Just For The Holidays (Home for the Holidays)

4. Teddy

Chapter 4

Teddy

You steer, I’ll push

” We should move your car off the street.” Teddy plops his mug on the dash of the rusty Ford Ranger, scooping up the rogue splatter escaping the rim with his finger, and tosses the bag of bagels onto a pile of boxed-up pastries in the extended cab.

Nichol drops his foot back into the icy puddle. Frigid water seeps through tight Italian-crafted seams and bites his toes as he back steps away from the old truck, “The battery is dead. It won’t budge.”

“We can push it. C’mon.” Teddy jerks an arm in the air and slams the creaking door, echoing down empty Main Street.

Nichol huffs, but follows behind him.

Teddy’s boots tromp through the salty slush while Nichol’s fancy loafers slip and skid along the slick tar, arms flailing to steady his teetering flounce.

“You steer and I’ll push.” Teddy directs, placing both palms on the back fin of the car, dropping into position behind the trunk.

Nichol falls into the driver’s seat and closes the door.

”Ready?” Teddy shakes his head and smirks.

“What do I do?” Nichol’s wide-eyed stare reflects in the rearview mirror, meeting Teddy’s gaze.

“Can you shift into neutral?”

“I don’t think this thing shifts?” He searches the dash and console for answers that aren’t there.

Teddy has no experience with fancy electric cars, he’s barely learned how to change the oil in his own block of rusted steel.

“Hmm? Come help me, maybe we can just slide it over on the slush?” he chuckles.

“I’ll just call the rental company to come collect it in the morning.” Nichol shrugs.

“We’ve still got to get it off to the side of the street, at least. People and plow trucks will be driving through soon.”

Nichol huffs again, but rolling out of the car with a can’t-be-bothered moan, he skates around the back and huddles at Teddy’s side.

“Okay,” Nichol bites his lip.

Teddy grunts, red-faced, while Nichol feigns minimal effort, but the car shifts slowly, on the thin glaze of ice forming under the wheels, until Nichol’s loafers slip and he drops to his knees in the slush.

“Dammit.”

Teddy tries to catch him by the arm but nearly topples over too, bracing himself against the bumper.

“You okay?” Teddy giggles.

“I’m fine.” Nichol grimaces, struggling back to his feet with soaked knees and slush-caked designer shoes. “Is this good enough?’’ he brushes the gravel-gray snow off his legs.

“It’ll have to be…” Teddy bites back a chuckle. “Do you have luggage in there?.”

Nichol nods and shimmies back to the front, folding into the car to find the trunk’s release button.

Teddy ogles his slender glutes and long thighs, stressing taut dark denim. The man is beautifully preserved, like a fancy French Grenier in wax casing. He slips his tongue across parched lips as the latch pops and the car’s lid rises.

Teddy sloshes two rolling suitcases across the street and Nichol straps a large duffle across his body, hugging a cardboard box, and scooting back to the Ranger. They load the snow-filled truck bed and slip into their seats, buckling their safety belts.

“I should not have come back here,” Nichol grumbles, blowing heated breath into his fists, glaring at the abandoned Tesla, smugly gleaming under a street light.

Teddy twists the key. The truck ticks then rumbles, and finally roars to life as cold air rushes from the dashboard vents and a bellowing pop diva blares over static muffled speakers. His fingers fumble for the right dial to lower the volume.

“Sorry.”

Nichol chomps into his crusty chilled bagel sandwich and swigs lukewarm coffee.

“Are you staying with your parents?” Teddy cranks the steering wheel and the truck skids into the street.

“I’m staying with my sister. She lives on…”

“I know where Katie lives,” Teddy interrupts.

“Great.” Nichol gnaws a mouthful of mush, washing it down with a rapidly cooling brew.

“How is she?” Teddy tries to fill the cab with conversation as best he can. “She hasn’t come into the shop for a long time.”

“Good, I guess.” Nichol sucks cream cheese off the tips of his fingers.

Teddy pours bitter coffee down his throat—he forgot the sugar—and sets the empty mug on the seat next to him, reaching for his wrapped bagel on the dash, he peels back the wax paper with hooked fingers and sinks his teeth into the crunchy bread with its gooey cream-cheese center.

“I’ve forgotten how terrible winter is here,” Nichol whines.

“It’s not like this in Seattle?”

“You know I live in Seattle?” Nichol’s brow furrows.

“This is a small town. Everyone knows your business.’’

“Great.” Nichol stares out the window.

“How was the drive here?”

“Long.”

Teddy browses his social database for more interesting topics he might have stored away. He’s always been awkward when he’s just trying to be friendly. There’s extra tension in the little cab, considering Nicholas Anderson had been the catalyst for his sexual awakening back in middle school.

A group of kids in the three grades between them were teasing Teddy on the school bus one morning, but Nichol invited him to share the same seat, ushering him into safety next to the window, glaring and guarding him until the bullies submitted and moved on to someone else.

Nichol turned to little Teddy with glittery blue eyes, grit teeth, and a “screw them” growl that lit embers in his belly and the first hard swelling in his pants. That crush carried on for years until Nichol moved away for college.

He owes him a stimulating chat, at the very least.