Tastes Like Sugar (Collier’s Creek Christmas)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

HAYES

“Your usual?”

My smile comes easily. Not only am I in my favorite store in town, but Cam’s cute, in a whole sexy, scruffy, boy-next-door sort of way.

Then, of course, there’s the fact that there’s been a huge WTF moment in the last hour involving the man I’ve been getting stiffies over since our hot-as-hell night together.

Like, holy shit! I’m going to be working with him. That means he’s not leaving town, which honestly makes my smile grow even wider.

“Maybe, but I’m waiting for someone, so we’ll order together. Thanks, Cam. I’m just going to grab a table.”

With a smile, Cam nods, his attention swiftly moving to a couple of customers behind me. It’s busy this morning. Though it is most mornings I’m here. Rather than the cool temperature encouraging people to stay home, I swear it brings folks out.

At least it’s not snowing yet. But according to the radio forecast I heard on the way to CC’s, give it a day or two and that’ll all change.

I find a seat at the window. It’s tucked into the corner a little, which draws me to it.

It’ll give us a little privacy to chat. From Sully’s reaction, I know it’s needed. Because, hello… he’s Rhys’s uncle. I did not see that coming. At all. As in, color me surprised and put me in a room full of jack-in-the-boxes.

I know for a fact that Rhys’s uncle’s not been out here for years, or at least not while Rhys still lived here. If he had, I’d know about it and have met him. With Rhys’s grandparents living about thirty miles away, his folks tend to head that way a lot for visits. I’m assuming Tom—I scrunch my nose. Nope, he’s definitely a Sully. So yeah, I suspect Sully visits them and catches up with his family there.

But back to the holy fuck reveal.

My best friend’s uncle. It doesn’t matter that Rhys and I haven’t lived in the same town as each other since we left high school—I still count him as one of my two best friends. I worry my bottom lip, not sure how Rhys will react to discovering that not only did I fuck his uncle, but I’m keen to get to know the man.

Not that I’ll give Rhys specifics, obviously. Gross for him and talk about awkward.

I look at my phone, my knee bouncing.

It’s a weird sensation, balancing my eagerness to see Sully with my nervousness.

Point me in the direction of a burning building or a grassfire, and I’m all over it, no nerves in sight.

Leave me to my thoughts to overthink, and apparently, I turn into a mound of mush.

What if Sully regrets our hot-as-fuck time together?

Concern bubbles through me. Holy shit, what if this is all in my head, and we weren’t as good together as I’ve made up in my memory?

I pause and take a deep breath before rolling my eyes. And not even in my head. Sure, Mrs. Hendricks gives me a strange look, but I’m okay with that. But back to the eye-rolling. Of course bad sex is more likely the reason for his regrets rather than him simply patting me on the head and saying it was fun but can never happen again because of the more pressing issues of work and him being Rhys’s uncle.

Shit. I have no clue how I’m supposed to handle this without coming across as needy.

I’ve never struggled to find a willing partner. But that’s not the point.

And fuck, I’m spiraling and out of breath just with my thoughts.

Though seriously, do you know how easy it is to score when you’re a young gay firefighter? Not that I’ll be sharing that number anytime soon because my momma raised me better than that, and my dad, well, let’s just say, he might give me a sneaky high five but then would follow up with a cringe lecture about safe sex and statistics about STIs and oral without a condom.

I shudder at the thought of a repeat of that conversation we’ve had not once but twice.

But back to Sully…. I stand immediately, thoughts cutting off when he enters the coffee shop. He smiles at Cam, and wings take flight in my gut.

My mouth turns dry, he’s that sexy. His smile lands on the sweet side of coy, making him so ridiculously appealing that I’m instantly reminded why I enjoyed spending time with him.

“Sully.”

At the sound of his name, his gaze immediately lands on me, and there it is. That same delicious smile that he aimed my way three nights ago. The problem is the quick widening of his eyes and the drop in the brightness of his smile after a couple of seconds.

Fuck.

“Hayes, hey.”

Forcing my worry away, I grin wide, the expression genuine. “You made it.” I drink him in. His cheeks are rosy from the cold, and his shoulders seem to lose their tension once properly inside the welcoming warmth of CC’s.

When he steps closer, he hesitates, seeming to debate it a second before he reaches out.

I’m not sure if I hide my scrutiny, but I can appreciate this must be awkward for him. Me? Not so much. After the sex we had and the time we spent hanging out, I refuse to let go of the sensation of how he made me feel.

Not second-guessing—despite my move likely being inappropriate as hell—I take his hand willingly, only to tug him close and hug him hard. He lands against my chest with an “ Ooff ,” and he follows up with a chuckle as I pat his back. His coat’s cold, his skin freezing.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I say close to his ear before stepping back to take in his features. Beyond all of this morning’s reveals, I haven’t forgotten the genuine fear when I saw him stuck up that tree. My own or his.

That’s nothing to ignore or mock.

“You are okay, right?” Sure, he wasn’t harmed, but he was definitely frightened.

The pink touching his cheeks is charming as fuck. It’s morphed from the pink only the cold can create to something else. He’s making it pretty damn tricky to not swoon hard and immediately invite him back to my place for a morning fuck before I pass out for a few hours.

“Yeah, I am. Thanks to you,” he responds, rubbing the back of his head. While Sully’s making eye contact, that one move tells me pretty much everything.

He’s remembering and feeling super awkward.

I hate that. But what I am is impressed as hell that I can read him.

Assuming I’m reading him right.

Ask Cap and she’ll tell you I couldn’t read between the lines if it was printed in 500-point font and surrounded by flashing neon lights.

Maybe I should just come right out and talk about three nights ago. That night, if he’d been able to carry my weight, I would have climbed him like a tree and begged him to stay when he left. But the faint blush sitting high on the apples of his cheeks has me believing bringing it up isn’t the right move.

“How about I order us food and drinks, and then we can talk?”

Pancakes that have been obviously soaked in sugar and something hot and frothy in both our guts will make all of this so much better.

I indicate for him to sit with a smile and an up-nod. “My treat, remember.”

Seeming relieved to have something to do rather than stand beside me, he nods and starts tugging off his woolen gloves. They look warm and good quality. I know a thing or two about knitting because Cap got me into it a few years back. Something about trying to get me to “sit my ass down before she glued me to the chair.”

Weirdly it worked. The whole monotonous task is soothing and captures my attention, and I can usually keep at it for a good hour before I need to have a wander and see what else I can get into.

“That’d be great, thanks.” He peers around the coffee shop, and I smile, taking the place in with fresh eyes.

I love this shop, could get legit heart eyes just thinking about it. CC’s is pretty much the hub for locals. Not only is the coffee amazing, but I usually come away with gossip and having had at least five different conversations.

Honestly, I’m surprised Francine hasn’t already approached me. We’ve been exchanging knitting patterns for a couple of years now, and last week she told me she’d started work on a sweater for Hank. With Christmas just around the corner, making something similar for Dad would be cool. Though, maybe I should have started on it last Christmas for that to happen.

“What’s good here?”

“Pretty much everything. I’m going for a pancake stack. It’ll sort me out before I get a few hours of sleep and tide me over until I head out for tonight’s feed.” Sully finally settles into the comfortable chair, and I check, “Nut allergy, right?”

Immediately, his brows shoot high. “Yeah.”

I bob my head and smile, pleased I got that right. Sure, it’s only been sixty hours or so, but exhaustion dances in my periphery. Not that I don’t remember pretty much everything about our time together.

“I’ve got you covered. Cam is awesome when it comes to allergy knowledge and shit. Black coffee, two sugars?”

His eyes widen even further, but I don’t have it in me to be embarrassed. So what if I remember pretty much everything about the random shit we discussed? Sully left his mark.

“Err… yeah, thanks, Hayes.”

“Great.” I shoot him a wink, grinning a little manically as I step toward the counter. “Hey, Cam.”

Cam turns from the coffee machine and shoots me a warm smile. “Hey, Hayes. You ready to order?”

I nod. “Sure am.”

He steps over to the cash register, dropping a cloth to the side. “What’ll it be?”

He’s sensible to double-check. Obviously, Cam knows he’s one of my favorite people in town because of his kick-ass barista skills, but he also knows I like to occasionally mix it up. Especially with the new holiday drinks on the menu.

“Coffee, no milk or cream for Sully.” There’s sugar on the table that he’ll be able to add himself.

Cameron peers over my shoulder, head angled and assessing. “Is that Abigail’s brother?”

For real? Cameron knew Sully’s connection to my best friend’s family, but I didn’t? I definitely need to attend our knitting circle sessions more regularly. It looks like I’ve been missing out on gossip. “Sure is.”

“I hear he got a new job at the station.”

I part my lips, releasing a snort. At some point since I last saw Sully, he accepted the job. That’s a given, since he was uncertain about his plans on Thursday. It’s only Sunday. I swear, gossip spreads quicker than wildfire in this town. “That’s what I heard.”

He bobs his head. “That’s good for Marge. I know she’s been keen to retire for a while now.”

He’s speaking the truth. Marge is as awesome as she is fierce. She’s edging close to seventy and runs our firehouse like a drill sergeant. Sure, technically Cap’s in charge, but I’m not convinced any of us really believe that. “She’ll finally get to go on that world cruise she’s been desperate for.” I grin, happy for her.

I’m even happier that Sully’s sticking around.

“It’s great news. So, one coffee, no cream or milk…,” he prompts.

“Let’s go for two pancake stacks, and I’d like a caramel macchiato with an extra dollop of whipped cream, some of that caramel powder you have, and a sprinkle of cocoa.”

Damn, just the description makes me salivate.

Cameron’s lips twitch as he rings up my order. “Long night?”

“Long forty-eight hours.”

“Ah, makes sense.”

He doesn’t even attempt to question my logic of inhaling so much sweet stuff before chasing sleep. I’ve ordered enough sugary goodness since he’s been back in town that he understands my caffeine and sugar addictions.

I pay, and he lets me know the drinks will be brought over soon and that we shouldn’t be waiting too long before our breakfast is ready.

With a smile, I turn, lips twitching when I see Sully’s no longer alone.

Admittedly, after spending five years in SoCal, coming back to small-town living took a little adjustment. I’m pretty sure I wore the same wide-eyed “what the hell is happening” stare a time or five when accosted by one of the more seasoned locals.

That’s the exact look Sully has right now as Mr. DuPont stands next to him, cell phone in hand, apparently showing him photos. Heck, it could be a Facebook exchange or something for all I know.

Photographs of his knitted sailor doll collection is more likely, though.

“Hey.” I step to the table and immediately sit down, facing Sully and appreciating a little too much his pink cheeks and round eyes as they practically beg me to save him.

Do I have a hero complex? Damn straight I do.

Whether it’s burning buildings, using the Jaws of Life, or rescuing a gorgeous guy from a tree—along with a pain-in-the-ass cat—I’m here for it.

“Food shouldn’t be long,” I offer, grinning wide at Mr. DuPont. “How’s your morning going, Mr. DuPont? All okay in the world of aliens and secret government bunkers? You know, I heard the lizard people are a problem this time of year.”

Mr. DuPont eyes me, not warily necessarily, but more like he knows I’m trying to get rid of him.

Not that he’d be wrong. While Mr. DuPont is a good soul, the last thing I want is for Sully to be dragged into a discussion about whatever conspiracy theories he’s currently obsessing over. Not that it can’t be fun engaging, but I kinda want Sully to myself.

Before Mr. DuPont has a chance to respond, I say, “You know, the festival is in full-scale planning at the moment. JoBeth said they’re looking for extra Santa’s elves. I said I’d help them gather recruits. You interested?”

Mr. DuPont narrows his gaze. “You know what I think of the whole festival nonsense.”

“Aw, Mr. D., come on, I’m sure I saw you sipping eggnog in the festive tent last year. I’m pretty certain I saw that mistletoe get a workout too.”

It’s only the latter I’m totally bullshitting about. Mr. DuPont might say he’s not a fan of Collier’s Creek winter festivities, but I’ve seen him enjoying at least an element of it every year.

“You know, I think Mr. Henry might be doing the costume fittings.”

I’m going to hell. I flick a glance at Sully, who’s looking on, bemused.

What he doesn’t know is that the word on the street is, Mr. DuPont has been lusting after Mr. Henry for at least twenty years. The same gossip was rife when I was a kid.

Mr. DuPont shuffling his feet captures my attention. I have a moment of guilt when pink touches his cheeks, but the whole elf-costuming thing with Mr. Henry, a man who’s been single for as long as I remember, isn’t bullshit.

“I’m not sure me getting involved by being dressed as an elf is the best idea.”

Huh. That’s not a no.

Interesting.

I lose the teasing edge in my tone. “How about you think about it and let me know in a couple of days?”

With that, he bobs his head, tucks his phone away, and hightails it out of CC’s.

Watching him leave, I mull our exchange over.

“That was….” Sully trails off, though his voice captures my attention completely.

“Have you met Mr. D. before?”

With a shake of his head, Sully toys with the sugar on the table. “No. I can’t say I have.”

I grin. “There’s a whole town of interesting folks who’ll be eager to get the lowdown on you.”

“Why does that sound strangely ominous?”

I blink at him. What the fuck does that word mean?

“It sounds like I should be scared.”

My smile widens when he clarifies, and there’s a gentle flip in my gut over the fact that he didn’t make me feel foolish. I study him, taking in his bright eyes. “I’ll protect you.”

His brows shoot high. “I need protecting?”

“It’s kinda my thing.” I shrug, not losing the teasing in my tone.

A chuckle spills from Sully. “I’ll keep it in mind if I need rescuing, but I’m pretty sure I can handle myself.”

I’m sure he doesn’t intend for that to invite my attention, but I can’t help it. I dip my gaze lower and take my time letting it roam his body. “I know you can more than take care of yourself.” I clamp my mouth shut before I’m tempted to add, “And me.” Even though it’s absolutely true. He took such good care of me. Twice, in fact.

It’s that thought that has me pushing full steam ahead. That and I have zero chill. “I’ve thought about you a lot.”

“Umm.” Once again, he rubs at the back of his neck.

“I’m kinda guessing you left because we’ll be working at the station together?” I ask.

“You being a firefighter took me by surprise.”

“So Abigail doesn’t gift you a Wyoming firefighter calendar for Christmas, then?” I ignore his wince at the mention of his sister’s name and plow on. “That’s good to know. You’ll be easy to buy for this year. I’ll make sure I get you for Secret Santa at work.” If he had received the calendar, I have no doubt he would have had the calendar flipped to February this past year, and March the year before, and then November the year before that all year round.

His brows dip. “What? Should I know what that means?”

I know I shouldn’t brag, but… “There’s a Wyoming charity firefighter calendar every year.” I try to keep my shrug casual, but I’m not sure I manage it very well. Sully’s eyebrows shoot high.

“And you’re in it?”

“Next year’s is the fourth year in a row.”

He dips his gaze to my chest, and it’s all I can do to stop from puffing it up. I’ve worked hard to build and keep my strength and fitness. It’s a labor of love. Looking good, regardless of how some like to tease, isn’t the mission. Being a firefighter is a calling. It’s what I was born to do.

The whole six-pack and having people drool over me is just a boost. I’m proud of what I’ve achieved. My ability to charge into danger and carry people out of burning buildings has saved more people than I can count. And I’ll keep doing so as long as I’m able.

I landed a spot in a coveted calendar—well, coveted if you’re in the Wyoming Fire Department—and continue to help raise thousands of dollars for homeless shelters and rural locations like Collier's Creek that rely solely on volunteers. So, damn straight, I’ll share my achievements.

“And do you….” He trails off, eyes widening a fraction as pink creeps up his neck.

“Do I what?” When he stays quiet, I smirk, asking, “Have photos?”

He rolls his eyes and huffs out an amused laugh. Less than seventy-two hours ago, we were naked and as up close and personal as two men can get. That he’s being coy now, I’m kinda digging.

“Let’s get back to me being surprised.”

Amusement bubbles in my chest, but not wanting to scare the poor guy away, I nod. “You were surprised, left, but accepted the job anyway?”

“I did.”

“Collier’s Creek grew on you, huh?” I want to push, tease a little more. Perhaps praise my cock for helping Sully make his decision, but that may be pushing things a little far. Especially as we’re sitting in the middle of the coffee house.

There’s a steady murmur of conversation around us, and being tucked away a little gives us some semblance of privacy, but it wouldn’t take much effort for someone to lean in to listen.

While I like to hear gossip, I don’t pass on what I hear too often. Nor do I want it to be about me and Sully and how amazing it felt being buried inside him. Which is absolutely not what I should be thinking about. Again.

“I think it’s awesome you took the job,” I add, wanting to pull my thoughts and the conversation back on track.

“Me too. Zoey’s great.”

I think about the familiar exchange between Sully and Cap over on Cottonwood Avenue this morning.

The scent of coffee growing stronger distracts me, and movement to my side lets me know my caffeine fix is here. I glance up and grin at Cam.

“Damn, that smells so good.”

Cam chuckles. “Here you go.” He places my coffee before me and does the same for Sully’s straight black.

Immediately, I pick up a spoon and dive right in, taking a big mouthful of whipped cream. I sag in happiness, embracing the sugary goodness.

“Cam, you’re a genius. Thanks, man.”

He snorts. “You haven’t even tried the coffee yet.”

I scoff and brush away his words. “As if this isn’t going to be heaven in a cup.”

Sully’s light chuckle captures my attention completely. I cast my gaze on him. His smile is bright and real, and I swear he looks a few years younger. Not that he looks old.

And he’s not “dad” old. Abigail celebrated her fiftieth birthday maybe eight or so years ago. I don’t recall exactly. I just remember Rhys telling me she took a big trip to Europe. The point is, there are a few years between Sully and his sister.

He’s still three years away from fifty. And honestly, he’s hot and fun and easy to talk to. The sex was in-fucking-credible.

Cam’s “Alrighty then, your pancakes won’t be long” barely registers. I’m too busy drinking in Sully’s smile and thinking about his ass.

I am aware we’re left alone again, or as alone as we can be in a bustling coffee shop.

“So, Rhys.” I pause, searching his eyes. Most people I’m sure would leave this be, but fuck if I’m not tenacious.

And don’t get me started on how I know the meaning of that word. All I’ll say is, Cap would take credit for it.

As soon as I mention my best friend’s name, a flicker of memory slams into me that has my gut churning. Rhys and I talk a couple of times a month, and occasionally, he shares random information about his family. Sometimes even about his Uncle Tom.

The first thing I need to check: “You got engaged or married, right?”

Surprise registers in his expression, but he doggedly stirs his coffee, having put in a spoonful of sugar. He glances away briefly before seeming to straighten out his spine. “Engaged… for a short while.”

His tone makes me wince. “I didn’t know that part.” I twist my lips before admitting, “Honestly, is that something I should be giving you condolences for or saying congrats about getting out before you got married? I never know what to say.”

A small smile forms as he makes eye contact, seeming a little more relaxed at hearing my words. “There’s no ‘sorry’ needed, and yeah, I suppose ‘congratulations’ seems a little… I don’t know, bad taste?”

“Well, unless your ex was a fuckface and deserves a nut punch as well as you calling it quits. Then maybe you celebrated hard and had a wild party or something. My friend Shelly did that a few years back when he split from his fiancé. Had a rager and an orgy.” Fuck if it hadn’t been one hell of a night.

A huff of surprised laughter escapes Sully. “Well, I didn’t have any of that, but I’m kind of wishing I had.”

While he’s smiling, sadness clings to his tone, and his response? Yeah, his ex no doubt was a fuckface. Not mincing words, I say, “So he was an asshole. In that case, you definitely deserve to shed that part of your life.”

And I absolutely have just the offer.

Before I can share my brilliant idea, Sully’s “I already did” catches my breath. My gaze snaps to his, and I soak up the warmth in his expression and the curve of his small smile.

“Yeah, I suppose you did.” And fuck if I’m not happy I was involved in that. I think. Shit, he is talking about what happened a few nights ago, right? I usually… okay, occasionally keep my ego in check. Before I can blurt my thoughts out, Will appears with our pancakes.

“Here you go. We made sure to add extra cream and syrup on your cherries, Hayes.” He places my giant stack that’s lashed in so much sugar, I’m sure it would make most people enter some sort of sugar coma. Not me.

“You’re the best, Will, thanks.” I grin up at him. “Games are starting this week, right?” I ask, referring to the school basketball team that was formed last year by Colton, his other half. The team is young and the kids super green, but I’m sure in a few years, once the kids hit high school, Colton will have one hell of a team on his hands.

“This Friday. Should be fun. You planning on coming?”

“Hell yes. I won’t be on shift.” I’m also a hardcore basketball fan, both League and college.

“Great.” He glances at Sully. “You’re Abigail’s brother, right?”

“That’d be me.”

They shake hands and introduce themselves.

“If you’re still in town and like kids fumbling with balls and half-assing their way through a basketball game, the more, the merrier.” Will follows up with a laugh.

“Well, with a sales pitch like that, I’ll see what I can do.” Sully grins.

With a nod, Will says, “Sounds good. I’ll leave you fellas to it. Enjoy,” before he backs away.

Friday night—we could make it a date. If he wanted. The hot pancakes tempt me to dive on in, but my brain’s stuck on possibility… the possibility of hooking up, seeing him more, starting something more serious.

It’s not like I’m actively looking for something permanent—a boyfriend, a husband, a lifelong partnership. But last year, I swear there was something in the water in town. So many new relationships started up.

It kinda gets a guy thinking that maybe having someone to love, to come home to, to care about with their whole heart doesn’t sound like the worst way to live.

I take a bite. The sweetness of the pancake is comforting, the buttery, fluffy layers soaking up the syrup in a way that makes each bite just what I need to help get my thoughts together. I focus on the mix of textures and flavors, letting the richness melt on my tongue, hoping to drown out the uncertainty that’s lingering in my mind.

I’m more unsettled by the revelations than I’ve admitted to myself, let alone to Sully. Maybe I should let this go. But I'm struggling to move past our night together. Do I think there’s something there? Maybe. The thing is, I’d like to find out and want the chance to get to know him.

I cut my thoughts off with a “Right…,” not exactly sure what I plan to say.

“Rhys.”

I jump on his words, relieved he’s picking up this conversation. I nod. Parting my lips, I pause. I have no idea what to say. How to begin. I contemplate for the barest of seconds before simply going for it.

“We can go to Friday’s game together if you want. Maybe go for a couple of beers and food afterward.” I pick up my cutlery again, waiting for his expression to settle before cutting into my pancake stack.

“I’m not sure if that’s a great idea.”

While my gut tightens, I’m not surprised by his response. “Because of Rhys.”

“And we’re going to work together.”

“And you think both are a problem?”

Sully casts his gaze around when the table close by fills up with a couple and a toddler. When he focuses back on me, he says, “Yes.”

I shove a forkful of syrup-soaked pancake into my mouth, trying to savor the sweetness and drown out the sourness of rejection. It helps, a little.

I need to change tack. We’re both still reeling—of that, I’m sure.

“So, this fresh start in a new town, new job—it all sounds pretty damn awesome. And just in time for the festive season.” A sly grin takes over, only a little forced as I try to let go of my lingering disappointment at Sully’s reluctance. “There’s definitely still openings for Christmas elves.”

He snorts out a laugh, and any weird tension dissipates.

This I can do. Make him smile. Slowly win him over.

Talk to Rhys, even.

I’m not sure yet. The only thing I’m certain of is, Sully’s got my attention, and I’m sure if I really try, I can talk him into going on a date with me. If that fails, I definitely will be putting the calendar in his Christmas stocking.