“Christmas here is pretty perfect,” Max mused. “Peak winter wonderland.”
“Victoria cannot compete in so many, many ways.”
“If I’m in teachers college, probably can’t afford to go away anyway. We’ll see.”
“You’ll get in.”
Max groaned. “I dunno. Maybe.”
“Definitely.” Jeremy truly had no doubts. Max’s application was stellar. He’d get in. Jeremy had bought him a glass-blown apple for when he did but didn’t want to jinx it by giving it to him until it was official. He hoped Max liked the gift of a deluxe mixology kit that Jeremy had put under the tree, along with presents for the rest of the family. Bartending was temporary, but Max had really gotten into making cocktails.
Late that night when everyone else was in bed, Jeremy helped Max wrap presents since Max was determined not to wait until the very last minute this year. The fire blazed and carols played on the TV. Jeremy noticed something by the mantel he somehow hadn’t spotted earlier. He stepped closer, running his finger over the glittery cursive letters on red felt. “There’s a stocking for me.”
Max was concentrating on taping the wrapping paper shut on one end of the box. “Yeah, of course. You had one last year too. Everyone who’s here for Christmas gets a stocking.”
“But my name’s on this one.” He tentatively scratched at one of the letters. “Like, permanently.”
Max came over, peering at it with a smile. He squeezed Jeremy’s shoulders. “Looks good to me. Like it belongs there.”
Jeremy’s throat was too thick, his eyes burning. “I love you.”
“I love you too, baby.”
They shared a kiss by the crackling fire, “Silent Night” filling the warm silence.
Upstairs, Jeremy shut the door to Max’s room behind him. It still felt strangely momentous even though they’d shared the bed at Max’s apartment plenty of times, and sometimes the narrow twin bed in his dorm. Scared, lonely Jeremy of a year ago seemed a lifetime away.
Max stripped off his sweater by the double bed. Old football trophies gleamed on the bookcase in the low light. Their gazes met, and heat rushed through Jeremy at the hunger in Max’s eyes.
“Think we can be quiet enough?” Max whispered.
Jeremy grinned, then lifted his finger to his lips. “Shh.”
THE END
Thank you so much for reading Merry Cherry Christmas! I hope it brings you warm and fuzzy holiday feels. I’d be grateful if you could take a few minutes to leave a review on Amazon, Goodreads, BookBub, social media, or wherever you like. Just a couple of sentences can really help other readers discover the book.
Wishing you and yours a happy and safe holiday season—and many happily ever afters!
Keira
<3
P.S. Keep reading for a peek at how Hunter and Nick from the Christmas tree farm met!
Sitting on the too-hard bench, Nick watched as Hunter reached to straighten his elf hat. His green jacket rode up, giving Nick an excellent view of his perky, rather spectacular ass. He was quite pretty, what with his golden hair wisping over his forehead, a round face and pink lips, freckles on his nose, and deep blue eyes. Too bad he was apparently one of those spoiled millennials who showed up late and only cared about money.
Hunter looked to be in his twenties and probably still lived at home. By his mid-twenties, Nick had been working full time for years and owned a truck and a house. It hadn’t been easy, and he’d worked his way up, learning about forestry and eventually tree farming. He hadn’t expected anything on a silver platter. People of all ages these days seemed more entitled than ever, and Nick had no patience for any of it.
Well, Hunter wasn’t Nick’s business, or his problem. He was playing Santa for two days, and two days only. When the usual Santa had fallen that morning, John had called in a panic, and considering John and Desmond were Nick’s only friends, he’d given in. So this weekend he’d have to deal with people whether he liked it or not.
He thought of John’s instructions: What would Eric have said and done?
As Nick watched Hunter lead a little redheaded girl along the path toward him, he had to smile to himself, hearing Eric’s voice—low, with a mischievous hint to his Scottish brogue.
I’d say you’re being a miserable grouch and that you need to remove the stick from your ass, stat. That’s my professional medical opinion.
Of course Eric was gone, so what did he know? But no, he was right, and Nick made an effort to smile genuinely at the girl, who clung to Hunter’s hand. Maybe Nick’s smiling skills were rusty, since Hunter said to her, “It’s okay, Jessica. Santa’s really friendly, I promise.” He shot Nick a pointed look, eyebrows raised as if daring Nick to prove him wrong. Okay, perhaps there was a bit of sass there, not just eye-rolling millennial petulance.
Nick cleared his throat, pitching his voice a little higher and softer than usual, mimicking the way Eric had spoken to young children. “Hi there, Jessica. It’s wonderful to meet you. Do you want to sit down and tell me what you’d like for Christmas?”
As Jessica hesitantly told him about wanting a sled and some kind of doll that was probably the latest fad, Nick nodded and smiled and pretended he knew exactly what she was talking about. From the corner of his eye, he was aware of Hunter watching, and when Nick glanced at him while he and Jessica shifted for their picture, Hunter’s cheeks went red, and he hurried back down the candy path.
The picture was taken as Hunter brought up the next kid, and Nick smiled and nodded to the steady stream of children coming to sit with him. He also tried to ignore Eric in his head.
Admit it—the kids are adorable. You don’t hate this. Especially with the sexy elf eye candy.
Eric had always called him on his shit, and eight years after his death, his voice in Nick’s head was a familiar comfort. It wasn’t real, of course, and it wasn’t always there. But Eric would show up once in a while, usually when Nick needed a swift kick in the ass.
Yes, sometimes Daddy needs the spanking.
He snorted out loud, and Hunter, who had brought up another girl, glared and hissed, “What are you laughing at?” His fair cheeks flushed red, and when he had the girl seated, he tugged at the hem of his green jacket. Clearly, he was uncomfortable in the too-small costume, but he also seemed anxious and jittery in his own skin. Any traces of sass vanished, replaced by a flash of raw vulnerability.
Nick instinctively wanted to reassure him, but before he could, the little girl was providing detailed evidence of her being very, very good and deserving of soccer cleats and a princess dress with puffy sleeves she really, really wanted so, so much.
The stream of kids seemed unending, and Nick’s ass was numb and his entire body uncomfortably damp with sweat by the time John closed off the line and put up a sign saying they’d be back in half an hour. Nick’s cheeks actually hurt from all the smiling, and he couldn’t wait to take off the beard and hat.
While John grabbed them lunch, Nick and Hunter retreated to the storeroom. As soon as they were inside, Hunter rounded on him and snapped, “Seriously, could you stop laughing at me? I feel ridiculous enough already in this costume.”