other hand, had worked a second job as a bouncer at a nightclub—the money had been just as bad as in the minor leagues—and a third job dog walking and pet sitting.

There was a surprising amount of money in dog walking and pet sitting. Not a lot, but more than he’d expected when he’d started.

Of course, three jobs that paid shit didn’t mean much in a city where a 500-square-foot studio apartment in Toronto’s Liberty Village cost $1600 a month in rent.

There’d been a shit-ton of dogs in his building, though, so he’d been kept busy when he wasn’t at practice.

Even with three jobs, Hank had never been able to afford to fly his parents to him for the holidays, so it was a good thing they hadn’t been far, just over the border in New York State. Hockey director jobs in small-town community centers didn’t pay well either, but it helped that the cost of living in Christmas Falls wasn’t anywhere near as high as it’d been when he’d lived in Toronto, where he’d played hockey for more than a decade.

Hank didn’t realize he was staring into space until the volunteer returned to give him a five-minutes-until-closing warning. Shaking himself into the present, Hank stepped back and took in his own display.

Unlike Scott, Hank had opted to make use of his entire table, though he had shifted it down a couple of feet to give himself room to stand beside it instead of behind it. He’d laid out a white tablecloth, and over that he’d draped a black table runner with his business name and logo. On wooden racks that had been built by a woodworker in Florida who was the brother of the friend of a former teammate, Hank had placed his five varieties of small-batch dog treats in their colorful bags.

Purple for the beef meatballs, green for the apple cinnamon rings, red for the chicken chewies, yellow for the peanut pumpkin bites, and blue for the cheese cubes. His table was a rainbow of color. Eye-catching, if he did say so himself, which had been the point of opting for colorful packaging.

“Knock, knock.”

Hank turned to find Scott hovering between their sections.

“Found it.” Scott unfolded the square of fabric in his hands, displaying a quilt with white flowers and baby animals—deer, bunnies, foxes, chipmunks, and hedgehogs—against a deep purple background. The reverse was a dark gray with tiny off-white hearts. “You’re not obligated to buy it, of course?—”

“Are you kidding?” Hank grasped the bottom and held it up so it lay almost flat between them. “It’s gorgeous. And I love that the colors are neutral.”

Scott chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve got a few girly blankets and a bunch of boy blankets, but the ones I sell the most of are the neutral ones.”

“Who’s Bailey?” Teddy asked. He stood in front of Hank’s table, eyeing his products, having somehow snuck around Hank and Scott without Hank noticing.

“My childhood dog,” Hank told him. “She was a seventy-pound goldendoodle who thought she was a lap dog.” He turned back to Scott. “What do I owe you?”

“How much are your dog treats?” Teddy asked before Scott could answer.

“Fifteen dollars a bag.” Hank let the quilt drop out of his hands as Scott began folding it up. “But the holiday fair special is two for twenty-five or three for forty.”

“I can use my allowance money to buy treats for Fallon, can’t I, Dad?”

“It’s your money,” Scott said, quilt folded over one arm. “You can do whatever you want with it except?—”

“Except buy drugs,” Teddy finished with an eye roll. “I know. Can I have this one, and this one, and this one?” He chose the meatballs, apple cinnamon rings, and peanut pumpkin bites, grabbing a bag of each from Hank’s display.

“Sure can.” Hank tapped the bag of meatballs. “This needs to go in the fridge once it’s opened.”

“’Kay.” Once he’d paid, Teddy tossed a “Thanks, Hank,” over his shoulder as he rounded the garment rack between their sections and grabbed his backpack off the floor, opening it to stuff his new goodies inside.

Hank jerked his chin in Teddy’s direction. “You’ve got a good kid there.”

Scott grunted. “I dread the day he turns into a moody teenager and hates everything about me.”

“Not all teenagers are like that.”

“You hear that, Universe?” Scott looked toward the ceiling and jerked a finger upward, as though stabbing the universe in the chest to make his point. “Not all teenagers are like that.”

Hank chuckled, his heart melting a little. Fuck, Scott was cute. “Let me pay for the quilt.”

“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?” The volunteer who’d come around earlier stood on a chair at the front of the hall. The room quieted, the few vendors still remaining turning in her direction. “We’re closing for the night, but we’ll reopen tomorrow morning at nine so you can finish setting up before we open at ten.”

“Here.” Scott held the quilt out to Hank.

“But I haven’t paid you yet.”

A smile lit up Scott’s eyes and he jerked his chin in the direction of Hank’s table. “We can settle up tomorrow. It’s not like I don’t know where to find you.” He looked like he was about to say something else, but Teddy complained about being hungry and wanting a snack, so Scott nodded once and shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you,” Hank said to his retreating back. He watched as Teddy gave Scott his coat and they walked side by side toward the doors. They were soon joined by a plaid-wearing broad-shouldered guy with dark hair and an equally dark beard, as well as another guy Hank recognized as the defensive end for the Charleston Condors, Jem Knight. Former defensive end, to be precise—Jem had recently retired after an injury. Which meant the plaid-wearing guy he was with must be his boyfriend, the gnome carver. Hank couldn’t remember his name.

Scott greeted them warmly, and if Hank envied them for the easy friendship, that was his own fault for avoiding town social events since he’d arrived.

Shaking his head, he replaced the three bags on his display that he’d just sold to Teddy, stored the boxes with his extra merchandise under the table, shrugged into his winter coat, and left.