Chapter Three
Dave kissed Chris’s cheek. “Have a good day.”
Chris beamed. “I will.” He dashed through the school gates, making a beeline for Ethan who stood in the middle of the playground, kicking a ball to another boy.
Within moments, Chris had joined them, and Dave had to smile at the sight of three little boys whooping as they shot goals through two schoolbags serving as temporary posts.
Dave turned and headed for home, his head in a mess.
Why did I suggest this?
He still couldn’t believe he’d had the nerve to ask Jeff, and less than twenty-four hours later, he was regretting his impulsiveness. When he thought back on their conversation, he got an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach, and his mouth dried up.
When did I last feel this nervous? Then it hit him. When Matt asked me out on our first date. But this wasn’t a date, just a stroll around the Christmas market. And he’d been the one to ask, not Jeff.
So why am I nervous?
That part was easy. Jeff was a gorgeous man. A gorgeous, gay man. And he obviously wanted Dave to know that bit of information, or else why mention it?
It’s just a walk around the markets, nothing more.
Except that wasn’t true. It was so much more than a walk, and he knew it. Matt would be proud of me. It was only a first step, but at least it was a step in the right direction. There’s nothing to be nervous about.
Dave hurried home. He had two hours to decide what he was going to wear.
Yeah. So much more than a walk.
Jeff paid for his coffee and then headed to the wooden picnic tables beside the bratwurst stand. He sat, shivering in the cold morning wind, watching the customers who were starting to appear here and there, probably to enjoy the rides while it was still quiet.
What am I doing? Why did I say yes?
Stupid question. Dave was a very attractive man, but there was more to it than mere looks.
Did I feel sorry for him? Chris had described his dad as lonely.
Jeff could understand that if he was getting over the loss of his husband.
There’d been something in Dave’s eyes, not…
a haunted expression exactly, but there had been sadness.
Maybe that was why I said yes. Maybe I wanted to banish a little of his sorrow.
He also wanted to get to know Dave better.
“I’m not late, am I?”
Jeff jerked his head up, snapping out of his internal ramblings. Dave stood there in a thick dark blue jacket, a striped scarf tucked around his neck and under his chin.
“Not at all. I just needed a coffee to warm up.”
Dave’s eyes gleamed. “That sounds like a great idea.” He went over to the stall.
Jeff resisted the urge to turn his head and stare at Dave’s jeans-clad arse. Not that he hadn’t already got a good look the previous day when Dave had walked away after Chris’s visit. When Dave rejoined him, Jeff inclined his head toward the market stalls.
“You picked a good time of day. I’ve seen it when you could hardly move in there.”
Dave smiled. “Have you ever seen the Christmas markets in Europe?” Jeff shook his head. “One December, Matt took me to Prague. That was… magical. The streets were like something out of a Dickens novel, and it added an atmosphere to the event.”
Jeff cleared his throat. “Confession time.” When Dave arched his eyebrows, he sighed. “I’ve never been out of the UK. I don’t even have a passport.”
Dave gaped. “Seriously?”
Jeff nodded. “I know. It sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”
Dave’s brow furrowed. “I wouldn’t say stupid. There are probably lots of people in the same boat.” He cocked his head. “Have you ever thought about it?”
“Once or twice. I’d like to see Paris, but I was crap at French in school.”
Dave chuckled. “Been there too. Matt let me do all the talking. He could manage merci and deux bières s’il vous pla?t. He claimed that was enough.”
“You speak French?”
Dave nodded. “My degree was in French. It comes in handy with my career.” When Jeff gave him a puzzled glance, he grinned. “I obviously didn’t get that far yesterday. I translate books into French.”
Jeff was impressed. “What kind of books?”
“Mostly fiction.” Dave’s face flushed.
That piqued Jeff’s interest. “What kind of fiction?”
The flush deepened. “Romance.”
Jeff grinned. “Hey, I think that’s cool. Have you translated many books?”
“So many that I stopped counting.”
“Is it a good career?”
Dave shrugged. “It pays the bills. And I’ve stuck with romance because after a while, you get into a groove, and it becomes easier. You become accustomed to the idioms and vocabulary.”
Jeff couldn’t resist. “And do you like romance?”
Dave’s eyes twinkled. “More than I did when I started.” He took a long drink from his cup. “Shall we go look at the stalls? I don’t want to take up all your free time this morning.”
“I’m going to be sitting in that chair for five hours. I’ll take all the walking I can get.” He drank what was left of his coffee, then got to his feet. Dave walked beside him as they strolled to the entrance of the Christmas market.
It was great to take his time, stopping at every stall.
There was so much to see: ceramic half-timber houses, into which were inserted tea lights to shine through their tiny windows; lamps, their bases cut from rock salt; wooden toys that seemed to belong to a bygone era; nativity scenes carved in different woods; glass jars for candles with brightly painted winter scenes; and permeating the market was the scent of cinnamon and cloves, the heavenly aroma of glühwein.
While they strolled, they talked. Dave brought up the topic of books, and Jeff discovered they both loved Stephen King and Dean Koontz.
Dave told him about going to hear his sister’s folk band: she was the lead singer, and they’d recently played at a local pub.
Jeff was pretty sure his eyes had lit up at that. It was pleasant, easy conversation.
What stuck in Jeff’s mind the most was that Matt’s name didn’t crop up once.
Is he lonely? Jeff couldn’t tell. Chris’s request was in the forefront of his mind. He said Dave is trying to hide his loneliness. He’d also said Dave was a great guy. Even on such a short acquaintance, Jeff had no argument with that.
“Oh, look at that.” Dave pointed to a stall. It was laid out with ornaments. Angels flew in circles, propelled by the heat from candles. There were more designs, all moving and spinning at different speeds.
What had caught Dave’s attention was a little Christmas tree in a silvery metal. It balanced on a spoke that rose from the tea light container, its filigree surface sending out light that danced as it spun.
“That’s pretty,” Jeff affirmed.
“Chris would love this. He’s got a thing for candles at the moment.” Dave chuckled, “Not sure if he thinks they’re pretty, or he harbours secret desires to set fire to stuff.”
Jeff laughed. “You’ve got a budding pyromaniac, is that it? Hide the matches.”
Dave chose a tree and paid for it, taking the plastic bag from the stall owner.
“Can we go back to the ceramic house stall?” Jeff asked.
“Sure.”
They ambled through the market until they arrived at the colourful stall.
Jeff smiled. “These are great. I have three at home, but I only put tea lights in them at Christmas. What I like about them is that they’re all different.
Each one has an interesting feature.” He sighed.
“That’s what I want to build—interesting houses.
” When Dave frowned, he explained. “These days, houses are all these little airtight boxes with no soul. When you look at the some of the buildings created by the Victorians and earlier… We’ve lost something.
Nowadays we throw up houses, and as fast as we can build them, there are never enough. I’d like to build something… quirky.”
Dave smiled. “You’d love my house, then.”
Jeff stilled. “Really?”
“It was a park-keeper’s lodge, built in the late nineteenth century.”
“Oh wow. What’s it like?”
“It has real character. It stands on the edge of the park, and the views are amazing. It belonged to Matt’s great-grandmother, and he inherited it when she died.”
“She left him a house?”
“She was a wonderful old lady. Old money—she had more than she could ever spend. Matt says she owned three or four properties, all over the country.” Dave’s eyes were warm.
“She was also the only one of his relatives who didn’t give a damn that he was gay.
For all the rest, they looked as though they’d sucked on lemons their whole lives, every time we were around them.
So once Matt died, I cut all ties. I don’t want Chris exposed to that.
There are enough haters out there—he doesn’t need them in his own family. ”
“So his great-grandmother wasn’t the park-keeper?” Jeff inquired with a smile.
Dave laughed. “No, but she had a good eye for property. Matt said she snapped the house up as soon as it came on the market. She had it renovated before she died. Matt loved it the moment he saw it. Chris and I are so lucky to live there.” He stilled.
“Why don’t you visit it one day? When you’re not playing Santa, of course. I work from home, so I’m always there.”
“Seriously?”
Dave nodded. “Why not?” His eyes gleamed. “Do you get a day off during silly season? That’s what I call the run-up to Christmas.”
“It’s a part-time job, so yes.”
“Then come see the house. I think you’d like it. When’s your next day off?”
“Thursday.”
“Then stop by Thursday afternoon.”
Jeff wasn’t sure what to make of the request. “If you’re sure…”
“Of course I’m sure. I can give you the grand tour, then if it’s cold, we can toast crumpets by the fire.”
Jeff knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he didn’t care. Dave had painted a scene that he longed to experience for himself. “You’re on.” He chuckled. “You had me at crumpets.”
Dave laughed. “Great. Then I’d better give you the address.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Do you drive?”
“No. Well, I do—I just don’t have a car.” Cars and London were not a good mix, not when he could get everywhere by public transport.
“We live in Bromley, about twenty minutes by train from Victoria Station.” He gave Jeff an expectant glance, his lips twitching. “I’ll need your number.”
Jeff rolled his eyes. “Sorry. I’m miles away. Give me your phone, and I’ll add it.” Dave handed it over, and Jeff typed quickly. “There.” He handed it back. “What time Thursday?”
Dave thought for a moment. “Any time after two. Chris will be home about three-thirty.” He paused. “I’m still astounded he didn’t recognize you. I felt sure he would.”
Jeff had been thinking about that too. “It’s one of those things.
I read somewhere recently that Dolly Parton didn’t even place in a Dolly Parton lookalike contest. He didn’t connect me with the red suit.
” Which was no bad thing. Jeff could imagine the situation becoming awkward. “Let’s leave it at me being a friend.”
“Fine by me.” Dave smiled. “I’ve really enjoyed this.”
“Me too.” Dave was good company.
“But now I must be going.”
Jeff had to fight the urge to blurt out Do you have to? Instead, he nodded. “You have work to do. And I’ll see you on Thursday.”
Dave’s eyes sparkled. “I’ll make sure I have crumpets.” He held out his hand, and Jeff shook it. Dave smiled. “Still using that hand cream, I see.” Then he walked off, heading for the exit.
Jeff’s only thought was that way too many hours of work lay between then and Thursday.