Bagging Santa's Elf Read online

  The look in Vince’s eyes turned Kyle’s insides into a goopy mess. Vince leaned in and kissed him. “I have a present for you,” he murmured against Kyle’s lips.

  “What?”

  “It’s a present, idjit. You have to open it. Can you walk?”

  He pushed at Vince’s chest. “Of course I can walk.”

  But his legs disagreed, and Vince laughed as he wobbled to the dresser and pulled a pair of sweats from the drawer.

  Vince ducked into the bathroom and wet a cloth he tossed to Kyle. “You can take a shower after you see my present.”

  “It’s not Christmas yet.”

  “I can’t wait. Besides, we have plans for tomorrow.”

  “It’s not going to take all day to fix my car.”

  “We’re going to my folks.”

  Kyle’s stomach dropped. “We are?”

  He’d hated visiting Vince’s parents the one time he’d gone. Not that he didn’t like them as people. But for most of the trip, Kyle was the stranger who didn’t fit in. Every room had photos of Vince growing up. His old bike still hung from its hooks in the garage and a basketball hoop still stood in a corner of the patio. The place was filled with memories Kyle didn’t have. Wherever his mother lived now, no pictures of Kyle would be hanging on the walls. No bowls of ambrosia salad would be waiting in the fridge because that was his favorite.

  On their Fourth of July visit, Kyle had sat in a house full of love, smiling awkwardly at a family he’d never be a true part of.

  Now Vince approached him, but with no reproach in his eyes, only a worried frown. “I want to. It’s Christmas, Kyle.”

  “I just…”

  “What?”

  Want to stop feeling so fucking alone. “I didn’t buy them any presents.”

  Vince grinned. “Wait until you see what you got them.”

  He snorted a laugh, dropped the cloth in the hamper, and pulled on his sweats. Vince plugged in their Christmas tree and took Kyle’s hand. Surprised, Kyle followed him through the little kitchen with the belligerently loud refrigerator and out the back door. Moss-covered brick led to the side door of the garage.

  Vince opened it an inch and tugged his lips between his teeth as though to bite down on the smile that fluttered at the corners anyway. Then he took a breath and said, “Close your eyes.”

  The tiny hairs on the back of Kyle’s neck stood up. “What is in there?”

  “You’ll see in a minute.”

  Glowering, Kyle squeezed his eyes shut, muscles stiffening until the warmth of Vince’s palm stroking the back of his neck melted them again.

  “Watch your step.”

  Kyle swallowed and lifted his foot. The garage was cold, working its way to being colder than the air outside, but Vince dropped his hand, leaned against Kyle’s back, and wrapped him in his arms.

  “Eyes closed?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry,” Vince said and Kyle stiffened again. “Don’t open your eyes.”

  “I’m not,” he said, though a glimmer of light had seeped through his lids before he’d squeezed them shut again. Now he let out a slow breath. “Okay, I’m good. Why are you sorry?”

  “I’m an idiot.”

  “Well, duh.”

  Vince’s laugh tickled his cheek. “I made a mistake trying to win you back.”

  “Don’t you—”

  “Want you? With all my heart. I wake up thinking about you. I go to sleep thinking about you. Snatching you off the side of the road though? That was just a game. I can’t keep you like that. I want you to be happy.”

  “I am.”

  “You used to be. We didn’t have a lot, but we had enough. And you liked your job. God knows why.”

  “Well, not everybody can throw paint around.”

  “And not everybody is a whiz with numbers. I love painting, Kyle, I really do. But I’m not fucking Picasso, and the truth is, I don’t want to be. I drive a cab, which doesn’t pay for crap, and I guess I was putting painting ahead of you. I can make a living at it, but I’m not great and—”

  “I love—”

  “That’s what matters to me. That you love it. That you love me. The money… I wanted to show I could be enough for you. That I could buy you things.”

  “Vince—”

  “Maybe I’ll buy you a refrigerator one day.”

  Kyle snort-laughed. “I’d probably miss ours.”

  “That’s the thing. Not knowing what we have until it’s gone. I know money, or not having it, scares you, but there’s something else that scares you more. You have the talent to make a ton of money, Kyle. You don’t need to work for somebody who thinks you’re a cog in his wheel that he can pull out and plug back in somewhere else whenever he feels like it. Start your own company. Work for somebody else. That promotion, it was never about money.”

  “We’re poor.”

  “We’re not poor.”

  “I need a new car.”

  “You can take a bus.”

  Kyle snorted. “You drive a cab, why would I take a bus?”

  “There you go. I can drive you.”

  “Miss it or not, our fridge is a piece of shit.”

  “Still trucking along.”

  “Well, aren’t you full of positivity.”

  “Being afraid doesn’t help.”

  “I’m not afraid. I’m practical.”

  “You’re afraid of being invisible. Of people not noticing when you’re sick or hungry or lonely.” With every one of Vince’s words, Kyle went colder and colder. “That promotion would mean somebody noticed you, that people would have to come to you every day, and they’d notice you. That you counted.”

  Kyle opened his mouth and nothing came out. His throat strangled him, choking his breath. He gasped. “That’s bullshit.”

  Vince squeezed him tighter. “I don’t think so. But I bought into it, and I wanted you to notice me too.”

  “I do notice you.”

  Vince kissed him below the ear. “You are my world, Kyle. The most important thing in my life. My gift, the only present I’ll ever need or want. You are my orbit, the canvas I want to paint my whole fucking life on, and for these last few months, I really thought I could buy that—”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I know that. I just… I forgot. You rejecting my proposal threw me. I ignored the problem that made you back away from me in favor of something I could buy for you. You, Kyle, are the only thing that matters. Nothing else ever will. Not for me. I’m going to give you something, but I need you to know that it means nothing to me. Without you, I’m nothing.”

  “Help me turn around.”

  He kept his eyes closed as Vince took ahold of his shoulders and eased him in a half circle. “Okay. You can open your eyes.”

  He blinked a few times, his gaze settling on Vince’s face and the red eyes shiny with tears he was struggling not to shed. “I missed you.”

  “Oh, baby.”

  “I ignored you too. It scared me to put so much faith in you. It scares me to think… you might let me go.”

  “I won’t. You lived with assholes. I’m taking you home to people who love you. I love you.”

  “I was going to break up with you.”

  The pupils in Vince’s eyes flared, thinning the irises to a rim of blue and gold speckles, but a smile built on his lips at the same time. His chest swelled with the breath he took before he shook his head. “I’ll chase you to the North Pole and back.”

  Kyle chuffed a laugh. “Luckily, my little red skirt sticks out in the snow.”

  “Well,” Vince said, cupping Kyle’s face in his palms. “You’ll be running in style, but I’ll still catch you. Just like I did tonight.”

  Kyle frowned. Style? “What do you mean, running in style?”

  “Turn around.”

  He swallowed his nerves, pretty sure there was a reason they were standing in a garage, and gazed over his shoulder.

  “Oh… fuck, Vince.”
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  There was his Jeep Cherokee. A shiny black version of the beat-up old yellow thing now stuck by the side of the road.

  “It’s not new,” said Vince, “but it’s only had one owner. I think it was leased. It’s two years old and no accidents. And the heater even works.”

  “This’s what you were working for?”

  “Yeah. And I sold a couple paintings.”

  Kyle swung around again. “Really?”

  “Yep. On Etsy. Cat paintings.”

  “You’re kidding me?”

  Vince laughed. “Nope. That’s my second surprise. My stuff sold out really fast and people asked me for more. Which got me to wondering if maybe I can make a living at it. Maybe give up driving the cab if it works out. I want to try anyway, but I promise. You come first. Always. Now go on. Get in.”

  Kyle stared at it, afraid to move, afraid he might be dreaming. His stomach churned with a mishmash of emotions. Fear especially. Fear of the wreck he’d been about to make of his life. Don’t do anything rash. No, not rash. Destructive. Ruinous. Because he didn’t believe he was worth anything? Worth this Jeep. Worth Vince’s gift. Worth—

  Friendship? Love?

  A real family that cared about each other and stuck together?

  He turned back toward Vince. “Let’s go look at lights.”

  Vince grinned. “You’re on.”

  Home for Christmas

  Christmas breakfast was at Millie’s Bistro, one of the few places open, and Kyle’s favorite anyway. The coffee was hot with the perfect amount of bitter. The Belgian waffles came with strawberry compote and a pitcher of warm maple syrup. The minute Kyle’s plate hit the table, he dug in and filled his mouth with sticky-sweet, buttery, crunchy goodness.

  Vince grinned at him. “Enjoying that?”

  “Hm. The best.”

  The place was busy—bells jangling on the door, cold air gushing in as the heater rattled and puffed warm drafts. Condensation spread like snowdrifts on the window beside their table.

  After they finished their meals, Vince grabbed the bill and pushed back in his chair. “My treat, okay?”

  Kyle nodded. “I’ll get the tip.”

  He dropped a five on the table and stepped outside to wait, squinting in the thin, bright sunshine.

  Cedar Grove was small and quaint and quiet, but people stood listening to carolers in the park across the street and others skated at the rink. The lights on the tree in the center of the square frosted the cold air like the picture on a postcard.

  While he waited on the curb beside his new Jeep, Kyle pulled his phone from his pocket and found a text from Alissa.

  —Merry Christmas!!!

  Smiling, he tapped out his own message. —You too!

  —Everything okay?

  —No worries. I wasn’t stupid.

  —Thank God.

  —Tell you something on Wednesday.

  —Tell me now!

  —Nope. Anticipation.

  —Grrr.

  “Ready?”

  He pocketed his phone and glanced up with a smile. “Yep.”

  Twenty minutes later, Kyle pulled behind his old Jeep and popped its hood while Vince went around front. A few minutes later, he had it running and Kyle followed him home. Inside the house, he unplugged the Christmas tree and gathered some paper still lying on the floor. Paints and brushes covered the coffee table and canvases of various sizes leaned against the couch. He picked up one of the paints Vince had oo’d and aw’d over. Sap green. Not the most appealing of names. Not like vermilion or burnt umber or Kyle’s personal favorite, hooker’s green.

  “What?” asked Vince, coming in through the kitchen. He paused at the entrance to the hall and gazed at Kyle.

  “What do you mean, what?” Kyle asked.

  “You giggled.”

  He scowled. “I did not.”

  “Why are you looking at the paint?”

  “They’re pretty.”

  “They make pretty things, anyway.”

  Vince continued into the bedroom and Kyle set the tube down. Paints and canvases didn’t come close to a vehicle, even if Vince had seemed happy.

  “Here.” Vince reappeared, now with the Santa cap, which he set on Kyle’s head and tugged down to his ears. “Better.”

  “Goofy,” Kyle muttered.

  He locked the door behind him and followed Vince on the walkway. His brain still stuttered in surprised every time he laid eyes on his new Jeep.

  Vince glanced back with a grin. “Ever gonna let me drive it?”

  Kyle pursed his lips and cocked his head. “Hm… Maybe. When Santa moves to the South Pole.”

  “Damn. Guess I better get my real estate license and find him some prime property.”

  “Ha ha.”

  Amazing though his present was, it was still the guy sliding in beside him that stole Kyle’s breath. He reached across the seat and squeezed Vince’s hand before starting the engine and backing out of the garage.

  The trip to Vince’s parents’s house took three hours, and they went from cold and damp to bare-limbed trees and dark green pines dusted in snow.

  “Well, this is looking a little like Santa’s digs,” said Kyle, following the highway through town.

  “I remember a lot more snow when I was a kid.”

  “We used to get snow in Ashwood too. It was always so miraculous.”

  Vince laughed. “It still is. Except for the part where my dad insists on barbecuing in it.”

  And true to form, when they arrived, Vince’s dad, Rob, was standing on the covered porch, staring fixedly at his Camp Chef SmokePro, which was made for “Year-round cookery,” he proclaimed after Vince commented, “Most people cook their turkeys in the oven.”

  “Well, we’re having roast beef,” Rob added.

  The air was crisp and hit their noses like a thousand sharp needles, but it was a dry cold, Marian explained after crushing Kyle to death in a ferocious hug. “I’m so happy you’re here. I told Vince not to spring this on you. Three hours on Christmas day is a bit of a trip.”

  “That’s the perfect time,” said Vince, looking back in from the porch. “Traffic’s light.”

  “And I got to drive my new Jeep,” said Kyle. “It’s my Christmas present from Vince.”

  Marian’s mouth formed an O. “I have to see it. In fact,” she said, taking a hold of Kyle’s arm. “Let’s go for a drive.”

  Kyle threw a stare of panic at Vince, who waved him off with a grin.

  “Just drive back into town,” said Marian. “We’ll stop at the 7-11 and see if they have any eggnog. I like to collect it. It lasts into February according to the expiration date. And then it’s almost spring.” She played with the heater. “May I?”

  “Of course. Whatever feels comfortable.”

  Clearly, Vince had gotten his positivity from both Rob and Marian. There was never a chance he’d be a sourpuss.

  Marian sat back with a sigh, bundled in the jacket she’d grabbed off a hook as they’d exited the house. “Vince wouldn’t have come without you, and I love to cook for people. Vince says you don’t live near your family either.”

  “I don’t really have family,” he said.

  He had no idea where his mother lived now, but if she ever thought of him, he’d be surprised. She’d been arrested enough times, she might even be in jail for all he knew.

  Marian squeezed his forearm. “You’re welcome in our home. You make Vince happy, and that’s all I care about.”

  He glanced at her, jolted by surprise. “I do? Make Vince happy?”

  She laughed. “I know he’s cheerful by nature, but I also know when he’s happy. Yes, you make him happy. Vince is a homebody, and he tends to get lost in his art. I don’t think that’s necessarily easy to live with. It’s a little like losing your husband to a SmokePro.”

  Kyle snorted out a laugh. “Well, nobody’s perfect.”

  Marian laughed too. “So true.”

  After grabbing the last three carto
ns of eggnog, they returned to a dinner of “Not roast beef,” according to Vince.

  “No. It’s a barbecued beef roast,” said Rob.

  There was also au jus that had bubbled on the burner beside the beef, pinot noir gravy, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, corn bread muffins, cranberry sauce, ambrosia and green salad, and pumpkin pie. Kyle got to play Santa by virtue of his cap, and later, Vince bundled him up and led him outside to look at the lights and decorations around the neighborhood. Snow crusted in the gutters but had melted off the sidewalks. They held gloved hands and breathed frost into the air, a million miles away from the conference room at Kyle’s work. If it weren’t for his friends, whom he’d barely known he had, he wouldn’t want to return at all. But he would, though Vince was right. He had little reason to stay. But he wasn’t worried about that right now. He smiled at Vince, who was humming I’ll be Home for Christmas.

  “I’m glad we’re here,” said Kyle.

  Vince turned to him with a grin. “Me too. What are we doing for New Year’s?”

  “Staying in.”

  “Sounds romantic.”

  A slow smile crept up Kyle’s face. “I might be able to make it romantic.”

  Vince waggled his brows. “You’re on.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “No, I’m not sharing you with Santa.”

  Kyle jostled him. “Something else.”

  Vince slowed his pace in front of a house where a giant angel wobbled gently on the front lawn. Icicles dripped from the eaves and a tree twinkled in the window.

  “Something what?” Vince asked.

  “Will you marry me?”

  Vince blinked. The dark hid his expression, but he swallowed audibly and tightened his fingers on Kyle’s. His breath was a soft laugh. “Well… What’s Santa going to say?”

  “Fuck Santa.”

  Vince grinned, his teeth catching the gleam of the streetlamp on the corner. Pulling Kyle closer by the hand he held, he took a quick look around, then leaned in and caught his lips in a kiss. Kyle pushed in and tangled his tongue with Vince’s. The cold surrounded them, but Kyle warmed in Vince’s embrace for a few breathless moments before Vince straightened and took another quick look at their surroundings. They were still alone though.

  Vince breathed out with a smile. “You know, bagging Santa’s elf for myself was always my ultimate plan.”