Chapter 29
Silent, Graham climbed the basement stairs in the darkness. When was the last time he’d stooped to sneaking a midnight snack? Not counting the kind that wore jockstraps, of course.
His feet tread carefully up the steps, doing everything in his power to avoid awaking Coco or his mother. He almost had to laugh at himself. Tiptoeing around the house after dark—if this didn’t feel just like high school again…
No matter how big and successful he’d gotten in LA, now that he’d finally come home for Christmas, it was like no time had passed at all.
Especially when it came to reuniting with Brent.
He heaved a disgruntled sigh. How could he have let his old high school crush get so inside his head? It had been years since the last time Brent had crossed his mind. But now that Graham had returned to Mistletoe Grove, the flame had rekindled stronger than ever.
And this time, it wasn’t just one-sided. After letting Graham slip away once, clearly Mistletoe Grove’s resident dreamboat did not intend on making the mistake of hiding his feelings again.
But if you asked Graham, finally admitting those feelings was bound to be an even bigger mistake.
His mind slipped back to Brent’s apartment, to the passionate scene he’d left just a few short hours ago.
Falling for you. The words, soft and tender, had been like music coming out of Brent’s mouth. Never had Graham heard something that sounded so beautiful.
Or, for that matter, something that scared him so inextricably shitless.
The real bitch of it all was that he couldn’t even pretend he didn’t return Brent’s feelings.
He had, after all, been the first to start getting mushy.
Baby, that feels amazing? Just the thought of those words on his lips made him want to toss his Christmas cookies.
How could he have let his guard down like that?
Oh boy, Graham, he thought to himself. Have you got it bad or what?
But honestly, how could he not? Brent Danvers was a certified ten-out-of-ten. For Christ’s sake, the guy had the body of a god and he made gourmet hot cocoa like some hunk in a Hallmark movie—talk about a catch.
And Jesus Christ, the sex. It was like their bodies had been made for each other.
He felt his temperature rise as the memory of their lust-fueled encounter replayed in his mind’s eye.
Their two masculine forms, joined together as one.
Graham didn’t know how Brent had done it, but it was as if he’d sensed Graham’s every urge, every carnal desire, before even Graham himself had realized it.
He sure could get used to lovemaking like that.
Suddenly, the blood in his veins froze. Lovemaking? Was that what they were doing?
He felt himself begin to spiral. Oh, no. This was not good. Not good at all.
Resetting, he took a centering breath. What he and Brent had going was just a casual, noncommittal fling. Two dudes blowing off some pent-up holiday steam.
Although, in this case, the blowing had been decidedly literal.
Distraught, he knit his brow. Who are you kidding, Graham? You know a simple hookup when you see one. Hell, in LA, getting your guts rearranged by a stranger was practically how gays said hello.
He could try to deny it, but deep down he knew better. Whatever was happening between Brent and himself, it was not just a simple holiday hookup.
He paused his ascent up the stairs. What if—and yes, he realized this was crazy—but what if he decided to see where things went? Clearly, there was a connection between Brent and himself. A connection like Graham hadn’t felt in quite some time. Maybe not ever.
He certainly wasn’t the only one to notice it. Could Coco have actually been on to something with her matchmaker antics? She definitely seemed convinced that he and Brent belonged together. Perhaps her efforts to set them up weren’t so crazy, after all.
His temporary insanity, though, quickly subsided.
What are you thinking, Graham? You’re not really taking relationship cues from Coco?
You and Brent would never work out. You live on opposite ends of the country!
And even if you weren’t so far away, you aren’t even out to anyone here in Mistletoe Grove.
How would you even begin to explain this to your mother?
Shaking his head clear, he inhaled a cleansing breath.
Graham, just keep your eyes on the prize.
That promotion you’ve been waiting for has never been closer.
Don’t you dare let all your hard work go to waste now.
You’ve just got to keep up this charade with Coco—this routine that you’re just another normal, heterosexual couple—until Christmas Day, and then it’s straight back to LA—and back to real life, thank god.
He had his plan. All he had to do was stick to it.
With renewed conviction, he resumed his trek up to the kitchen. There had better be some primo Christmas treats up there. His mental stability now officially depended on it.
Unfortunately, his resolve was not destined to last. No sooner had Graham arrived upstairs than he laid eyes on a scene that only compounded his worries.
“Coco?” he sputtered as he pulled a double take. “What are you doing up?”
She regarded him like it should have been obvious. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m building a gingerbread house, Graham.” She gestured to the in-progress structure on the counter.
Graham shook his head in spite of himself. “I can see that. But in the middle of the night?”
Her face tensed in concentration as she squeezed a ribbon of icing onto the house. “Well, I’d prefer to be asleep right now, but someone woke me up while sneaking in past curfew.”
The remark prompted an embarrassed wince from Graham. “Oh…sorry about that.” His brow creased in thought. “Say, you don’t think my mother heard, do you?”
Exasperated, she shot him an eye roll. “If she had heard, do you really think she would have passed up the opportunity to grill you on the spot?”
That earned a chuckle. “Fair point.”
Setting the icing on the counter, Coco curled her lips in a grin. “So…how was it?”
Now it was Graham rolling his eyes. “I don’t know what you could be talking about.”
“Don’t play coy with me. You and I both know you’re a terrible liar.” She stroked her chin, contemplating. “Which, if you ask me, is pretty ironic being that you’re a spin doctor and all.”
Reluctant, Graham threw up his hands in surrender. “OK, you got me, all right? Yes, I was out with Brent, Sherlock.”
Coco released a delighted squeal. “I just knew there was love in the air!”
An irritated groan followed from Graham. “Well, don’t hold your breath, toots. ’Cause whatever you think you’re smelling, I promise you it isn’t love.”
Her lips pursed in a pout. “Don’t tell me you’re still pretending you don’t have a major boner for that guy.”
“Coco!”
She shrugged, feigning innocence. “What? It’s true, isn’t it?”
Another vision of Brent’s perfect, toned flesh flashed in Graham’s imagination before he quickly shook it away.
“We’ve been through this before, Coco. I’m not getting involved with Brent when we’re only sticking around for the holiday.
And let me remind you, if we’re to have any hope of actually pulling off this charade and keeping us both out of hot water, then we have to stick to the plan.
” He punctuated the statement with a nod.
“You and your plans,” Coco retorted. “When will you finally get your head out of the snowbank and realize you two are perfect for each other?”
Graham felt his cheeks flash hot as yet another mental image, this one of Brent and himself naked together, seized his imagination.
Until, that is, it promptly disappeared as a catastrophe in the making came to life before his very eyes.
“Coco!” he blurted, quickly quieting his voice so as not to wake his mother. “I thought I told you no drinking on this trip.”
She lowered the mug she’d begun to raise to her lips just then. “Relax, Mr. Goody Two-Shoes. You won’t find a drop of the devil’s alcohol in here.”
Suspicious, Graham took the mug and held it under his nose. “It’s—”
“Brent’s hot cocoa,” Coco finished, making no attempt to hide the smug look on her face.
Graham returned the mug reluctantly. “How much of this stuff have you had on this trip?”
She took a hearty sip. “I’m telling you, Graham. Whatever Brent’s secret is, the guy is a magician. He seriously knows what he’s doing.”
In more ways than one, supplied a voice inside Graham’s head.
The scrape of the mug sliding across the counter jarred yet another sinful thought from his mind.
“Just try a sip,” Coco pleaded. “I’m telling you, Graham. You don’t know what you’re missing.”
He lowered his gaze to the hot cocoa now positioned underneath him. One little taste wouldn’t hurt, would it? He had, after all, come up here for a midnight snack.
“Oh, all right,” he relented, bringing the mug to his lips. “If it’ll finally get you off my back about this.” He took a tentative slurp.
And just like that, his features went dumbfounded as his taste buds registered the most rich, decadent flavors he’d ever known to exist.
He did a double take at the mug in his hand. “That’s—”
“Not bad, eh?” A self-satisfied glimmer lit up Coco’s eyes.
Graham went in for another sip. “What does he put in this stuff?”
Greedy, Coco snatched back the mug. “Easy, mister. I said you could have a sip.”
Graham raised his hands in surrender. Now it made sense why Coco was so hooked. Brent’s hot cocoa was euphoric.
The glow inside him dimmed as a realization struck him. Coco would be crushed to learn the news about The Cozy Mug. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but you’d best enjoy Brent’s cocoa while you can. Apparently, he’s closing up shop come New Year’s.”
A crestfallen wave washed over Coco’s face. “What? No!”
Graham nodded in confirmation. “It’s just like at the thrift store. Everywhere in town is having a tough time since the holiday tourist season dried up.”
“That’s terrible,” Coco replied. Her brows furrowed in thought. “Isn’t there something you could do, though? You’re a big, fancy PR man. Surely, you could drum up some publicity to bring the crowds back.”
He considered her words carefully. It was an awful shame what was happening to the local small businesses. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Not on his own, anyway. Reviving Mistletoe Grove as America’s home of Christmas would take a big-time miracle.
His gaze shifted back to Coco then.
Or perhaps, a big-time star.