Chapter 23
The house was dark when Graham arrived home. Quietly, he slipped in through the front door. Coco and his mother, fast asleep in the living room when he’d left, were nowhere to be seen.
Shit, he thought to himself. They’d gone up to bed. Which meant they’d been awake to discover his absence. How exactly did he intend to explain that one away?
He heaved a tired sigh. That would be a problem for tomorrow Graham to solve. Kicking off his shoes, he shuffled down to the basement for another night of crashing on the couch.
God, what a mess. And to think how great this night had started. Sneaking out of the house just like they were teenagers again. Taking in a view that belonged in an art museum. Sharing a kiss under the stars that made his blood run hot.
And that wasn’t even counting the sex. Holy fuck, had that been hot. Over the years, Graham had cooked up no shortage of fantasies about his secret high school crush, but he had to admit it, the real deal blew them all out of the water.
It had simply been so…effortless. As if they just instinctively…fit.
It had been some time since he’d had sex like that back in LA.
Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever had sex like that back in LA.
Laying down on the sofa, he shut his eyes and played back the scene in his mind.
Their limbs tangled together.
Mouths pressed against each other.
Dicks standing erect side-by-side.
He registered a firmness beneath his belt then. Shit, maybe he did need a shower. A cold one.
Restless, he sat up to think. Perhaps he should have corrected Brent’s mistake, insisted he let him explain who Orlando in fact really was.
Then again, maybe this was for the best. After all, the promotion of his dreams was on the line—and keeping a wildcard like Coco under control was hard enough already without the added distraction of romance.
Especially a romance that was destined to go up in flames when they had to return to LA come Christmas Day.
He let loose a groan. Yes, Graham, he decided, this is definitely for the best. Brent was a distraction. You’ve come too far to throw this away on him.
Would he have preferred for things to have ended without him looking like a two-timing cheater? Sure. But hey, it got the job done. Based on the look in Brent’s eyes when Graham had left, he didn’t intend on bothering him ever again.
“Good riddance,” Graham scoffed. Lying back down on the couch, he pulled a blanket over himself. Christmas Day—and busting out of this holly, jolly backwater—couldn’t come soon enough.
* * *
The smell of fresh coffee greeted Graham as he showed himself in the kitchen the next morning.
“There he is,” chimed his mother as she deposited a steaming mug into his hands.
Coco eyed his zombie-like face as he downed his first swig. “Geez, by the looks of it, you could use that.”
He shot her a vicious glare.
“Someone sure was out late last night,” his mother prodded. “And sleeping in the basement when you’ve got a nice, warm bed with Coco upstairs?”
Graham heaved a sigh as he set his mug down on the counter. Here we go. “I, uh, didn’t want to wake you, darling. I know what a light sleeper you can be.” He shot her a warning glare.
“What were you boys doing out so late?” his mother continued.
The question made Graham’s pulse tick up. “Oh, nothing. I mean, it was just me.”
“Just you?” his mother asked. “Graham, don’t you realize it’s dangerous being out at night alone?”
He responded with an eye roll. “I think I can handle the mean streets of Mistletoe Grove, Mom.” He shrugged at them both. “I was just having trouble falling asleep, so I decided to get some fresh air. Simple as that.”
At this, Coco narrowed her eyes. “Couldn’t sleep, eh? Something—or someone—on your mind?”
He shot her another warning glance. “Just my attentive, faithful, and loyal companion.”
Coco blew out a scoff. “You talking about a girl or a golden retriever?”
A roguish glint lit up Graham’s eyes. “Well, now that you mention it, she does have a knack for turning into a—”
“Graham!” his mother cut off. “Need I remind you whose kitchen you’re standing in right now?”
Silent, he glowered at Coco smirking at the scolding he’d just received like he was a child again.
“Well, regardless,” his mother broke the silence, “I’m glad to see you boys getting along so well.”
Graham tried and failed to stifle a scoff. “I wouldn’t exactly put it that way.”
His mother’s perennial glow seemed to dim. “Oh? What makes you say that?”
The question put Graham on edge. “Any reason why you have such a vested interest in what Brent and I think of each other?” He made a show of cozying up to Coco, giving his best performance of heterosexuality.
His mother raised her hands to claim innocence. “I just think it’s good when two fine, young men reconnect.”
Graham’s face darkened as he turned his head away. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think I’m going to be seeing much of Brent anymore.”
A concerned glance passed between Coco and Carol.
“Well, hopefully whatever happened between you boys will work itself out.” Carol wrapped her arms around her two guests as if to raise the room’s spirits.
“Now, come on, gang. Let’s cut the long faces, shall we?
” She patted them both on their behinds.
“Go upstairs and get ready. We’ve got shopping to do! ”
The magic words perked Coco up instantly. “Shopping?”
Graham swallowed down the dread he felt rising all of a sudden. Shopping at Christmas with Coco and his mother?
This called for something much stronger than coffee.
* * *
For all her earlier excitement about their shopping excursion, the trio’s arrival at their destination left Coco considerably less enthused.
“Marjorie’s Thrift ’n’ Gift?” she read the shop window sign in disbelief. “We’re shopping secondhand?”
“Of course,” Carol replied, locking the car with her key fob. “Everyone knows the best holiday sweaters come from places like this.”
The response turned Graham slack-jawed. “Holiday sweaters? Please tell me you’re joking.”
At this, his mother propped her hands on her hips. “I most certainly am not. What would my annual Christmas party be without a little gay apparel?”
Something about the way she said those last words made Graham’s stomach squirm.
There was no chance to protest, though. The next thing Graham knew, Carol had hooked arms with Coco and himself. “Come on, let’s go inside. I promise this’ll be fun!”
They were interrupted then by a voice from down the block.
“Carol!”
It was Mayor Pickering, his loyal—not to mention lumbering—companion Oscar at his side.
Graham felt himself tense up at the sight of the pair instantly.
Unlike his mother, who had simultaneously melted into a puddle.
“Mayor Pickering, what a surprise!” She primped her hair demurely. “Kids, why don’t you head in without me. I’ll catch up.”
Graham sensed his blood pressure rise. “But, Mom, this was all your…”
One more look at Oscar—in all his clumsy, sloppy, and drool-covered glory—though, was all Graham needed to reconsider his protest. “You know what, take your time.” He hooked arms with Coco. “Come on, darling. It’s time I introduce you to a little something called synthetic fiber.”