100 Days To Christmas (2 page)

Monday, December 24

Visit day, 1 day to Christmas

Steve stood at the terminal gate, pulling on the collar of his long jacket nervously. He'd taken hours this morning to get his hair to cooperate just so and had shaved carefully to ensure no unsightly nicks would show on his fair skin.

He was desperate to make a good first impression and had spent the better part of the week trying to decide what he should wear when he picked Jackson up at the airport. After long deliberation, he'd settled on his best suit. Actually it was the only one that fit him of the two suits that he owned, but that was neither here nor there. The shirt was also carefully and painstakingly selected: green to highlight his emerald eyes and add some color to the dark charcoal suit. Typically Irish, Steve had the pale skin and thick auburn, almost red, hair that curled tightly when it was damp and he knew that the green would flatter his features.

Despite his best efforts and the care Steve took, he'd still managed to spill coffee on his trench coat as he drove through traffic at the airport. The stain was mostly hidden by the dark material, but the napkin he'd used to blot it had left little white paper pieces all over his lapel. So much for the neat and tidy first impression Steve was trying to make.

It was crazy at the airport today. Everyone was there to pick up their loved ones, just like Steve was.

Steve couldn't help grinning at the thought. As stupid as it was, considering this was actually their first meeting, Steve was well and truly in love with Jackson. How could he not be? Jackson was everything he'd always dreamed of in a partner. The only drawback was that Jackson lived a thousand miles away. As much as he would love to be closer to Jackson, he couldn't move, could he? San Diego was where his great-grandparents had opened up the shop that had been in the family for three generations and he loved it dearly. But maybe he could love Jackson more?

"Steve!" Steve started at the shout drawing him out of his musings. He looked up and there was Jackson, waving enthusiastically at him.

Steve could feel his grin growing to fantastic proportions as he pushed through the crowd to the man still waving at him. Steve stopped dead, unable to continue as he finally came face-to-face with the man he'd been talking to every week for over a year.

"Hi," Steve whispered, hardly able to speak through the excitement crushing his chest.

"Hi, yourself." Jackson gave a wicked grin.

Steve moved forward, ready to devour Jackson in a kiss so carnal, the man's toes would curl, but Jackson moved at the same time, pulling Steve into a momentous hug. Steve was so surprised, he didn't know what to do. He wanted to kiss Jackson, desperately, but the man was holding him so tight, Steve couldn't move.

"You feel so good," Jackson murmured against Steve's ear. Steve sighed, his body relaxing and melting against Jackson's solid strength and heat. God, the man was tall. So much taller than Steve had imagined, that he fit perfectly tucked under Jackson's chin and against the larger body. The man seemed to bend to mold himself around Steve and Steve relished the feeling.

Finally. Jackson was finally here, touching Steve. It was a dream come true and all other thoughts fled from Steve's mind as the two men clung to each other right there in the press of bodies surrounding them.

"Hmm, much as I'd love to stand here all day holding you, I think we'd better get going before we get run over by this mob." Jackson chuckled.

The feel of Jackson's breath as that deep, husky laugh caressed his skin sent shivers through Steve's body and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

All too soon Jackson pulled away.

"What?" Steve said, after a moment. He had been enjoying Jackson’s touch too much and the sudden loss of that warm body was more of a disappointment than it should have been.

Jackson laughed again. "Come on, Steve, let's get out of here."

Jackson stepped to the side to grab the bag he’d dropped, but draped an arm protectively around Steve's shoulders as he steered Steve through the airport to the exit. Jackson's larger frame seemed ideal for pushing his way through the holiday crowd and it didn't take them long to get to the exit.

"Which way?" Jackson stopped as he buttoned up his coat in the chilly winter air.

"Oh," Steve started, finally shaking off the stupor that seeing Jackson in the flesh seemed to engender. "This way." Steve sheepishly smiled as he grabbed Jackson's carry-on bag while Jackson took his small suitcase and followed Steve to the car.

It was much too crowded and the two men were too busy avoiding getting run over by all the crazy drivers to speak. It took Steve a minute to remember where he'd parked the car -- and he'd been so careful and even written down the location so he could find it easier. But as he dug through his pockets, Steve realized he must have dropped the note and so continued slowly through the lot, looking for his little blue Toyota.

"There it is," Steve cried happily, pointing one row over and about ten cars up. "I was pretty close," he mumbled.

Jackson grinned good-naturedly. "No worries, we're in no rush. We've got ten whole days. We can waste a few minutes in a parking lot without too much trouble."

Steve just laughed and shook his head. He really did try to make a good impression.

They stowed the luggage in Steve's trunk and were silent as Steve fought the traffic to get out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

Steve let out a sigh of relief as he turned onto the express way.

"Finally." He smiled, huffing out another breath as he merged into traffic. "How was your flight?"

"Good. Slept for most of the trip. Had a last-minute change to the case so I had to pull an all-nighter to get it done before I caught the plane."

"That sucks." Steve frowned in sympathy.

Jackson shrugged. "Rather pull an all-nighter than have to bring it here and interrupt my holiday with you."

Steve cast a mischievous grin. "Definitely," he agreed emphatically.

The rest of the trip passed in pleasant conversation. Jackson described his current case, enlightening Steve as to the stupid thing this judge was asking for before he heard their case in mid-January.

"Honestly, I don't know, but sometimes I think part of the prerequisite to being a judge is being crazier than a bucket of worms in a bowl full of jelly."

"Really? Worms? Eww." Steve wrinkled his lip in disgust at the image that popped in his head.

Jackson just laughed and continued his story and Steve knew he'd never make it as a lawyer. He had no patience for stuff like that.

Steve spoke about his bakery and some of the crazy orders people tried to make at the last minute.

"So this secretary calls today, about five minutes before we close. She wants a five-tiered cake for their corporate Christmas party. But she wants it tomorrow. And she's talking all snooty. Like she's got a gold ingot stuck in her throat or something and I'm privileged just to hear it warble as she yammers. I'm trying to tell her it's not possible and she's not listening and she's describing all the things she wants on this cake. Like Santas and reindeers and all kinds of crazy, intricate shit. And I'm telling her no, in the most polite way I can, and she's just not listening.

"So I totally give up and yell into the phone. 'Lady, you're totally crazy and we can't do it.' Well that shuts her up for all of five seconds. Then she says. 'Do you know who you're talking to? My boss is the high muckety-muck of shitville and he goes golfing every Sunday with your boss. If you don't want to loose your job, you'd better do what I say.'"

"High muckety-muck of shitville?" Jackson repeated, raising his eyebrow dramatically.

"I'm paraphrasing. Not like I was actually paying much attention anyways. I mean, who could listen to a voice like that for more than ten seconds anyways?"

Jackson snorted and coughed at the same time and Steve glanced over at him, making sure he wasn't choking or anything. But the red face and telltale shaking of shoulders wasn't unusual. Jackson was trying not to laugh at him again. Steve had seen it a thousand times through the LCD, but seeing it in person was somehow so much more appealing.

"Hey, do you want me to finish or not?" Steve asked, feigning indignation.

Jackson took a minute and cleared his throat several times.

"Yes, by all means please continue the story of the high muckety-muck from shitville." Jackson chuckled.

"It wasn't the high muckety-muck, it was his secretary. Pay attention. So anyways," Steve continued with a feigned miffed shrug and a toss of his short red hair. "She pauses for all of five seconds and then says, 'Not you. I mean the owner of the store. My boss and the owner are golf buddies and you'd just better do what you're told.'"

"Like I've ever actually done what people told me to. So I tell her, in the most posh, prissy voice I can manage that I am the owner of the store and that she's full of shit. And even that doesn't shut her up, and she barely pauses for a breath and says, 'The owner of your chain, you moronic nincompoop.'"

"Nincompoop?" Jackson queried.

"I'm paraphrasing," Steve replied with a shrug.

"Sorry, please continue."

"Indeed." Steve arched his eyebrow, looking haughtily at his passenger.

"Little shit." Jackson choked back a laugh.

"That's what I said," Steve continued. "So I very politely told this stupid bitch that she was barking up the wrong tree. We are not a chain. I was the owner/manager and there was no one higher than me. And that I've never played golf in my life and the only balls I played with are the kind that are attached to the thing that I like going up my ass. Well, the shriek she gave was nearly enough to make my ears bleed and then she started to screech like some crazy hen. So I just shouted over her cackling and told her she probably had the wrong number and hung up on her.

"I mean seriously, what kind of idiot calls the day before Christmas demanding a thing like that? I mean she obviously screwed up and forgot to order it for her boss. Well, man up, sister, and take it like a man and stop trying to yank my dick with all that golf shit."

By the time Steve finished his tirade, Jackson was clutching onto his seatbelt, laughing so hard Steve was afraid he was going to choke himself to death.

"See, that's exactly the same reaction Geoff and Jessica had while they were listening to the conversation. Seriously, I know the customer is king and all that crap, but some people are stupider than a, than a, a bucket of worms in chocolate pudding."

Jackson chortled and chuckled the rest of the way home. It was lucky they were so close now, otherwise Steve was afraid Jackson might choke on his snickers.

"Well, here we are," Steve said, pulling up into the drive way of a small two-story house. He was nervous about what Jackson would think. He wanted to make a good first impression on Jackson. It was important to Steve that Jackson like his small house.

"It's beautiful." Jackson smiled, taking in all the lights and Christmas decorations adorning the small house. The neighbourhood was charming with all its festive cheer lining the streets, but Steve's house was by far the most decorated.

"It really suits you." Jackson turned his beautiful smile to Steve.

"Thanks," Steve muttered shyly. He ducked down and grabbed the suitcase from the trunk while Jackson grabbed his carry-on and led the way inside.

"It's small, but it's cozy." He put the suitcase by the door and kicked off his shoes. "There's a small bathroom to the right there, but if you'd like to take a shower, it's upstairs."

"Oh, I'd love a shower. I feel grimy from the trip."

"No problem." Steve grinned. He tossed his overcoat onto a nearby chair and grabbed the suitcase again. "Just leave you shoes and jacket by the door. I'll hang them up later." He led the way upstairs. "Did you want to go out to dinner? There's a lovely Italian restaurant just a couple of blocks away and they're open late."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not go out. I'm beat."

"No problem, I'll make us something good." Steve turned quickly and couldn't help but notice that Jackson was ogling his ass. Steve blushed, pleased at the attention and put a little more sway into his hips as he continued up the stairs. Thank God for the long jacket that hid his large butt.

"Don't go to any trouble," Jackson began, but Steve interrupted.

"No trouble. I love cooking, you know that."

"Yeah, I do." Steve could hear the grin in Jackson's voice and gave his ass a little wiggle as he reached the top of the stairs.

"So, to the left is the bedroom and to the right is the bathroom. Towels, soap, and extra razor and toothbrush are on the shelf," Steve pointed out. "Feel free to use anything you'd like. I'll put your suitcase in the bedroom. I've cleaned out the top two drawers of the dresser and there's even room in the closet, so feel free to unpack, if you're up to it." Steve stepped past Jackson and opened the door right across from the bathroom.

"The other door is the office. For the most part, it's full of junk. But look around at anything you like.
Mi casa
and all that."