Nick was used to watching football as background noise while he worked out or read. This group watching experience reminded him of being a younger man, living in the barracks, noisy men and women bickering and betting in good-natured high spirits. It was nice because he didn’t have to actively participate—could just let it swirl around him and enjoy the banter along with the game. Charlie did take bets, but they were mainly for favors like snow shoveling, dish duty that afternoon, babysitting, that sort of thing.
He was a bit surprised that Teddy still hadn’t returned by the time Rhonda came down to tell them the food was almost ready.
“So Saint Nick,” she said, walking over to the couch. “The first of our ‘Where’s Santa Now’ features is scheduled to run on Sunday in the paper. You’re about to be famous!”
“Oh good.” He forced out a smile.
“Stick with me, and I’ll tell you what the different dishes are. Some of the aunts are really good at mystery casserole.” She led the way back upstairs. All the savory food was loaded onto a long dining room table for serving buffet style, with the pies in reserve for later. Rhonda talked his ear off through the line, but then got sidetracked helping some kids with their plates.
Nick loaded his plate with stuff he recognized like mashed potatoes and gravy and a nice glazed ham, and then looked around, trying to decide where to take his plate to eat. Card tables were set up in both the living room and family room areas, and some people were taking their food back downstairs as well. He was about to do the same when he spotted Teddy sitting alone on a sofa by the fireplace in the family room area. It’s only polite, he told himself as he made his way over to him.
“This seat taken?” he asked.
“Nope.” Teddy gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “All yours.”
“You okay?” Nick sat next to him, realizing a bit too late that the couch was more of a love seat, and they’d be pressed together. Teddy’s nearness was an instant distraction, rendering the food bland and uninteresting compared to his warm leg against Nick’s, the way he always smelled a little different—today’s was citrus, and the subtle movements of his arm as he ate.
“I’m good. Just had to help my mom with getting the food out. Your macaroni is a big hit.”
“Good. You going to play hockey after we eat? I heard some of the others talking about it.”
“I brought skates, but not sure. You gonna come watch?”
“I could.” Nick was oddly enthused at the idea of watching Teddy skate. “So tell me more about the relatives. I haven’t joined the football betting pool yet. Who always wins?”
They spent the rest of the meal with Teddy telling stories about this cousin or that one, and Nick was surprised at how much he enjoyed this, hanging back with Teddy, sharing stories, laughing at things happening across the room, like when a table of young people burst out in song.
After dinner, everyone pitched in with cleanup, then a bunch of them bundled up to face the frigid afternoon temperatures before returning for pie. Nick followed suit, deciding that watching the skaters would be more fun than more football. He stood back with some of the older relatives as those wanting to play hockey chose sides. A puck was produced, and a few friendly bets happened on the sidelines as the game started. Nick’s gaze was riveted to Teddy who was small and quick and remarkably adept at splitting defenders like Rhonda.
He didn’t know much about hockey, other than that neither side had scored a goal, but he could have watched Teddy for hours—the way he laughed and joked and spun. He was as sparkly as the midafternoon sun. Nick found himself caught up in the game, cheering when the rest of the crowd did, and almost a little disappointed when people started talking about going in for pie and hot drinks.
“So how’d I do?” Teddy skated over to a bench by Nick and removed his skates.
“You were great,” Nick said truthfully. “Definitely earned your pie.”
For an instant he thought Teddy might be going to stretch and kiss him, audience and all, or maybe grab his hand, but then Teddy shook his head, almost as if he was lecturing himself. Nick tried to tell himself that he wasn’t disappointed that Teddy hadn’t made contact.
“Let’s go find that pie.”
The dining table was now covered in pies with little labels in front of them in a dizzying array of flavors—classics like apple, pumpkin, cherry, lemon meringue, and also more innovative flavors like bourbon pumpkin cheesecake and candied ginger sweet potato. The idea seemed to be to get thin slices of a couple different offerings with whipped cream and vanilla ice cream at the end of the table.
“See anything you like?” Teddy asked.
You. But, of course, Nick didn’t say that. “Not sure. I like pumpkin, but there’s like six different varieties here…”
“Oh, you have to try the pumpkin pecan—it’s like a mix of both pies and to die for.” Teddy started loading up Nick’s plate without waiting for permission. “And a little of my mom’s classic pumpkin too. Now how do you feel about citrus?”
I’d like to lick you in all the places where you smell like that lemony body wash. Nick forced his expression to stay neutral. “I guess I could try some key lime.”
“Great.” Teddy gave himself a variety of things to try then led Nick to the living room, where two of the uncles had guitars and were singing folk songs. They snagged the last spot on the couch, crammed together again, but this time, Nick didn’t mind as much. In fact, since no one seemed to be paying them any mind, he found himself leaning into the contact. Not exactly cuddling, but a couple of steps up from merely friendly too. And by the time Teddy stretched to whisper in Nick’s ear, he was drifting in a pleasant sugar-and-Teddy coma.
“Ready to get out of here?” Teddy asked.
It took Nick a minute to realize that Teddy probably didn’t mean that in the sexy way, but more in the “let’s beat the snow” way. But wait. That was a distinctly feral glint in Teddy’s eyes. Maybe it was a little of both, and that thought made Nick far warmer than it should have.
“Yeah.” Nick’s voice was huskier than it needed to be. “Let’s find my slow cooker and your salad bowl and try to outrun the weather.”
Already flurries were coming down outside the picture windows. They found their cookware and made their goodbyes after getting a stack of leftovers foisted on them, and then bundled up to head out.
“Is this where you tell me it would be easier if I spent the night?” Nick motioned at the falling snow as they made their way to the car.
“I don’t know, Nick. Do you want me to say that?” Teddy whirled on him. “You already know I’m interested. And you’ve been giving me some seriously mixed signals, the last hour especially. But I’m not interested in playing games where you pretend to have no choice but to come home with me. Snow’s not that bad yet.”
It was a surprisingly mature attitude, and Nick was a little impressed, even as he was frustrated at the bluntness.
“We shouldn’t…” He groaned because yes, it would be so much easier to pretend the weather was the reason he didn’t want to head right back to Fort End.
“We should.” Teddy got right in his face for a long moment, then punctuated his point by heading to the driver’s side of the car. “And you want to. We both know that.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Nick climbed in the car. “I’m leaving in a month.”
“I’m a big boy, Nick. I’m not going to get my heart smashed by a month of hooking up. And I’ve been thinking. I think you need this.”
“Oh? How do you figure?” Nick couldn’t outright disagree.
“The way I see it, I could be the holiday present you give yourself. A little treat—not payment for the Santa stuff, but more like something just for you. A retirement reward, maybe. And maybe I want that too—you under my tree. Some good memories to keep for us both.” Teddy headed for the road.
“Hmm.” Nick had to admit it was a damn tempting offer.
“But I’m not going to keep offering.” Teddy’s voice was firm. “Either you’re interested or you’re not.”
“I…” Nick swallowed hard.
“Going right will take us toward my place. Left goes back to Fort End. Which will it be?” Teddy stopped at an intersection, voice still in no-arguments mode.
Head falling back, Nick shut his eyes. He knew the correct answer, the one that made the most sense. But all that came out was a whispered, “Right.”
And maybe it a pie-and-good-feelings hangover. Maybe it was the magic of the MacNally family. Maybe it was knowing in his bones that Teddy wasn’t bluffing, that he really wouldn’t keep asking indefinitely. Maybe it was simply not wanting to be alone that night. But he said it again, more certain now. “Right. Take us back to your place.”