Meeting Mr. Christmas (Collier’s Creek Christmas)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“What the fuck, Peter? What the actual fuck?”

Noel had been asking Peter the same questions for the last two days, seventeen hours and thirty-three minutes. Excuse me. Thirty-four, as his watch tipped over the twelve. Peter, as before, had declined to answer. Except for ever more impressive side eyes, which were answers of a kind, Noel supposed.

He’d buried himself in work, on a food delivery app — as if the world needed any more of those — barely emerging from his apartment, his focus laser sharp, with only his little, farty, and extremely judgmental doxie for company, but when work was over for the day…

“Was Jed really about to kiss me? Or was that, you know, some kind of hallucination because I wanted it so much?”

Peter whined, and balanced himself on his two back legs, his cartoonishly large front paws jerking up and down.

“Is that it? Is that your answer? Give me treats, and I ’ ll tell you ?”

Peter licked his chops, and Noel sighed. So much for dogs being man’s best friend. Noel dug around in the treat bowl, placed well out of the way of his greedy pet. Peter snagged it, scampered to his basket and crunched down, Noel forgotten.

Best friend… Noel slumped back down into his squashy couch. That’s what Jed was, always had been. But now? Sure, he was still that, but now there was something else, something more that had never been there before. Wasn’t there? No, of course there wasn’t. He was fooling himself, his lack of success at the dating game making him imagine things. He was projecting his want, desire, and downright naked lust — no, he really didn’t want to think about naked or lust — onto the man who could never return all those feelings in the way Noel wanted.

“Oh, god…” Noel curled himself into a ball and squeezed his eyes closed. He needed to get a grip, and not keep pining for the unattainable. He snorted. Unattainable? The damn right impossible was more like it.

A thud of paws, followed by something wet and warm, swiped across his face. “Errgh, gross.” But Noel couldn’t help smiling as Peter, now fully treated, snuggled into him. “What am I going to do, boy? How do I get over this, this thing ? Maybe I should give the dating app another go?” Peter grunted. “You don’t think it’s a good idea?” Peter grunted again. Yeah, that ’ s really been going well for you. Maybe take up origami instead. Peter curled up and began to snore.

Noel’s phone pinged, and he fished it out from his pocket. He read the message and sat up straight, dislodging Peter, who barked his disapproval, before he padded down the short doggie ramp at the end of the couch and sought refuge in his basket.

Hey, you there?

Yep. I ’ m home , Noel keyed in, his return message as short as Jed’s. He’d barely pressed ‘send’ before his cell rang.

“You okay? Other than a ‘sorry but I’m really busy’ message, I’ve not heard from you since you ran out the other night. Mom’s convinced you’ve been kidnapped because you forgot to take your pie with you.”

“I have been kidnapped. By work. The project I’m part of, the deadline’s looming.” It was sort of true, because there wasn’t a time when deadlines weren’t looming.

Jed sighed down the phone, and Noel wanted to groan.

“I was wondering why you weren’t getting back to me properly when I sent you a message.”

Because you ’ re too damn distracting, Jed. “Sorry,” Noel rasped, the word feeling like burning coals being dragged across gravel. “But I couldn’t let myself get distracted.” Ha, ha, ha, was that some kind of sick joke?

“Okay. I get it. Been kinda busy at Lucian’s. What is it with Christmas and flowers? There’ve been so many special orders and we’ve been working late to get everything done in time.”

“You love it. And it pays your salary.” Noel smiled when Jed laughed

“You’re right, I do. A florist was the last thing I thought I’d end up becoming. I owe it to you, for giving me the push I needed.” Noel could hear the smile in Jed’s voice. “But I ain’t working late this Thursday. And neither are you.”

“What?” Maybe Jed could come over. Maybe they could have that movie night they kept talking about. Maybe they could hunker under his softest, coziest fleece blanket with popcorn and beer and Jed could make his pithy, acerbic comments about the movie, and?—

“… party at Connor’s. Should be fun.”

“Erm, party? Who has a party on a Thursday?”

“I know, but whatever. It’s free food and drinks, right? Anyhow, we’re going. I’ll pick you up at eight.”