BLURB:
Isaac didn't do the cold. He didn't do singing either. So
trudging through the snow in minus temperatures, freezing his balls off to sing
Fa lala to complete strangers, was not his idea of fun.
Until the tall, dark
and handsome who opened the final door changed his mind.
EXCERPT:
“What am I doing?” Isaac
had meant to ask the question in his head, but judging by the stiffening of
Beck’s shoulders as his friend walked ahead of him, he needed to practice his
talking to himself technique. He tucked the sleeves of his thick Aran sweater
further into his gloves and thanked God… well, his mom, which was close enough…
for finding his father’s spare waders in the garage, as he sank into a fresh
pile of snow with every step. He’d thought that thermal underwear, jeans, three
T-shirts and two sweaters would keep him warm, along with the waders and two
pairs of thick socks. He’d been wrong. The cold air bit through the myriad of
layers he wore and he clenched his jaw tightly in an attempt to keep his teeth
from chattering.
Knowing he was behaving
like a petulant child, he stamped his feet as he followed Beck through the snow.
At least he thought he stamped his feet. As he’d lost all feeling in them about
four blocks ago, he couldn’t be sure. He grunted as, adding insult to injury,
fresh flakes of snow began to fall from the star lit, frozen sky. Isaac wrapped
his arms around his body and grumbled into his scarf. Wasn’t it bad enough that
he’d rejected the warmth of Christmas in Miami with two of his work mates, to
drive home for the holidays; but that he’d also agreed to give up the roaring
fire in his parents’ living-room, and sole possession of the remote control?
Right now his mother would be putting the turkey in the oven to cook overnight
and it wouldn’t be long before the scent of roasting bird would start to fill
the house. His sister, Dana, would be peeling yams and chatting to their mother
as Elvis warbled that he would be home for Christmas. His brother, Avery, would
be making eggnog and trying to stop his father from upping the rum content,
while his two nephews would be listening to their mother recite ‘Twas the Night
before Christmas for the hundredth time. And where was he? Freezing his ass off
and wondering if his balls were ever going to return to his scrotum or remain
in the back of his throat where they’d crept to keep warm.
Every year he had the
same conversation with himself as he brought up the rear behind Beck and his
stupid caroling group. Unable to silence the expletive that shot out of his
stupid mouth, Isaac flinched at the colder than the snow glare from Beck. His
friend grabbed two handfuls of his sweater, sweater, T-shirts, thermals and
some skin in the force of his irritation and yanked Isaac away from the group.
Isaac found himself pulled up against Beck’s body and met his gaze nervously.
He did, of course, have to look down to do so, being some five inches taller
than the other man, but in this instance it wasn’t funny—Beck wasn’t wearing
his happy face. Toying with the idea of speech for a nano-second, Isaac snapped
his lips shut and waited to welcome the new one he was about to have chewed.
“If I hear one more word that doesn’t have a
musical note to it,” Beck’s grip tightened and he pressed his nose to Isaac’s,
dropping his voice so only Isaac heard him. Opening his mouth to respond he was
stopped by the narrowing of Beck’s gaze. “Don’t you dare speak. Not. One. Word. Zilch, nothing, nada. I swear
to the singing herald angels; I will beat
you down. I don't give a shit if it is
the season of goodwill to all men. Do you understand me?” Lifting his hands, Isaac curled his fingers around the back of
Beck’s neck and kissed him hard and fast. Which probably wasn’t the best
decision he’d made all night, because he found himself on his ass in the snow
where Beck had shoved him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Beck complained.
He wiped frantically at his mouth with his gloved hands then spat fluff from
said gloves onto the white snow.
“You told me not to
talk.” Isaac retorted, taking the hand Beck held out to him and clambering to
his feet. “I was just saying yes.”
“Move for God’s sake.”
Beck urged Isaac on and jabbed him in the side with an elbow as he stomped
ahead, grumbling about his now non-existent chances of hooking up with anyone
because he had ‘Isaac breath’.
No comments:
Post a Comment