Chapter 25
Slack-jawed, Graham did a double take at the shirtless Adonis before him. A deer in headlights would have looked less shocked in comparison as he gawked at Brent half-naked in the fitting room.
An incredibly sexy Brent half-naked in the fitting room. Damn, could it have been possible that he’d managed to get even hotter in the twelve hours since their…tryst?
Graham banished the thought from his mind. Now was no time for lusting. Not when he’d just steamrolled full-speed into a landmine.
And of course, to make matters worse—because apparently it wasn’t bad enough barging in on a disrobed high school crush with whom he’d just done the mattress dance, and who now thought Graham was a dirty, two-timing cheat—his very own mother had a front-row seat from which to watch the disaster play out live.
God, what had he done to deserve this?
Helping herself, Carol commandeered the matching sweaters the two men held. “Well, what do you know? Looks like you boys have similar taste!”
In more ways than one, added a voice inside Graham’s head.
“I guess this means this sweater’s a winner!
” Giddy, Carol set off toward the register.
Before getting far, though, she paused and spun around, a hint of a grin curled on her lips.
“Just do me a favor, Brent, and get yourself decent. You’re very pretty, but for where I’m taking you, you’re going to want to layer up. ”
Graham felt an anvil drop in his stomach. “Say what?”
His concern, however, left Carol unfazed. “Well, actually, where Mayor Pickering is taking us all.”
At this, Graham stole a glance out the window to the spot on the sidewalk where, not ten minutes ago, his mother and the Mayor had been making goo-goo eyes at each other like a couple of lovesick teenagers.
Sure enough, the old whackadoo hadn’t budged an inch as he and his loyal, if incorrigible, companion Oscar waited faithfully out front.
Graham shook his head vehemently. “Oh, no. I don’t care what you two have cooked up. You’re not getting me anywhere near that flea-ridden nuisance again—or his dog, for that matter.”
A reproachful glower flooded Carol’s face. “Surely, my ears must be deceiving me, Graham. I just know no son of mine would show that kind of disrespect toward such a fine, upstanding member of our community.”
Chastened, Graham averted his eyes. Funny how, even after all these years, his mother could still bring him to shame just like he was a kid again. “Fine. I’ll come, but I think Brent would rather sit this one out, yes?” He cast his counterpart a meaningful glare.
“That would appear to be for the best,” Brent agreed, voice icy.
The exchange seemed to leave Carol dumbfounded. “Did something happen between you boys?”
“No!” the two men replied hastily in unison.
The look on Carol’s face, though, said she remained unconvinced. “Good. In that case, I don’t see why we shouldn’t all go together then, agreed?”
At this, a defeated sigh passed between Graham and Brent. Clearly, Carol’s mind was made up. And both of them knew that when Mistletoe Grove’s Christmas queen set her mind to something, not even Saint Nick himself would be able to stand in her way.
“Well, I’m glad that’s settled,” she decreed, officially laying the matter to rest. She spun back around toward the register. “Oh, and on your way out, would you mind grabbing a scarf and some mittens? Nice and festive, please!”
The suggestion drew an eye roll from Graham. “Mom, the last thing we need is more winter gear.”
Carol smirked playfully. “Oh, these aren’t going to be for us.” Without further explanation, she departed for the register.
Left alone with Brent, Graham felt his stomach roll over. Whatever harebrained plot his mother was cooking up, something told him he was not going to like it.
He flicked a glance over at his companion, still shirtless beside him. The sight sent a shimmy inside his chest.
A shimmy he knew meant bad things ahead.
“Would you put some clothes on already?”
Without further ado, he shuffled back onto the sales floor. With any luck, Marjorie’s Thrift ’n’ Gift would be fresh out of scarves and mittens, and whatever cockeyed scheme his mother had in store would end up permanently on ice.
* * *
To Graham’s chagrin, no such luck was to be had, which was why, not twenty minutes later, he found himself—plus Brent, Coco, Carol, Mayor Pickering, and yes, Oscar, too—back in the town square where this whole calamity had first begun.
“All right, Mom,” he said with a sigh, “what are we doing here, huh?”
The question elicited a joyful squeal from Carol. “I suppose I’ve kept you in suspense long enough, haven’t I?” She reached into her pockets and pulled out two lumps of coal.
Suddenly, Graham felt his stomach lurch. “Please tell me you’ve got a grill and some burgers to go with that.”
She gave her son a good-natured smack on the chest. “Very funny, Graham. You know my doctor doesn’t want me eating red meat. The reason for these coals is because we’re building a—”
“Snowman!” Coco exclaimed, practically jumping for joy.
Graham, for his part, failed to share her enthusiasm. “Seriously, Mom? What are we, twelve?”
“You’re never too old to be a kid at heart, sweetie.” She shoved the two lumps of coal his way. “These are for you. And don’t worry. There’s plenty more where that came from.”
With an exasperated sigh, Graham turned his face heavenward. “Well, glory to the newborn king.”
* * *
Back in LA, Graham prided himself on a strict six-days-a-week gym regimen. And granted, though he may not have been at the top of WeHo’s muscle gay food chain, he did consider himself in adequate shape compared to the general population.
Rolling a giant ball of snow across the square, though, he quickly found his ego knocked down to size.
With a huff, he paused to wipe his brow. Geez, if even he was struggling with this, he could only imagine how the others must have been faring.
“Hey, Bartlett!” came a familiar voice from behind. “Get the lead out!”
The next thing Graham knew, he was watching Brent roll a snowball twice the size of his straight past him—and all without even breaking a sweat.
A swell of heat sizzled on his forehead. That was some nerve Brent had, taunting him like that. Especially after he’d refused to let Graham explain the truth about Orlando’s phone call. Was he trying to torture Graham?
Because if he was, Graham had far better methods of discipline in mind.
He shook the thought away. Get it together, Graham.
You already decided this is for the best. So Brent thinks you’re a two-timing cheat.
Big deal. You can’t afford being distracted by romance now anyway, not with this charade you still need to keep up with Coco.
Remember, the promotion of your dreams is riding on this, Graham.
And if that meant giving up riding on the man of his dreams, then that was a price he’d just have to pay.
Almost as if on cue, the sight of Brent’s firm, round ass as he heaved his gargantuan snowball ahead entered Graham’s vision. God, this job had better be worth it.
Just then, his thoughts dispersed at a shrill voice piercing his ears. “Oscar, not again!”
Across the square, the mangy beast had once again broken loose from the Mayor in hot pursuit of what was apparently one of the more daring members of the local squirrel population.
Unfortunately, by the time the group had registered just what was going on, the determined, if boneheaded, mutt had disappeared down the block.
Without hesitation, Brent sprang into action.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Carol swung her arms wide. “We can’t all go after Oscar. What if he comes back here? Someone needs to stay in case he returns.”
“I volunteer,” Graham offered, perhaps a bit hastier than necessary.
“Bless you,” Carol replied, her hand resting on his shoulder. “Brent, stay back with Graham, will you? If Oscar does come back before we find him, there ought to be someone here who knows how to handle things.”
At this, protests burst out from Brent and Graham alike.
Carol, however, would hear none of it. “This is no time to argue, boys.” She raised her hand to silence them. “Just stay put and we’ll call you if anything changes.” With that, she joined Coco and Mayor Pickering in hotfooting it after the pooch at large.
Watching them go, Graham cursed under his breath. Great. As if this day wasn’t bad enough already, now he was stuck out here alone with Brent.
That lousy mutt Oscar was really starting to get on his nerves.
“This is exactly why I don’t keep pets,” he retorted.
Brent let loose a scoff. “Not an animal person, eh? Shocker.”
Graham felt his hackles raise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Let’s see.” Brent started counting off on his fingers. “Married to his work, hopelessly absorbed in himself, no sense of loyalty to speak of.” That last one came out with particular vitriol.
“Maybe we should just get back to this snowman,” Graham replied. “Give ourselves something to do while we wait.”
The comment drew a shrug. “I suppose it beats standing around freezing our nuts off.” He gestured toward Graham’s ball of snow. “Want some help with that?”
Graham turned up his nose, defensive. “I can manage myself, thank you.” He set to work in a renewed attempt at rolling the snowball forward.
The blasted thing didn’t budge an inch.
“Maybe just a boost to get it going.”
And though he hated to admit it, he couldn’t help but feel a tingle at the grin Brent let slip at him then.