Season of Gifts (Neighborly Affection #8)

2. Jay

Chapter two

Jay

A fter two hours and three tree lots, Jay had shared one bag of mini-doughnuts and two hot chocolates—both with Alice, since Henry took one look at the mountain of whipped cream and sprinkles and politely declined. He had held hands with both of his spouses—enjoying Henry’s strong, solid grip and Alice’s fuzzy mittened one. He had kissed the chill from Alice’s rosy cheeks, even though it was almost forty degrees and he could’ve gone coatless and still been plenty warm.

But he had not chosen a tree.

He scoured the last row. The pre-cuts were fine, they were all fine—probably cut last week, and iffy on lasting more than a day or two past Christmas, sure, but nothing was wrong with them. They just weren’t right .

Alice scooped up his hand and rubbed it between hers. “Whaddya say, another stop? The next place could have something better.”

He should just pick one and be satisfied, not drag Henry and Alice all over creation. No—pause—that was his sister’s influence, and he had tools to shut Peggy’s criticisms out of his head now. “I’m not sure. I think…”

He rooted around in his head, or his heart, or wherever thoughts and feelings came from. He’d never bought a tree. They grew on family land, in the rows his dad worked, but disloyalty wasn’t the thing stopping him. Holiday tunes played across the lot, but not loud enough to drown out the hum of traffic or the honking of annoyed drivers. The ground under his feet was asphalt, not dirt. Henry and Alice should get the real experience, something memorable.

“Henry, can we…” He didn’t have a saw in the trunk, though he’d made sure to bring a sturdy blanket and tie-down ropes and a traffic flag, because their grand house deserved a grand tree to fill it. He chewed his lip, but Henry’s gaze was encouraging, and learning to speak up for himself had been part of their pact from the start. “I think we need a farm, not a lot. Someplace quieter. No traffic, no tall buildings.” They couldn’t get mountains like at home, but a forested field would do. “I want us to cut our own.”

Henry laid a hand on Jay’s chest, fingers splayed, broad and weighty over his heart. “Then that is what we will do. I’m proud of you, Jay.”

He covered Henry’s hand with his free one, uncaring if someone came down the row and saw them standing in their little huddle. “Took me a while to figure it out.”

“We’ve all day. You took the time you needed, nothing more.” This close, Henry’s eyes carried a more intense green than any of the trees around them. “I suspect the feeling you’re searching for isn’t found in these rows.”

“It’s wherever the two of you are.” Aching for a kiss, Jay leaned in. The more his anxiety about being out in public faded, the more he asked for. Henry probably would’ve kissed Alice already if she’d been that close, but he took extra care with Jay’s cues.

His lips brushed Henry’s.

With a satisfied hum, Henry sealed the gap. Heat burst in Jay’s chest like the strike of a match. He followed where Henry led, giving ground, parting his lips under delicious pressure. Henry drew back before they could start a bonfire.

Alice stretched up on her toes and kissed Jay’s cheek. She’d slipped her hand from his, and her mittens off too, and she waved her phone at him. “I’ve got three good candidates with the species you like; you should pick one to start.” To Henry, she added, “All under forty-five minutes and open for cut-your-own until dusk.”

“My problem-solver,” their husband whispered. Alice had won a kiss, too.

When she stepped back with hungry eyes and a soft sigh, Jay handed over the phone. “This one, please. The two of you want me to drive?”

Laughing, Alice stuffed her phone into her coat pocket and grabbed them both by the hand before marching toward the exit. “Maybe I should drive.”

In the end, Henry drove, and Alice navigated from the back seat until they pulled into a crunchy gravel lot beside a proper barn. Parents wrangled kids into sitting still on carefully stacked haybales, bribing them with chocolate-dipped pretzels and hot apple cider. Neat rows of pine and fir and spruce stood as far as the eye could see.

Jay inhaled, real deep, and the almost citrusy scent of fresh-cut evergreens sank inside him. His lovers had a lemony-orange scent like that, both of them—maybe that’s how his nose had known they were for him. “This is the place.”

“Our expert has spoken.” Henry stood beside the car too, but he was smiling at Jay, not the trees. “We will place ourselves in your hands, dear boy.”

A glance at Alice, and her approving head tilt, and Jay captured Henry’s hand and strode toward the barn. Henry rubbed slight circles in Jay’s palm. The sounds here weren’t city sounds; chatter and laughter, yeah, but the singing of saws and the thunk and swish of hiking boots on a carpet of dirt and pine needles, and somewhere the hearty huffs and jingling harness of a horse. No snow yet this season—couldn’t be sleigh rides. The food stall had hot tea and plain shiny apples in addition to more sweets for him and Alice, so he left Henry in the line and kept on toward the cut-your-own sign. Alice disappeared into the crowd.

The counter was busy, three folks back behind at a time, rotating in as they returned from the field. As Jay stepped up, an older fella, not Dad’s age, but with a close-cut graying beard and a plaid hat with earflaps buttoned out of the way and the farm’s logo on the front, raised his chin in greeting. “Like the sign says”—he jerked a thumb upward—“I can bring along a chainsaw and do the cutting once you’ve made your pick, or you can borrow a handsaw and cut it yourself. Can’t let you handle the chainsaw; liability, you know. You got a sense of which you want?”

He did, and it wasn’t hanging on the back wall with the basic handsaws and bow saws. “Any chance you got a nice curved felling saw back there with a raker tooth?”

Leaning back, the older man folded his arms across his chest and grinned. “Well all right then. I like a man who knows what he’s about. S’pose you’ll want the hand axe for the face cut.”

“If you don’t mind.” This was a hell of a lot better than the pre-cut lot. Exponential, Alice would say. “We’re all about traditional this year. Looking for a nice Fraser, maybe eight-nine feet.” Had to leave room for a topper, but their beauty was gonna fill the whole front window. “You bale? We’ll be strapping it to the roof to get it home.”

“Baling’s included, sure enough, nice solid netting.” His forester slipped into a side room and came back with a well-kept felling saw and a small hand axe before leading Jay outside. “Where’ve you worked the season? We could use extra hands on the weekends, if you’re looking.”

Tempting, but he’d pass. This year was about time with Henry and Alice. Who were—ah, there, Alice apparently snapping photos with her phone and Henry toting a drink carrier with assorted goodies. Jay swung his arm over his head. “Up north. More than a few seasons. Family business, you know how it is.”

The older man snorted. “Ayup, that I do. So you were running the cider stand at seven and felling the trees by ten, hauling ’em back on a sled with the buyer’s kids.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Going out with the customers had been the best part, though, when they weren’t champion arguers pretending to have a perfect Christmas for the kids before filing divorce papers in January. The sled runners gliding along the snow, the little kids trying to race him, the grown folks trusting his advice about which tree would suit them. Almost as good as being out on his bike the rest of the year. “No kids for the sled yet, though, so you’re safe today.”

Alice dashed up to him, her face flushed and her grin a mile wide. “Jay, they have Percherons, did you see? Just gorgeous. My aunt and uncle had a pair. They were the absolute sweetest.”

Shame there wasn’t any snow, though he’d definitely heard harnesses. “I haven’t seen, but maybe…” He raised his brows at their forester. “Wagons today?”

“Wagon if you want to ride with other folks; surrey if you want something cozier.” He dipped his head at Alice. “You’ve a fine eye, miss.” He pointed them around the side of the barn, where a driver was just leaving with a loaded wagon of families. A red open-top carriage with white trim sat waiting. “You give me a minute, and I’ll get that big gray boy harnessed.” The big gray boy was tied to a picket line, getting a friendly rubdown from a handler. “Wicked Winter’s Peppermint Balm. Wick, we call him. Gentle as can be.”

“Wick.” Alice gave a horse-crazy girl sigh. “Will the surrey fit us? We have a third—”

“And here he is, with apologies for the delay.” Henry held out the feast he’d gotten them—not just a plain tea and apple, but spiced cider, hot chocolate, an enormous cookie, and a bag of buttery popcorn. “I thought you two might enjoy a bit of everything. Have we secured what we need for this adventure?”

Jay swiped some popcorn. Good crunch. Warm, melty butter. “Tools”—he held up the saw and the axe—“and provisions, yes. Just deciding on transportation. Got a choice between our own feet or a carriage ride, and I think Alice wants to take the horse home.”

“Oh, no, the yard isn’t nearly big enough.” She hadn’t taken her eyes off the horse, though. Henry settled the cider cup in her hand, and she sipped. “Mmm, cinnamon-y.”

“Surrey’ll take all three of you, if you don’t mind close quarters.” The older man extended his hand to Henry. “Glenn. I’ll be your hauler today, though this young man says he wants to make the cut himself.”

Henry introduced himself with a firm shake. “Jay is our expert. I trust he’ll manage it brilliantly.”

They headed over to the carriage, Henry and the older man chatting while Jay trotted alongside Alice. She snapped photos of the carriage. Henry snapped photos of her with her forehead against the horse’s muzzle as she scratched under his jaw before Glenn hooked him up. Henry’s photos would become sketch references; that was easy. Alice’s photo obsession was a mystery. They climbed into the back seat of the surrey, Henry handing Alice up first and the two of them squeezing her between them, hip to hip.

Glenn clicked his tongue, and Wick set off. “Nine foot Fraser, you said?”

“Yessir, that’s the one.” He left his hand upturned on his thigh, and Alice claimed it with her own. “So what’s with all the photos?”

Henry wrapped his arm across the back of the bench seat, his fingers stretching just far enough to rest on Jay’s shoulder. “Documenting the experience?”

Alice hem-hawed with her free hand. “Some for us, but bunches for Becky. Just options to think about.”

Damn he loved this woman. She didn’t have to be so involved in helping his niece transform the family farm, but of course she’d thought of it. “She’ll love that. Nat’s right, she might lose the favorite aunt title if you keep this up.”

When they’d finally checked messages Friday, Becky had texted them a selfie out by the barn in her Kress Family Tree Farm shirt with a big old grin on her face. I don’t know what you did, Uncle Jay, and Mom’s in a mood, but Pop-pop wants me shadowing him on everything for opening weekend so I can learn the business. Thank you! Plus like thirteen emojis he hadn’t entirely deciphered.

They’d finished the cider and about half the popcorn when Glenn called a whoa and Wick jangled to a halt. Trees lined every direction. This place was heaven. “All Frasers of a proper size, this row, that one, the next three.” He gestured from the driver’s seat. “You give a holler when you’re ready to fell; I’ll be here with this good boy.”

Jay shot a sly smile at Henry before hopping down. He wasn’t about to make a joke about Henry’s good boy with Glenn there, but the twitch in Henry’s lips sent a zing of excitement down his spine anyhow.

Alice let him clasp her waist and slide her down in front of him. She patted under Jay’s jaw like she’d been canoodling with the horse. “All right, good boy, let’s find that tree.”

Wick snorted and stamped. Alice giggled. Glenn tipped his hat, revealing a smooth shaved head underneath. “You take all the time you want.”

They tramped down the rows, Jay giving a running commentary so his lovers would know why he’d rejected this one or that one. Henry crunched his apple; Alice let Jay lick melted chocolate chips from her fingers as she broke bites off the cookie for them both. The crisp air filled his lungs; the sun played hide-and-seek with the clouds. And then he found it.

He circled four times to be sure. Straight trunk, shapely branches trained around one primary, solid springback, no holes, no browning, good clearance at the ground for the cut. He set the tools near the base. “This is it.”

Henry hummed softly, the familiar opening bars of “O Christmas Tree.” He laid his hands on Jay’s shoulders, so light until Jay nodded, then gripping with increasing pressure. “Thy choice of green delights us.”

Henry’s breath warmed Jay’s mouth as he swept in with a kiss, all tea and chocolate and evergreen and citrus swirling around him. His feet had to be floating; he couldn’t feel the ground. The stirring in his jeans, that he could feel. The thumping in his chest. The whoosh-whoosh of blood past his ears, yup, that too. Henry dotted his lips with more kisses, smaller kisses, before letting him go.

“Take a minute, my boy.” Henry’s eyes glowed with warmth. “I’ll fetch our assistant.”

As he walked back down the lane, Alice sidled up next to Jay and passed him her phone. “That photo’s just for us.”

She’d captured them with the tree behind them, Jay’s head tipped back, eyes closed, lips parted as Henry pulled away. He’d never seen himself like that with Henry before. Casual photos, goofy photos—but not this, not Henry’s singular attention and his own aching desire. He stroked the air above the screen. He was, they were…

“Beautiful.” He buried his face in Alice’s neck and covered her in teasing kisses. “Send it to me?”

The phone nudged out of his grasp, which left his hands free to circle her waist. “Done,” she murmured. “And I hear bells.”

Bells—oh, uh-huh, he heard bells too, and there was Wick coming down the row toward them, with Henry and Glenn on the front bench. Jay stepped between the trees, stuffed his hand down his jeans, and made an adjustment in his shorts. He couldn’t claim he’d never cut down a tree while sporting a hard-on before; he’d been a teenager once, and there might’ve been a girl or seven who’d gotten his blood pumping, even if he’d never spoken a word to them.

The work moved faster then, the axe familiar in his hand as he cut a notch to guide the tree’s fall. He started the back cut on the opposite side, lying on the ground just below the lowest branches—nice work the farm had done, trimming off the sweepers so you didn’t get a face full of needles. The saw blade slid smoothly with a little depth, the raker teeth clearing the greenwood easily. He rolled out on his back and waved Alice down. “You wanna try? Cuts like butter. I’ll tell you all about the saw engineering on the way home.”

She scrambled down, game for trying anything—and hadn’t that been a lucky stroke for him and Henry both. He pressed up behind her and set her hands in a secure grip. “You don’t have to force it—let the teeth do the work.”

She rippled against him in a suppressed laugh. “Thought you wanted more tongue than teeth,” she whispered, “but I can scrape my teeth along your trunk later and we can find out.”

Lying with her ass snug against his crotch as she wriggled the saw back and forth was not helping his dick settle down. But it might rank in his top ten experiences.

She cut through a third of the trunk and declared her arms were worn out. He’d seen her arms stroke longer than that, but he kept his mouth firmly shut as she crawled out and tugged Henry forward. “You have to try this.”

Which was how he ended up lying behind Henry and positioning his hands for the cut. “Yup, just like that, and then nice and gentle, start it sliding.”

“Like this, you say?” Henry wasn’t half as innocent as he sounded, and he’d dropped his voice into the bassy register where commands lived.

“Mm-hmm.” An inch of ground separated his cock from Henry’s ass. Somewhere on the far side of the tree, Alice peppered Glenn with questions about special events the farm offered. Jay lowered his voice. “I’m not used to being the one in back.”

“Nor should you be,” Henry whispered. “But we’ll see if we might take this in another direction at home.”

Close to the finish, as the gap widened and the saw wobbled, Jay took over the cut while Henry and Alice stabilized the trunk. He called timber for their amusement; as they jumped back, the tree landed dead center on the tarp Glenn had laid down. The older man inspected the cut and gave him a hand up from the ground. “Mighty fine work. You get the itch, any weekend, the offer’s open.”

Between the hauling and baling and tie-down, and the trek inside the barn for mantel swags and a door wreath and a proper tree stand, it was nearly sunset when they climbed back in the car. Barely past four, and it would be dark before they got home. But he’d have plenty of time to get the tree in water before dinner, and then there were those promises Henry and Alice had made about the after-dinner entertainment.

This December would be different than every one before it. But like his therapist said, different didn’t have to mean bad. Sometimes change was what you needed to reach something better. The traditions he started with Henry and Alice this year could last a lifetime.