The Map Home (Collier’s Creek Christmas)

Chapter 8

EIGHT

Tad

Inside, Tad shrieked, Yes! at the top of his lungs. To Dakota, he said, “Cool. Is double pepperoni good?”

“What? Are you still scared of vegetables? Can we get some black olives on it too?”

“Fine. I’m parked behind Logan’s shop. I’ll stop in at Gustoso. Meet at my place in half an hour?” Gustoso had been opened in the early 1970s by an Italian couple who’d moved to Wyoming of all places, and their kids and grandkids ran it now. The word meant tasty in Italian, and everything they served was delicious, but especially their pizza.

“How about I drive you to your truck?” Dakota suggested. “If you’re parked by Logan’s, what were you doing over here in the park?”

Tad felt his cheeks heat up but hoped that Dakota wouldn’t notice in the dark. “I’ll tell you while we’re eating. I’m too hungry to think straight right now.” He stared down at the crumpled, mostly frozen Santa costume. “I’ll leave this here for now in case whoever left it decides to come back and get it. But if it’s still here in the morning, I guess I’ll do something with it.”

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Dakota snapped a couple pictures of the pathetic object, the flash briefly illuminating the backstop and home base.

“What are you doing that for?” Tad asked. “It’s not a victim.” He laughed. “Although it looks like one.”

Dakota shrugged. “It is odd, I guess, that’s why. I’m a cop. Therefore, we now at least have some evidence if we need it.”

“You don’t think someone offed Santa?” Tad asked incredulously.

Another shrug. “Nah, but somebody went to the effort to dress up like Santa and then dispose of the costume.”

“Have you always been this suspicious?” Tad teased.

Dakota’s dark eyebrows drew together. “You do know me, right?”

Chuckling and shaking his head, Tad started toward Dakota’s truck.

Dakota stopped in front of Gustoso and Tad hopped out.

“I’ll park up the block and meet you inside,” Dakota said before Tad shut the door.

“Why?”

“To make sure you don’t ‘forget’ the olives.”

Tad rolled his eyes—even if Dakota had been right. He hated olives. And Dakota, inexplicably, loved them. “Maybe we should get two pizzas. We can catch up on Yellowstone .”

“ Yellowstone ,” Dakota grimaced. “Can we please watch something else? Anything else? What about Witcher or something like that? I never caught the last one.”

A car behind Dakota’s truck honked lightly.

“Fine, we’ll argue later.” Tad pushed the truck door shut, and Dakota drove off.

Inside, Gustoso was warm and smelled like pungent tomato sauce, herbs, and fresh dough. The owners had strung up Christmas lights too, giving the place an even more festive feel. Tad’s mouth started to water almost instantly. He was definitely splurging and ordering two pizzas. One of them would have no black olives fouling its flavor.

“Tad Gillespie! How lovely to see you. It’s been sometime since you’ve been in.” The woman who greeted him, Evie, was one of the founder’s four children. She’d taken over from her parents when they’d retired.

“Hi, Evie. How have things been?” Tad asked as he approached the front counter. He was disappointed to see that the dessert case was mostly empty.

“Busy with the tree lighting today,” she said.

“I bet it was.”

“What can we do for you? And are you staying, or taking away?”

“Two large pizzas to go. Double Pepperoni and?—”

“And a sausage, onion, black olives, and spicy salami, please,” Dakota said from behind him.

“To go,” Tad added.

While Evie tallied his order, Tad’s attention drifted behind her to the kitchen, where one of the cooks had started tossing a pizza skin into the air. Tad knew “skin” was the correct term because he’d done a story on the origin of Italian food in North America when he was in college.

Pizza toppings were about the only things he and Dakota disagreed over. Tad had researched the origins of the righteously hated (as it should be) or inexplicably revered (Dakota loved it, which Tad could not comprehend) Canadian bacon and pineapple pizza. He’d learned the pizza hadn’t been developed by an Italian or a Hawaiian at all, but instead by a Greek emigrant who’d lived in Ontario, Canada. Weird.

“Okay,” Evie said, smiling. “Give us twelve minutes. Would you like a water or something else to drink while you wait?”

They both said no and moved to sit at one of the tables covered with a red-and-white checkered cloth. Over their heads hung a variety of dusty Chianti bottles, all wrapped artistically in straw, along with salamis of all sizes tied up with twine, like calves at the rodeo. Tad was fairly sure they’d been hanging there since 1973.

They sat quietly, soft classical music and the conversations of other patrons enveloping them. Among other things, quiet was one of the things Tad loved about Dakota. He could be at ease with him. There was no need to pointless conversation, Tad could just sit and be. His constantly swirling brain, overflowing with ideas for stories for his blog and plans on how to break into the news business, relaxed when Dakota was around.

He had nothing to prove to Dakota and that in itself was amazing. Well, he amended, except for the fact that Dakota refused to take the next step past friendship. He was nearly one hundred percent sure Dakota had romantic feelings for him, but he refused to act on them. What was he scared of?

“What are you thinking about over there?” Dakota asked, breaking the silence.

Caught off guard, Tad almost said, “You,” but with a cough and an embarrassing half-choke on his own spit instead, he managed, “Santa Claus.” He was rewarded with a skeptical glance that said Dakota didn’t believe him at all.

“Tad, pizzas are ready.”

Saved by dinner. Tad stood up too quickly and almost knocked his chair over. For fuck’s sake already . Red-faced, he stepped to the register and pulled out his wallet to pay for dinner before Dakota could do or say anything.

Snatching up the hot boxes, Tad turned back around and faced his—faced Dakota. “Ready?”

“Yep. I’ll buy next time.”

After demolishing almost all of both pizzas and a couple cans of beer, he and Dakota sacked out on the couch in front of the TV with more beer, because why not. Tad took up one end, Dakota the other. Tad resisted the urge to tangle their feet together, instead sitting with one leg tucked under himself. They ended up watching an episode of Only Murders in the Building before switching to The Hitman’s Bodyguard . When the movie ended, Tad didn’t want Dakota to leave. Why should he leave?

He’d also had two more beers, which gave Tad the courage to bring up a worn-out argument. “You know, we could get a way nicer place if we both went in on something.”

They’d had this discussion before, but it had been a while. Dakota had some convoluted argument about friends and boundaries. Not that Tad didn’t understand or respect boundaries, but the way Dakota’d explained it made him feel like Dakota was using it to hide.

“There’s a two-bedroom for rent in the same building Curtis lives in—crap.” He sat up, looking around to make sure he knew where his phone was. “I need to check in on him tomorrow.”

“He’s still in the hospital, right?”

“Yeah, pretty sure. If not, he’s at the recovery facility. Either way, he’ll want me to check in.”

“So, what were you doing at the ball field tonight?” Dakota asked.

“Oh, right.” Tad scooted up so he could face Dakota. “I was tailing Honey Sweeting .”

“You were tailing Honey Sweeting?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“Tad…” Dakota growled.

“Kota…” Tad snarked back.

Raising his eyebrows, Dakota dead-eyed him back. Dammit and fuck. Dakota always won staring contests between the two of them.

Tad caved.

“Curtis doesn’t trust Honey, as you already know, and he said to make sure and keep an eye on her. So, when I saw her talking to a strange guy in the alley behind Odette’s?—”

“You immediately thought to yourself, ‘That’s suspicious so I need to follow her’?”

“Pretty much. Look, I don’t mean weird like strange. I mean, she was talking to someone I didn’t know. Of course, I don’t recognize everyone in town, not by a long shot, but I at least recognize most folks. And it’s not tourist season, not really. So there aren’t a bunch of randos wandering around. And anyway, the way they were standing caught my attention—definitely secretive.”

“Maybe Honey and this guy are having an affair or something?”

“Possible, possible. I got a picture, but it’s at the wrong angle. But then he exited stage left and she came around the corner. I trailed her to The Chron building, so I went in too and quickly drafted a story about the craft fair and tree ceremony. She completely ignored me the whole time, which is about par. When she left, I waited a bit, watched what direction she was heading from the window, and followed her. I didn’t want her to see me so I kind of hung back and lost her right around the park. That’s when I found the Santa outfit.”

“Surely you don’t think she threw water on Santa and he melted? Or,” Dakota continued, “someone threw water on her , and she melted? That would be perfect.”

Tad narrowed his eyes. Dakota was trying not to laugh and not being very successful about it.

“No, I fucking don’t, asshole. But I do want to know what she was up to. She was definitely acting furtive. And don’t think I’ve forgotten my original question, which is why don’t you want to save money and get an apartment together? Am I that bad a friend?”

“No! You’re my best friend,” Dakota said forcefully.

“Okay, and…? Am I in your business too much? Do I not shower enough?” Tad raised an eyebrow. “I know for a fact that I am tidier than you are.”

Dakota sucked in a big breath of air, held it for a minute, then released it. The TV was still yammering in the background. Looking out one of the windows, Tad noticed that it was snowing again.

“I know I should just agree with you. Because, as much as it pains me to admit it, you’re right about saving money and all that crap. My one and only argument is that the studio is the first real thing that’s just mine. I have the key and I can walk in there at night or whenever I get home and think to myself, this is my space. No one has been digging through my stuff. The cash I tucked away for pizza or whatever is right where I left it. I don’t have to pack up and leave—because I signed the lease and I pay the rent on time. It’s mine .”

Tad felt like a fucking idiot.

Because he was one.

He liked to think he knew Dakota best, better than anyone else, and maybe he did. But there was still so much he didn’t know. So much that Dakota hadn’t told him, either on purpose or because he pushed the memories aside and didn’t want to think about them.

“Dude, I’m sorry.”

To cover his blunder, Tad shoved the last cold piece of double pepperoni into his mouth and began to chew. If his mouth was full of pizza, he couldn’t say anything stupid, right?

He’d been worse than stupid, and now he was embarrassed and crushed that he’d been so relentlessly oblivious.

We’ll just move in together to save money and the next step will be Dakota “accidentally” falling in love with me.

Fucking nonsense.

Optimism was Tad’s Achilles’ heel and always had been. It tended to put a rose color on his interactions with other people—or at least, that’s what his mom always said. In general , Tad didn’t think there was anything wrong with being optimistic and thinking that tomorrow would be a better day.

But Dakota had lived a very different life than Tad.

Dakota was watching him closely now, and Tad shifted uncomfortably while he over-chewed the last bit of pizza.

“What?” he finally managed.

A smile emerged, the smile almost no one but Tad ever saw. “You. Tad Gillespie. You crack me up. Just… let me have my crappy little studio with the broken microwave?—”

“Your microwave is broken? Have you talked to management? Are they not fixing it? Because?—”

“Tad,” Dakota growled his name. “Honestly, I don’t care about the microwave. I usually grab coffee at CCs or the station. But thank you for wanting to help.” Rising to his feet, Dakota grabbed the empty pizza boxes and walked them into Tad’s kitchen, where he tossed them onto the recycling. “As I’m sure you know, my lease is up at the end of February. Let’s circle back to this conversation then, ’kay?”

It was a close thing, but Tad managed not to choke on his own spit out of sheer surprise.

“Really?” he squeaked as he coughed. “Okay.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, fine. Just fine. Um, hey.” Tad glanced around, wondering if he dared to bring up the other thing.

“What?”

“Never mind, it’s dumb.” Oh boy, his cheeks were so red they could probably be seen from space.

Something in Dakota’s expression shifted. He moved from the kitchen doorway to stand in front of Tad, whose butt was still glued to the couch. Dakota crossed his muscled arms over his chest, accentuating his biceps.

“What?” Tad demanded.

Whatever the something was in Kota’s expression was, it had Tad squirming on the inside. He wanted to kiss him or strangle him; the jury was out. Dakota Green’s signals were so damn scrambled that Tad thought they should be represented by that painter who splattered colors on his canvases.

“Jackson Pollock,” he blurted.

“Jackson Pollock? Seriously, are you okay? Was there something funny in that pizza?”

Dakota crouched down in front of him now, looking concerned. Great, he probably thought Tad had a brain tumor or some other scary health problem.

Blowing out a breath of air, Tad said, “I think my place needs a Christmas tree. Will you come with me to pick one out? Or, I guess, just come over and decorate it? Er, Mom gave me a box of ornaments,” he finished lamely. Now he had his arms crossed over his chest as if to protect himself from Dakota’s inevitable, “No.” Picking out a Christmas tree was definitely a couple-y thing to do.

The long, thoughtful gaze Tad was subjected to had him shifting so he could get up off the couch. “It’s no big deal,” he said, not meaning one word. “I don’t really need a tree.” Tad’s movement caused him to sort of pitch forward so that his face and Dakota’s face were abruptly very close.

The moment was fleeting and forever. Dakota seemed to sway closer to Tad, bringing their lips near enough that Tad felt Dakota’s warm breath. And probably Dakota could feel his. Now he was afraid to move and afraid to speak.

Please, just kiss me.

An expression Tad couldn’t put a label on crossed Dakota’s face but disappeared before he could parse it out. Mildly irritated now, he tamped the feeling down. He was getting tired of guessing at Dakota’s thoughts.

“Sure,” Dakota said. He pulled away and rose to his feet, again not meeting Tad’s eyes. “I could do that. Getting a tree sounds fun. I’m working a lot this week, but I can shoot you my schedule.”

Dakota picked up his jacket and keys from where he’d stashed them by the front door when they’d come inside. “Or you can just call the station and ask Gloria,” he added with a smirk.

“Ha, ha.” Tad got to his feet too. “I’m working at Jake’s the next three nights and one lunch shift, but other than that—and unless Curtis has something more for me to work on than water rights—I have time Wednesday or Thursday.”

Dakota started to open the door. “Wednesday?”

“Be there or be square.”