Chapter 10 #2
Either at how terribly Mariah Carey was being emulated or at Laura’s insistent attempts to interest him when he was clearly not interested in her. It was hard to say. Rocco was going to vote both.
“Come on, you’re making a fool of yourself.” Steve tried to grab the microphone again, and his voice had gotten hard. Unrelenting. Nothing like the smooth, charming facade he normally wore.
“Oh shit,” Taylor murmured. “I should—”
“Yes,” Rocco said. “Go up there. Now.”
The mayor also had the same idea, because she was climbing back on the stage, watching with trepidation as Steve tried to wrestle the microphone out of his wife’s hands.
She segued into an off-key, off-melody version of Carly Simon’s, “You’re So Vain,” which was a transition that Rocco hadn’t seen coming, but one he could at least get behind.
“Mrs. Mills,” the mayor said loudly, “it’s time to stop. You shouldn’t even be up yet. The signup is first come, first serve, and you just showed up.” She glared at the guy running the karaoke machine, and sure enough, he looked guilty.
Had Steve slipped him some money to make sure his wife went first? Or had she done that?
It was hard to say, but the whole thing was playing out publicly, and in a town like Christmas Falls, where the gossip mill was incredibly active, the retellings of this evening were going to spread like wildfire.
Rocco watched as Taylor approached the stage. The mayor leaned down and whispered something in his ear. He nodded.
Finally, Steve successfully yanked the microphone from his wife and said into it, apparently unaware of how microphones worked, “Goddamn it, you made us look bad.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You do that well enough on your own.”
“I was doing just fine without your ‘assistance,’” he retorted.
“Let me give you both some assistance,” Taylor said, intervening by stepping between them and neatly plucking the microphone from Steve’s hand. “You’re both done. Time to get off the stage.”
Steve made a face, turning him ugly, and he lunged for the microphone, but Taylor just stared at him. Not engaging, but clearly not permitting him to continue. It was a perfect line to walk, and there were a few cheers from the audience.
“Time to go,” Mona repeated firmly.
“We should get all the turns if we want them,” Steve retorted. “We’re practically Christmas Falls royalty!”
Mona shot him a venomous stare. “There is no such thing as Christmas Falls royalty. That’s what you don’t get, Steve. That’s not what this town is. It’s not what it’s ever been. We don’t stand for that kind of superior attitude here, even if your family’s lived here forever.”
Taylor looked between the mayor and Steve. “Ma’am,” he said, so polite, so perfectly Midwestern that Rocco wanted to cry with it, “should I take out the trash?”
Mona chuckled. “Yes, please. Let’s go.”
Wrapping a hand around Steve’s arm, Taylor tugged him off the stage, as Mona escorted Laura off.
“And uh, now up,” the karaoke guy said, stammering, his voice nearly drowned out by the cat calls and the applause, “is Mrs. Lil singing ‘Rocking Around the Christmas Tree.’”
Mrs. Lil took the stage to an absolute roar of approval, and a moment later, Taylor slid back into the booth next to Rocco, wearing a shit-eating grin and a lightness around him that Rocco loved to see.
“Well,” Taylor said, “I guess that’s that.”
Rocco reached over and gave his arm a squeeze. “You were brilliant, baby.”
“Was I?”
“You know you were. You just let him have enough rope to hang himself. And Mrs. Gucci Boots, too.”
“I guess we did,” Taylor said, but his smile said it all. By tomorrow, this story would be on everyone’s lips and Rocco would be surprised if the council even considered Steve Mills’ application, once the truth of his feelings came out.
“She’s actually pretty good,” Rocco said a moment later, listening to Mrs. Lil in the background. “And here I thought she wasn’t going to actually participate. She told me we were going to listen as everyone made fools of themselves.”
“She always sings this and only this,” Taylor said. “And Mrs. Lil is incapable of making a fool of herself.”
Rocco smiled, nodding. He understood it now. She hadn’t included herself in that assessment because she knew she had the pipes to sing this song.
Taylor lifted his beer and tapped it against Rocco’s glass. “Cheers to a great evening in Christmas Falls,” he said.
Unlike last Saturday’s run-in with Steve Mills and his wife, this Saturday night, Taylor was in a great mood by the time they exited Frosty’s.
He’d been flirty and charming all evening, touching Rocco as much as he could, and Rocco hoped, even though he knew the danger in it, that maybe this Saturday night, things might end differently.
Maybe Taylor would kiss him again and this time not regret it.
Or maybe . . .as they walked out the front door of Frosty’s, Rocco toyed with the idea of being the one to initiate, even though Taylor hadn’t actually said a word about a redo.
But he had to be thinking it, didn’t he? Because Rocco sure was.
It felt like he’d barely stopped thinking about it, during the last week.
“Well, uh, I guess I should walk you home,” Taylor said.
“But I’m not tired,” Rocco said flirtatiously, letting his body sway a little closer to Taylor’s. And sure enough, his breath caught and his pupils dilated.
Yes, he definitely wanted Rocco.
The only question was, did he want to want him? Rocco didn’t want to go through this again only to end up back in the same place.
His heart couldn’t take it.
“Me either, honestly,” Taylor said, shoving his hands into his pockets like doing that might keep him from reaching for Rocco.
“I think it’s come time in our dating relationship for you to show me your house,” Rocco said, giving Taylor that Moretti look, the one that always guaranteed they’d ensnare whoever was on the receiving end.
He didn’t add and your bed, but he knew they were both thinking it.
Taylor looked appropriately blown away by it. “Uh, yeah? You think?”
“A good night calls for one last drink, don’t you think?” Rocco asked persuasively.
Shooting him a questioning look, Taylor just nodded. “It’s this way.”
They walked down Dasher Street in silence. It was late and the only sound was the crunch of the snow underneath their boots.
Rocco was wondering if he’d overstepped his bounds when suddenly Taylor stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
Just fucking stopped. Right there.
Rocco turned, suddenly worried that he had pushed him too hard. He hadn’t meant to, really, he just wanted the guy so much it was hard to practice much restraint.
“Everything okay?” Rocco asked, worried at what Taylor’s answer was going to be.
But Taylor didn’t say anything, just lifted his cold fingers to Rocco’s face and traced the lines of it, his touch soft but intent. “I can’t do this,” he said.
Rocco felt his heart crack. He swore he fucking heard it. He couldn’t say anything. He never struggled with words but he had nothing to say. It was ironic how he’d thought last Saturday was bad enough, but this was so much worse.
But then Taylor kept going. “I can’t keep pretending, I don’t even want to keep pretending,” he continued and before Rocco could respond, he shocked him by kissing him.
Taylor’s mouth was firm and confident and God, so real. Rocco groaned and kissed him back just as fiercely, and they stumbled a bit as Rocco plastered his body against Taylor’s. Wanting his warmth, but more like needing it.
Taylor pulled away but it wasn’t like last time. It wasn’t at all. He was happy, practically glowing with it, and he said, “You—”
But that was all Rocco let him get out of his mouth before he was kissing him again, needier this time, pouring everything he’d felt over the last week, over the last few weeks, into the kiss.
Taylor’s hands reached under the hem of his coat and pressed into his sweater, as hungry and needy as Rocco felt.
“You,” Taylor gasped again, pulling away.
Rocco was a little disappointed, but only in the not kissing. He wasn’t even close to disappointed at Taylor’s expression, which was a heady combination of awe and arousal.
“Me,” Rocco said, pressing his body fully against Taylor and feeling all his arousal.
“I just . . .I don’t know what to do with you,” Taylor said, but he sounded like he felt the exact opposite.
His cock, hard and hot, pressing into Rocco’s thigh, said the exact opposite.
“Yeah, you do,” Rocco teased. He leaned in and brushed a gentle kiss against Taylor’s mouth. “You want to take me home to your place, undress me, and stop fighting this thing between us.”
Taylor looked surprised. In fact looked poleaxed.
“You can’t be surprised that I want to get you naked,” Rocco said. “Or that you want to get me naked.”
“No,” Taylor said, chuckling. “I’m shocked that you’d be willing to let me, after I was such an ass last week.”
“It’s ’cause you’re cute,” Rocco said playfully. And hot. And sweet. And kind. And so charming it’s a freaking miracle I didn’t goat cheese out of this the first time you touched me.
Taylor grinned. “Just cute?”
“Come on, hot stuff, take me home,” Rocco said.
“I can do that,” Taylor said. Leaned down and gave him one last searing kiss.
When they broke apart, breathless, Rocco couldn’t help but say, “Please tell me your house is close.”
“Really close,” Taylor promised.
It turned out he was right; Taylor led them down Dasher Street, stopping at a quaint little blue bungalow trimmed in red and white lights.
“This is your house?” Rocco asked as Taylor unlocked the door.
“No, I’m gonna fuck you in a stranger’s house,” Taylor joked and then hesitated, the door shutting behind them. “But uh, we don’t have to—”
“Shut up, just shut up,” Rocco said and pressed him against the door, kissing him hard. For a second, it was easy to get lost in it. To want to start and never, ever stop.