Happy and Merry: An M/M Holiday Romance Collection Page 7

  “Well….” Brad consulted his watch. “Wow, it’s way past my bedtime.” He tried not to wince at having made himself sound like a senior citizen yet again in front of Michael.

  “Aw, it’s not that late,” Michael protested. “You gotta try their almond cookies and lychee ice cream.”

  “I truly couldn’t stuff another bite into me. Maybe another time.”

  “We’ll hold you to that,” Bao said.

  “Thank you for the wonderful food,” Brad said to Mrs. Chen, who’d returned with a dish in each hand.

  “Leaving so soon?” Mrs. Chen asked. She set the dishes in front of him. “Have more dumplings. And noodles.”

  “Mom,” Bao said warningly.

  “They are so delicious, Mrs. Chen. Might I have some to go?”

  “Good idea. More in the kitchen. I’ll wrap some for you.” She bustled off.

  Michael smirked as he picked up a dumpling. “Watch yourself. She’s gonna want to feed you forever now.”

  “True,” Bao said. “You’ve given her another reason for living, Brad.”

  “There are worse fates.”

  “Word.” Michael pointed his fork at Bao. “Their food is what keeps me being friends with this asshole.”

  Bao flung a noodle at Michael. “Keep it up, asshole, and you’ll be cut off for good.”

  Mrs. Chen approached, a large bag in her hand. “No throwing food, boys.” She handed the bag to Brad. “Here. Keep you from getting hungry.”

  Brad hefted it. “Yes, indeed. Thank you so much, Mrs. Chen.” He stood. “Well, goodbye, then.”

  “Goodbye,” said Mrs. Chen. “Come back soon.”

  “Later.” Bao waved, then tucked into another dumpling as his mother nodded approvingly.

  Michael stood as well. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  When they got to the entrance, Brad paused. “Well… this was nice.”

  “Yes.” Michael glanced at him from underneath his eyelashes, which Brad now saw were ridiculously long. “I was kind of hoping we could end the evening somewhere more… private.”

  Spontaneity was one thing, but Brad taking home a twentysomething kid for a hot hook-up after spending the equivalent of six hours total with him didn’t sit right. He was extremely attracted to Michael, who was clearly into him. Brad wasn’t going to use Michael for casual sex, though, and anything beyond that seemed unthinkable. It wasn’t fair to saddle him with a partner twenty years his senior.

  “I’m flattered… and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted, but… I don’t think it’s a good idea, Michael.” Brad meant to leave it at that, but the sad look on Michael’s face spurred him to add, “Not yet, at least.”

  Michael gave a tight nod. “Right. Well, I’ll see you.” When he moved away, Brad stopped him with a hand to his arm.

  “Wait. I… um, I really like you. Very much.”

  Michael’s expression softened. “I like you too. It’s okay about… the other stuff. Are you still up for coming to my Christmas party tomorrow?”

  Brad wasn’t about to disappoint him a second time, even if going would only string Michael along in his fantasy about them ending up together. “Sure. Text me directions.”

  Chapter 4

  Michael went into the kitchen for more cups and napkins, keeping one ear out for the piano music in the living room. They’d taken a break from Christmas carols, and Brad was playing something soft and jazzy. Brad. Was playing the piano in Michael’s living room! And had been for a few hours. He was a man of many talents. Hidden ones too, as he’d never said a word about being able to play before showing up at the house with a bottle of wine under one arm and a sheaf of sheet music under the other.

  How awesome to stand next to him, leaning over the piano with a hand on Brad’s shoulder—the better to turn the pages for him, of course—and sing to his beautiful playing. Did he also like to play show tunes? Michael had asked hopefully, and had been rewarded with an emphatic yes. Brad was fast becoming the man of Michael’s dreams. Yeah, yeah, he knew he should slow down and recall that them being anything more than friends wasn’t exactly a done deal, but Michael couldn’t help it. He wanted to jump for joy that this sexy, amazing guy was here at all.

  Katrina came in with an empty platter and set it on the counter. “That Brad really is something.”

  Michael couldn’t keep the huge grin off his face. “You think?”

  “Anyone who’d not only sing Christmas carols with you all evening but actually play the piano and sing is your kind of guy.”

  Jordan entered and surveyed their faces. “I guess I don’t have to ask what you two are talking about.”

  “I know, I know,” Michael said. “Don’t get ahead of myself, right?”

  Jordan nodded and took the cups and napkins from him. “Nice party. I like Brad’s piano playing. Just don’t get your heart stomped.”

  Katrina watched with Michael as Jordan walked serenely out of the kitchen. “They’re always so wise.”

  Michael grabbed a beer in frustration. “They may be wise, but what if I don’t want to play it cool? I want to see where this thing with Brad goes. I think it could be… you know, I think maybe he and I could….” He shook his head and uncapped the bottle.

  “Yeah, I know.” Katrina hopped on the counter and watched Michael chug the beer, swinging her legs. “You always fall in love during the holidays.”

  He paused his swigging. “What?”

  “You do. There must be something about this time of year for you. Every holiday season you get hung up over some person and decide they’re ‘it.’ Then you want to take them home to meet the family on Christmas. And then it’s over by New Year’s.”

  “Um.” Michael wanted to deny such an outrageous accusation, only… well, damn. Three years ago it had been Maya, two years ago Ken, and last year…. He blushed, remembering how he’d gotten totally into Juan and thought Juan could break off from Jordan and Katrina to be Michael’s one and only. That had been a mess, only saved by Jordan’s insistence on clear communication.

  Katrina touched his arm, fondness on her face. “The thing is, we all love you. And if what you want is a long-term partnership, we’re all for it. Just make sure you aren’t seeing Brad through your holiday-tinted glasses, wanting to make him into, like, your Christmas love object or something.”

  “Jeez.” Michael covered his face with his hand for a moment, then smiled at her sheepishly. It was true—he most pined for a lover during the holidays. Years of being single and having to watch his siblings and their partners around the Thanksgiving table or holding hands during the opening of the Christmas presents had taken their toll. But had he actually manufactured an insta-relationship every holiday season just so he could have someone to take home? Apparently so. How embarrassing. “Okay, I’ll calm down.”

  Just then, Brad came in. “There you are.” He was sweating a little, and he wiped his brow. “I need something to cool off from all that playing.” His eyes looked especially blue and the way his hair curled into little tendrils….

  Michael’s heart gave a stupid flutter. “Have a beer.” He handed Brad a bottle at random.

  “Thanks. Any more of your homemade lasagna around? And then I need to sample those fabled Christmas cookies.”

  As he reached for the lasagna, Michael didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Calm down? Brad being more and more awesome was making that kind of impossible.

  “Thanks for coming.” Michael stood in the doorway of his house watching as Brad took a step away from all the life and light and music that was still going on.

  “I had a great time. Thanks so much for inviting me.” Brad had no idea why he wasn’t staying longer, except for that thing about not burdening Michael with an over-the-hill lover. And the fact that the last BART train to the city was due to leave the Downtown Berkeley Station in fifteen minutes.

  “Hey, wait, I’ll walk you to the station.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to. But okay. Su
re.”

  “Just let me get my coat.” Michael disappeared back into the house.

  Brad rocked on his feet, waiting, and couldn’t help grinning. He was not going to deprive himself of a few more minutes with Michael. His party had been wonderful. It had felt cozy and warm hanging out with Michael and his housemates and friends. No one was pretentious or trying to prove how smart or successful they were, like the legal types Brad knew. They were passionate about the world and making a difference. They cared about things like racism and sexism. They were full of plans to resist the current government and to build their own community into a safe and accepting space. Brad had been inspired listening to Tomer, Jordan, Bao, and the others talk about such things. His life at Fortuna & Barnhart seemed cloistered in comparison.

  And then there was Michael. Michael had glowed, with his Santa hat on his head and his homemade cookies and lasagna and his lovely voice and terrific smile. And he’d gotten them all on their feet to dance or sing, making sure that the serious discussions were interspersed with gaiety and celebration.

  “Here I am.”

  Laughing because Michael still wore his Santa hat, Brad tweaked it as Michael came alongside him, making the bells jingle. “I’m being escorted by my very own Christmas sprite.”

  “Only the best for you, my dear.”

  “The best escort and the best damn Christmas cookies I have ever eaten.”

  Michael lit up. “Really?”

  “It’s the truth,” Brad responded solemnly.

  “Aw, thanks. Hey, what’re you doing for Christmas?”

  “Not much. Nothing special, anyway.” Brad wasn’t sure why he didn’t tell Michael about his annual golfing trip to Napa, but it was the truth—it had ceased being all that special. “What are you doing?”

  “Oh, I go home every Christmas.”

  “Where’s home?”

  “Santa Rosa.”

  They reached the corner of Shattuck and University and turned left toward the station.

  “Santa Rosa is a nice town. So that’s where your family lives?”

  “Yeah, my parents still live in the house I grew up in. My sisters live nearby, and my brother is just up the road in Healdsburg.”

  “Really nice places. Are you close to your family?”

  “Yeah. Close enough. We’re all on the same page politically, and that makes a huge difference. I don’t know how I would have handled a relative who voted for Liar-in-Chief.”

  “I hear you,” Brad said, seeing the General’s face with a familiar twinge of hopelessness.

  “Anyway, we have a good time together. We have a ton of Christmas traditions, and it’s fun to see my nieces and nephews being a part of them now.”

  The entrance to the BART station loomed ahead. No one was around for once, not even the street people who had been there earlier asking for spare change.

  “Here we are.” Brad paused on the deserted sidewalk and glanced at his watch. He still had ten minutes. He wished it were longer.

  “Oh, hey, sorry I talked your ear off about my family Christmas stuff.”

  “No, don’t be sorry. I like how much Christmas means to you. And it’s nice you have family to share it with.”

  Michael looked concerned. “Don’t you have family?”

  “Well, yes. But they’re in the DC area. It’s just my mom and dad and younger brother.”

  “You… you don’t go back for the holidays?”

  “No. We’re not all that close. My mother wants me to, but… my father is disapproving of my ‘lifestyle.’ I’d rather not subject myself to that.”

  “Totally. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, well. Families can be a chore. It sounds like you lucked out in that arena.”

  “I did, and I’ll always be grateful for it.”

  “Well…. Thank you again for the great party—food, talk, music, all of it.”

  Michael nodded and took a visible swallow, as though he was gearing himself up for something. His hesitancy broke Brad’s reserve. Before he knew what he was going to do, Brad stepped forward and put his hand on Michael’s cheek, feeling the stubbly warmth. He caught a glimpse of Michael’s eyes widening, and then he was kissing him, feeling the softness of Michael’s lips, smelling his masculine scent that mingled with a trace of sugar cookies. Michael grabbed his arms and kissed him back with gusto—and then they were leaning against the station wall, making out like teenagers.

  They finally pulled apart and regarded each other. “Well,” Brad said.

  “Yeah.”

  “That was… wow.”

  Michael grinned and nodded so hard his Santa cap jingled. “As kisses go, I’d give it an eleven.”

  Brad laughed. “I gotta run or I’ll miss the last train.”

  “See you later, I hope.”

  “I hope so too. Thanks again.”

  Brad sprinted into the station and through the turnstile, managing to enter the waiting train just before the doors closed. He stood, holding the metal pole and swaying with the train’s movement, his head full of Michael.

  Chapter 5

  “Here’s the last of it.” Caren, Brad’s rocking paralegal, put the report in front of him. “Hard copy, because I know you like that.” Her words were polite, but her expression said geezer. “And everything’s on the laptop too.”

  Brad took the folder and stuck it into his briefcase. He’d be able to read it on the way to Napa. “Thanks, Caren. You’re amazing, as always. Have a good Christmas.”

  “You too, boss. Doing something fun, I hope?”

  “Going to Napa with friends. You?”

  “Visiting my girlfriend in Santa Cruz.”

  “Sounds good. Merry Christmas.”

  As Caren left, Brad looked around for any last-minute items he might have forgotten to pack. It was December 23, and Dave was picking him up soon for the annual trip to the Silverado. Brad’s overnight bag and golf clubs stood waiting in the corner.

  He glanced at his phone for texts. Nothing. Checking was becoming something of a habit lately. He and Michael had been exchanging a steady stream of texts in the days since the party. Never having been much of a texter before, Brad was struck by how much of a conversation one could have that way. They’d been talking about everything—Michael’s filmmaking aspirations, what books they were reading, childhood memories, politics, music. And Christmas. Enjoying Michael’s love of holiday traditions, Brad had been quizzing him on the different aspects of the Blair family Christmas. Michael had talked about all the music his family listened to, how their holiday CDs came out on Thanksgiving and were played constantly through New Year’s.

  His Michael reverie was interrupted by voices, and darn if one of the voices didn’t sound like Michael himself.

  Caren poked her head in. “Guess who came to visit? Some dude in a Santa hat.”

  Michael appeared, Santa hat on his head and something festive-looking in his hands. “Hi there.”

  He looked so edible, Brad wanted to take a huge bite, or maybe a gentle nibble. Instead he cleared his throat, his smile stretching his cheeks. “Well, hello. Come in.” Then he frowned at Caren, who was lurking behind Michael, grinning knowingly. She winked as she retreated.

  Michael entered, looking a trifle embarrassed, and Brad moved to close the door on the prying eyes of his colleagues. “I apologize for barging in on you at work like this, but I wanted to bring you something before I go home tomorrow.” He offered Brad a large cookie tin adorned with a pattern of holly and berries.

  “Well, aren’t you sweet?”

  “It’s nothing, really. Just wanted to make sure you had enough cookie supplies to see you through Christmas.”

  “Much appreciated. Your cookies are addictive.” Brad set the gift down. “And I have something for you.”

  Michael brightened. “You got me a present?”

  “Yes. I was going to mail it to you, which is why I asked for your Santa Rosa address. It’s not wrapped, but….” He opened his briefc
ase to find the CD he’d bought, intending to FedEx it to Michael and his family so it could get there for Christmas. “Here you go.” He handed Michael the Kingston Trio’s Christmas album. “You were talking about loving this record of your grandparents’ as a child and wishing your family still had it. So I found it for you.”

  Michael stared down at the CD. “This…. Oh my God. You found the Kingston Trio.” He raised eyes bright with emotion. “You…. This is so wonderful. I can’t wait to take this home to play for the family. They’re going to freak out.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” Brad’s voice was gruff, and he swallowed, feeling his cheeks warm.

  “I….” Michael reached over and took his hand. “I’m so touched. Thank you.”

  Brad kissed him. He just had to. Given their location, he meant it to be a quick peck, but Michael pulled him in and kissed the hell out of him. When they came up for air, Brad was backed against his desk with Michael pressed against him, and Brad needed to stop this before they lost their heads completely in the middle of Fortuna & Barnhart.

  As Brad took a breath, Michael seemed to recall himself and straightened, putting some space between them. His expression was so warm that Brad felt a shiver up his spine. “Come home with me.”

  “What?”

  “Come to Santa Rosa with me for Christmas.”

  “Spend Christmas with you and your family? Oh, I… I couldn’t.”

  “Why not? They’d love you. And I hate to think of you spending Christmas all by yourself.”

  Brad was so not ready for this. It was a bad idea. Even if he didn’t go to Napa, he had no business leading lovely but oh-so-young Michael on by going home to meet his family. “That’s very nice of you, but—”

  The door swung open, and Dave walked in, looking like a million bucks even in casual clothes. “Hey there, you ready? Oh.” He stopped, surveying the undoubtedly compromising situation. “Sorry, didn’t know you had a visitor.”

  Michael backed away abruptly, and Brad saw him through Dave’s eyes—some young guy looking hot but ridiculous in a Santa hat. Maybe a porn singing-telegram guy whom Brad had hired to service him. At any rate, someone young. Inappropriately young. And in a Santa hat.