A Guy for Christmas Page 2

  “Ouch!” Ryan glared at him for a second but then got with the program. “Sure, Dad.”

  He smiled. “You’re good boys.” Then he withdrew.

  “Come on then.” Robin feigned reluctance. He loved romantic movies, not that he’d ever admit as much to any of his family. I guess Mom and I are more alike than I’d thought.

  Ryan nudged Robin as they left the bedroom. “It’s not so bad. Think of it as research. If you’re gonna hook yourself a guy, you’ll need all the help you can get.”

  Robin said nothing. He’d take a little romance if it came his way. Hell, he’d take a lot of romance if it came to that. Except what were the chances on finding a gay guy in Lake Placid, who was also a hopeless romantic at heart, and who would think Robin hung the moon?

  Pretty fucking slim.

  Then he remembered. Hey, it’s Christmas. Miracles do happen, right?

  Sure they did—in a Hallmark movie about straight people.

  Chapter Two

  “I think this is what you had in mind,” Dean Quentin said as he handed a tall glass to his friend Suze. “Well, you said on the phone you needed a lot of booze.” The five friends were in Dean’s living room, soft piano music playing in the background. That was Kris’s choice. Next time, it would be Kate’s turn to pick the music, and with her taste, it could be anything from Beethoven to Rhianna.

  A fire burned in the fireplace, adding the sound of crackling logs to the music, the flames reflecting on the varnished hardwood floor. Kris and Suze were on the small sofa, Kate was on the large one, and Diane was seated in Dean’s huge armchair, looking extremely mellowed out, a cocktail glass in her hand. Dean’s ragdoll kitty, Lady Marmalade—Lady for short—was curled up in Diane’s lap, her eyes closed, paws tucked under her chest.

  Kate had the newest occupant next to her on a cushion. Thankfully, the kitten had worn himself out that afternoon, but Dean suspected he had one more burst of frenetic activity left in him before the evening drew to a close.

  Suze snorted. “You’d need a lot of booze too if you’d had to put up with my family for a whole day. Thank God Thanksgiving is only once a year.” She sniffed the contents of the glass, then fanned herself. “Goddamn, how much alcohol is in that? You could get drunk by breathing in the smell alone.”

  “It’s a Long Island iced tea.” Dean grinned. “They could’ve invented it for you.” Suze was the one who could drink them all under the table, and still appear sober. “Sorry about your Thanksgiving.” He’d spent the day alone. His parents didn’t expect him to travel to Indiana, and they’d had a houseful without him by the sound of it. His brother, and his two sisters and their respective partners had gone there. Dean would only have been one more person to find a bed for.

  “There ought to be a law about that, you know,” Suze groused. “I mean, I’m twenty-eight, for Christ’s sake. Isn’t there a cut-off point when you don’t have to go home for Thanksgiving? You can simply give an excuse? Like, hello, I have a life?” She glanced over to where Dean stood by the cabinet that served as his bar. “You didn’t have to go home, right? You’re what, thirty-two? So is that it? I have to get to thirty before I get a pass for Thanksgiving? Besides, I moved out years ago when I went to college.”

  “And speaking of which… did your parents pay your way through college?” Diane inquired. Dean recognized that tone. Suze’s remarks had clearly touched a nerve. Diane had worked damn hard to pay for her education; her parents were the proverbial dirt-poor.

  “Sure. But that’s their job, right?”

  Four heads jerked in her direction. Dean shook his head. “Nice attitude.”

  Kris gave Suze a hard stare. “They love you, don’t they? At least they invited you. Be thankful.”

  That shut her up for the moment. They all knew Kris’s parents had disowned him when he came out. Twenty-one years has passed since then, and now and again it was obvious the event still pained Kris.

  Suze’s expression softened. “I’m sorry. I’m being a bitch, aren’t I?”

  Four voices replied in a synchronized chorus of “yes.”

  She widened her eyes. “Wow. Really feeling the love here, guys.” She gave Kris an apologetic glance. “I know I have a totally shitty relationship sometimes with my parents, but you’re right, they do love me. And I have it way better than some people.”

  “Yes, you do. But Thanksgiving tends to bring out the worst in families.” Kris patted her arm. “It’s okay, girl. We still love you.” He settled back to drink his martini.

  “Have I mentioned how much I’m loving our post-Thanksgiving soiree?” Kate sipped her drink. “All the chaos and rush, parents, family, and now this—a civilized, relaxed evening of munchies, booze, and chat.” She glanced at the sleeping kitten beside her. “And cats.”

  “I didn’t see you digging into the munchies all that much,” Dean observed.

  Kate groaned. “I ate too much the last few days, so I’m being good. Because who wants to see a fat gym teacher?” She patted her belly.

  Dean had to laugh. “You’re one of these really annoying people who can eat enough to choke a pig, and still look awesome. Me, on the other hand? I so much as get a whiff of a donut and a few seconds later it’s applying itself to my hips. My stomach. My ass.”

  “I like guys who are a little chunky,” Kris murmured. Then he gazed at Dean in horror. “Not that you’re chunky, you understand. Not in the slightest. I mean—”

  “Kris?” Diane’s eyes sparkled. “Quit digging that hole.”

  Laughter rippled around the room.

  “And let’s be honest, Dean. That’s a mighty fine ass you have there,” Suze added. When everyone stared at her, she frowned. “What? Don’t give me that ‘Oh Suze’ look because you’re all thinking it too.”

  “Maybe, but we have more tact than to say it,” Kate said with a glare. “Especially when he’s sitting right there.” Her lips twitched. “Wait until he’s left the room so we can talk about him like we do everyone else.”

  Dean gaped at them. “So what you’re saying is, you’ve all been ogling my ass?”

  The three women gazed at him, all biting back smiles. Then Kate put her hand to her chest. “Aw, he didn’t notice. How cute is that?”

  “Damn, we’re good.” Suze grinned as she high-fived Kate. “And look at him blush.”

  “Girls.” That one word from Diane was enough to have them clearing their throats. “You keep that up, and Dean won’t invite us anymore.”

  Kate gasped. “Nooo. We need our Sunday night soirees.” She raised her glass to the group. “To Dean, who opens up his home once a month to his favorite fag hags.” Diane and Suze joined her in the toast.

  Dean glowered at Kate. “How many times do I have to say this? Will you please not refer to yourselves like that?” Kate and Suze had been doing it since he joined the staff at the high school four years ago. Then he’d introduced them to Diane, and Dean had swiftly found himself with a circle of intimate female friends who loved meeting up for drinks and gossip. He saw Suze and Kate every day, of course, but in the staffroom they toned down their banter, which was no bad thing. Some of the older teachers looked as if they were permanently sucking on lemons, and Dean didn’t think they’d appreciate his little posse’s sense of humor.

  Kris was a writer Dean had met online on a gay men’s forum, only to be astounded to discover they lived in the same village. The first time Dean had invited him over for drinks with the girls, it became obvious he belonged there.

  Thank God for the third Sunday of every month. Not that they stuck to that. Impromptu meetings occurred when the need arose, at least twice in each semester.

  “Fag hags,” Kris muttered. “You’d better not be including me in that category.” He adjusted his scarlet bow tie a fraction.

  Kate laughed. “Sweetie, you’re in a category all of your own, like Dean here.”

  “And Dean, you know we all adore you because you’re fabulous.” Suze raised her glass to D
ean. “To Dean’s fabulousness.” She glanced at Diane’s lap. “And his cats.”

  Dean was certain he wasn’t remotely fabulous, but he let it slide.

  Kris peered across the room at the kitten. “Does it have a name yet?”

  Dean brought his hand to his chest in a gasp of mock horror. “It?” The sight of Kate, Suze and Diane glaring at Kris amused him no end. It was easy to spot the cat people in the room. Now that everyone had a drink, Dean picked up his own Long Island iced tea and joined Kate on the large sofa. “I’ve narrowed it down to three. I was going to ask you to help me choose.”

  “Let’s hear them.” Kate gazed adoringly at the little bundle of Bengal kitty. “He looks so cute.”

  Dean snorted. “You wouldn’t have said that if you’d caught him trying to climb your drapes.”

  “Ooh, an adventurous kitty.” Suze put down her drink, got up off the sofa and went over to where Kate sat. “He is adorable though.” She knelt on the floor, tracing the line of his ears with a finger. The kitten twitched, but didn’t awaken.

  “What are the options?” Diane stroked Lady, who half-opened her eyes, glanced around the room, then closed them again.

  “Mischief, Loki, and Tigger,” Dean announced.

  “I sense a theme with the first two,” Kris declared. “You’ll give it—him—a complex.”

  “He looks like a Tigger,” Kate mused.

  “Tigger gets my vote too,” Diane said.

  “And mine.” Suze stroked the kitten gently. “Does Lady get along with him?”

  Dean laughed. “She knows who’s senior kitty around here. I don’t think he’ll ruffle her fur much.” He hadn’t planned on getting another cat, until a friend had sent him the photo of the Bengal.

  His heart had been lost the second Dean laid eyes on the little ball of stripes and spots, with those cute ears and gorgeous blue eyes. Then the kitten had sealed the deal by trying to climb the bars of its enclosure to get to Dean, yowling the whole time and not taking those blue eyes off him for an instant.

  Kate cleared her throat. “Gang? I think it’s time.” She gave Diane a meaningful stare.

  Diane nodded. “Dean? We need to talk.” Suze and Kris nodded too.

  Dean arched his eyebrows. “Should I be concerned here? Because this feels like you’re all staging an intervention.”

  “That’s because we are,” Diane confirmed. “They’ve let me be spokesperson because—”

  “She’s the oldest one of us, and it sounds better coming from her,” Suze interjected.

  Diane narrowed her gaze. “Enough with the ageist remarks, thank you. Kris is only lagging behind me by one year, I’ll have you know. I was going to say, I’m spokesperson because I have more… experience in these matters.”

  “What matters?” Dean’s throat tightened. What in the hell?

  “Well, seeing as we’re discussing Tigger here…” She met Dean’s gaze. “There’s a real danger that if we don’t put a stop to this, you’re going to turn into a crazy cat lady. It was okay when it was just Lady, but then you went and got another.”

  “So we’re on a mission,” Suze added.

  “We’re going to find you a man,” Kate declared.

  Dean blinked. “A man…” Give me strength.

  The three women nodded.

  Kris coughed. “Can I say something here? First of all, if Dean wants twenty cats, that’s his business. Second, maybe Dean is happy as he is.” He gave the women a hard stare. “Not every guy wants a partner, you know. Some of us are perfectly happy being bachelors.”

  Diane gave him a flinty look. “Traitor. You weren’t saying all this last night when we discussed it.”

  “A girl can change her mind, all right?” Kris returned her stare. “So I changed it. Bite me.”

  “Are you?” Kate demanded of Dean. “Happy, I mean.”

  “I hate to burst this bubble, but I like my life. I get to live here, I have a house that finally feels like a home, I have my skiing, canoeing, ice skating…” Dean was content. Happy though? Meh.

  “But what about your love life?” Diane asked. “You’ve been coming to my pet store ever since you moved here, and I don’t think you’ve had a boyfriend in all that time.”

  “Okay, so I don’t have a boyfriend. That doesn’t mean I go… without, if you get my meaning.” The last four winters had provided plenty of interesting tourists who hadn’t minded helping him keep warm at night. Dean had only to don his ski gear for some really cute gay guy to approach him. And as for when he went out on the lake… “I like to keep things casual, that’s all.”

  In Lake Placid, there was nothing else to do but keep it casual.

  Dean took a drink. “I suppose I should be grateful you’re not taking a leaf out of my mom’s book, and suggesting Kris and I get together.”

  Kris almost choked. “Say what?” He wiped his lips, then glared at Dean. “Give a guy some notice before you come out with stuff like that.”

  Kate gaped at Dean. “But… you and Kris… you’re not remotely suited.” She pointed at Kris. “Dog person.” Then at Dean. “Cat person. Not to mention… seriously?”

  Dean gave a wry chuckle. “As soon as my mom learned one of my friends was gay, she instantly assumed—like a lot of straight people, I should add—that meant we were destined to date, marry, and live happily ever after.”

  Kris erupted into a peal of laughter. “Dean, honey, I love you, but… hell no.” The others joined in.

  Tigger chose that moment to wake up. He stretched, then proceeded to climb over Kate’s legs, hooking tiny claws into her jeans as he pulled himself higher until he was at her chin. He butted his head under it, and Kate was a goner.

  “Oh my God, he’s gorgeous.” She petted him, stroking his soft fur.

  “Are you telling me you don’t want a little romance in your life?” Diane studied Dean, the firelight catching in her dark eyes.

  Dean considered the question. “If a little romance found its way into my life, I wouldn’t complain.” He’d had a couple of short-term relationships in Chicago when he was a substitute teacher, but nothing serious. Ever since the move to Lake Placid, he’d had no time for a relationship. He’d found the house, spent a few years getting it exactly how he wanted it, settled into his job…

  Maybe it was time to think about romance.

  Kate’s eyes gleamed. “We are on the case.”

  Dean groaned. “No. No. You are not going to find me a guy, okay?”

  “Don’t you trust our judgment?” Suze demanded.

  Dean merely snorted. “Just leave it up to fate, all right?” He was a firm believer in fate. If there was someone out there who was perfect for him, then nothing would keep them apart. And in the meantime, the skiing season was getting underway, so while he was waiting for Mr. Perfect, Dean wouldn’t be lonely.

  Whoever he is, he doesn’t live here. Dean figured he’d met every available guy in the village. He was betting money on a stranger moving into town. As to what this fictional stranger looked like, Dean wasn’t picky.

  Though whoever was out there had better like cats, because Dean’s buddy at the animal shelter had called to say he’d found another kitty that was perfect for Dean.

  Oh God, I really am turning into a crazy cat lady.

  What were the chances of Santa getting off his fat ass and sending a cute, sexy, cat-loving guy Dean’s way? Someone else who wanted a little romance in his life? Someone who wouldn’t turn up his nose at the idea of a night on Dean’s couch, cuddled up together while they watched a movie?

  Practically non-existent.

  Christmas was almost upon them, but he was too long in the tooth to believe in miracles.

  Chapter Three

  Robin put down his sandpaper at the sound of his dad’s voice. If Dad needed Robin, he’d holler. After a moment, Robin resumed his rubdown of the wood, removing its rough edges until it was smooth as glass. From what he could glean, Dad had a customer, but as soon as he hear
d the other participant, Robin stilled. I know that voice. He strained to listen, trying to place it. When the door opened Robin quickly went back to his task.

  “Well, come on through and take a look.”

  Robin glanced up with interest, and then froze when in walked Mr. Quentin, the art and drama teacher from his high school. The very cool and sexy as fuck Mr. Quentin. It was a weird feeling seeing him out of his usual environment. Now that he thought about it, Robin hadn’t laid eyes on Mr. Quentin since graduation in June.

  Mr. Quentin’s eyes lit up. “Well, if it isn’t my best ever set-builder.”

  Robin knew he was flushed. Tingling swept up the back of his neck and across his face.

  Dad gazed at Mr. Quentin in puzzlement for a moment, then widened his eyes. “Of course. You teach at the high school. Was Robin one of your students? I can’t remember.”

  “No, he wasn’t, but I did a production of Dracula last year, and Robin helped build this really spooky set. It was amazing.” Mr. Quentin inclined his head toward Robin. “Your son is very talented.”

  “We think so too.” Dad’s eyes lit up. “So you’re the one to blame for all the time he spent after school.”

  Mr. Quentin held up his hands. “Hey, he volunteered.”

  Dad chuckled. “I’m kidding. And it was a fantastic production. I remember when I was in high school. I was in a musical, and I know how much work goes into pulling it all together.”

  Robin gaped. “You sing? I didn’t know that.”

  Dad coughed. “The less said about my singing skills, the better. I was there to make up the numbers, I think.”

  “I did teach Ryan though,” Mr. Quentin added. “He took drama with me.”

  Dad bit his lip. “I’ll bet that was a very interesting class.” The phone rang in the outer office, and he raised his eyes heavenward. “Damn, I need to get that. I’m so sorry, but I’m been expecting a call, and we’re finishing shortly for the day.”