Personal Shopper (7 page)

Hudson – who somehow managed not to be damp and disheveled – gave him an amused sideways look. “Do you even know what a farthing is?”

“Not at all. I was trying to sound British.”

The elevator door pinged open and the hoisting and balancing began again, particularly at the door when Will had to juggle the tree and his keys.

With a minimum of cursing, Will got the door open and they stumbled through; needles flew everywhere, then created a precise trail from the doorway to the corner where they propped it up.

“Do you think we should put it over there?” Hudson asked, surveying the loft as he unwrapped. The coat was the same but he was wearing a pair of jeans and Abercrombie sweater Will had in the bottom of his closet. Even slumming in borrowed clothes, he was edible.

Will rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t. Don’t care if the light is better, the angle is more appealing or the feng shui of the room is better served.”

“You’re cranky after physical labor.”

“Annnd, that’s why I’m a writer. Beer?”

“Brilliant.”

Will got them each a bottle of the microbrewery stuff Hudson had picked up that morning. As he walked over to where Hudson was fussing with rearranging the leaf chair and pedestal side table to make room for the tree, he realized tomorrow was Christmas Eve.

“So what are you doing tomorrow?” he asked as he handed Hudson the beer.

“Nothing? My flight isn’t until noon on Sunday.”

Will took a sip of his drink and regarded the not-quite-doneness of his apartment. “Then I’m thinking we finish up this performance piece, get everything done and uh – just enjoy ourselves tomorrow.”

Hudson gave him a slow turn and curious gaze but the smile pulling at his lips put Will at ease for an answer.

“That sounds lovely.”

“I’ll even cook.”

“You can cook?”

“Two things. Pasta primavera and chocolate cake.”

“Interesting – how did you end up with those two recipes in your repertoire?”

Will shrugged, kicked the corner of the rug. “Those are Veronica’s favorite things to eat. When we were twelve she broke both her arms falling off her bike. Nancy can’t cook, as we have previously established so…”

“You learned how to make your sister’s favorite things,” Hudson finished, his tone warm.

“And made them over and over and over.” Will laughed at the memory. “Everyone must’ve gotten sick of them after a month but they never mentioned it. They just ate it every night.”

Hudson took three long steps, directly into Will’s personal space, until they were inches apart. Will felt himself falling into that sexy stare yet again.

“What?”

“You’re really quite remarkable.” Hudson’s smile set Will on fire.

“I have a few moments here and there.”

The bottle in his hand didn’t hit the floor as the kiss came; he held it tightly in his left hand while the right circled around and pressed into Hudson’s back. Their tongues twined together casually, easily. Not a dirty kiss but a sweet one, lingering as Will ran his teeth lightly over Hudson’s plump lower lip.

“Remarkable,” Hudson murmured when they parted.

Will wasn’t thinking about being an impressive young man or even kissing Hudson at this moment. He was thinking no one was getting a better gift this year than him.

He didn’t say it of course; two days wasn’t long enough to share something so personal, particularly with an admitted workaholic who lived in another country. Neither of them were in a relationship or had been for a long time – it didn’t really speak to starting something of a regular nature.

But still. Still, it felt so lovely to be lying on the bed, naked and flushed, his head on Hudson’s shoulder as the other man napped in the waning afternoon light.

Finishing the decorating had been postponed due to sex and Will quietly acknowledged beating his lifetime record for most fucking in a twenty-eight hour period.

2008. Fire Island. Joe and Peter’s Fourth of July Party.

A distant memory now, because Will had strong arms wrapped around him and a pleasant ache – it was all good.

~ * ~ * ~

He woke up alone in the bed, the melodious tones of Tony Bennett crooning holiday standards filling his ears. It was dark out, the only light coming from the other side of the divider and even that was muted.

“Hudson?” Will called out, feeling a little foolish. He would assume it was the other man and not say, a festive murderer who was hoping to kill him to an appropriate soundtrack.

“Yeah – just – hold on! Give me a minute!” he called and thumps followed, at least two of them quite loud.

Will flopped back on the bed, staring up at the fabric tented ceiling over his bed. He felt content to lie there, listening to Hudson make noise in the other room, soaking in the strange sensation of having his loft filled with sound and action, none of it because of him. He’d lived alone for so long, he’d forgotten the luxury of ambient noise.

“All right.” Hudson poked his head into the space. He was dressed in one of Will’s oversized sweaters and his boxers, anxious and excited as a puppy. “Come on.”

“What did you do?” Will swung his legs over the side and caught the robe that Hudson deftly tossed from the side chair into his lap.

“I couldn’t sleep so I…finished.” He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

“Finished? Oh God, you didn’t need to do that while I was sleeping. Jeeze, Hudson.” Will was still bitching when he followed him into the main living space of the loft, still forming words when his jaw dropped open.

He’d walked into the Saks Fifth Avenue Holiday To Impress The In-Laws display and certainly not his bachelor’s loft.

CHAPTER NINE

The loft was a work of art.

The tree was decorated with simple white lights and a drape of white satin ribbon, winding around like perfectly placed snow. The furniture had been grouped into a comfortable seating area, with creamy white throws on the back of the couches. All the clutter of toys and books were tucked away but not hidden; it looked like a grown-up’s apartment but still his.

Fat white candles sat grouped on silver platters in various places – the coffee table, the bookshelves, the table. Small silver cups of moss accented other surfaces.

The table was set, an echo of the other decorations in the rest of the space. It looked even nicer than at the store, with a line of white taper candles in silver holders down the middle, and moss and baby’s breath draped around their bottoms.

It was like creative elves had descended while he was sleeping. Or rather – one very attractive elf, standing in the middle of the living room in a borrowed sweater and silk boxers.

“Oh my God,” Will said, a little breathless. He imagined a lot of things about how to make this work but he didn’t imagine actually liking it. This was for Veronica – not him.

“It’s all right?” Hudson sounded tentative.

“It’s – Jesus. It’s perfect.” He crossed into Hudson’s space, all gesturing hands and flapping jaw. He wanted to climb this man like a tree and…and…rip up his plane ticket.

“How can I ever thank you?” Will murmured as he wrapped his arms around Hudson’s shoulders.

Hudson shook his head so Will held on tighter.

“I’m serious. This is beautiful.” Will kissed the side of his neck, threading his fingers through his hair as he tilted back to look into Hudson’s eyes. “Thank you.”

“I want Christmas to go well for you. And Veronica,” Hudson said, quiet and serious. “I want those people to walk in here and fall in love with your family and give their blessing.”

Will kissed him because he literally didn’t know what else to do. Words could just get him in trouble.

~ * ~ * ~

“Is everything okay?” Nancy asked from somewhere on a cruise ship, as Will sat alone in the loft. Hudson had gotten it into his head to cook something for Christmas dinner – both tonight and for tomorrow – and had ducked out to the store. He’d been gone almost three hours and Will tried not to clock watch. And failed epically.

“Yeah, everything’s great. I actually pulled this off.” He didn’t mention Hudson. It felt too personal and private to share just yet.

“Veronica is asking a lot,” his mother sighed. She and Veronica were equally matched clones of one another, a fact that he and his father never ever mentioned.

“Yes. She is. But we’re going to do it.”

“Obviously. And this boy – I’m serious Will – if he’s a jerk I’m going to make you punch him.”

“Make love not war.”

“I don’t like these people already.”

“Mom – we have to give them a chance.”

“I gave them a chance. Then they made Veronica cry, made me and your father cut our vacation short, and have you running around when you should be writing.” Nancy huffed. “This young man should have told his parents in no uncertain terms to butt out of his business. He’s thirty years old! He can marry whomever he wants.”

Will shook his head. The loft looked beautiful but this was all going to go to hell when his parents met the rich French people.

“Not everyone believes in love at first sight.”

“Good. No one should believe in anything they don’t want to. That doesn’t mean they get to decide for others.”

“You should put that on your next protest sign,” Will teased gently. Nancy drove him crazy but she really was awesome.

“Maybe I will.”

She put his dad on then; he and Tom discussed the weather in Bermuda, his book ending troubles and the fact that Nancy was, indeed, going to make him punch Roan if he didn’t stick up for her.

“I love you guys. See you tomorrow,” Will said, hanging up with a stupid smile on his face. Whatever happened tomorrow, he’d ended up with a nice reminder of why he loved his family.

He texted Veronica “all is AWESOME” and some x’s and o’s. Then he wrapped gifts until he heard a knock at the door.

Hudson was on the other side, trailed by a young man Will recognized from the local market. They were each carrying about seven hundred bags.

“No orphans but Don here volunteered to help,” Hudson said as they gathered up the bags at his feet and hauled everything into the kitchen.

“And sadly no farthings. I’ll give him a twenty?” Will asked as he directed Don where to put the bags. Hudson was already back in the hallway.

“More? Come on! My fridge isn’t that big!” But there was Hudson, with paper shopping bags from stores Will didn’t recognize.

“There are other things.” Hudson bustled around the apartment, darting around Don and Will who just backed up to stay out of his way.

“Crazy.” Will dug into his pocket and found two twenties. “Hey Don – you rock. Have a good holiday.”

Don’s face lit up. “Thank you so much. Have a good one.” He stuffed the money into his leather jacket and darted out the door.

Will shut the door behind him.

“Hey? Handsome guy with a shopping problem? What’s up with all this?”

Hudson was now in the kitchen, unpacking with military efficiency. “Dinner for tonight. Dinner and dessert for tomorrow. Restocking for your bar.”

“I have a bar?” Will sat at the island stool.

“You will soon. Oh, and I picked up something for your future mother in law. It was the only gift you were missing.”

“Crap.” Will looked over the side of the island where Hudson had disappeared. “How did you remember that?”

“Put it on the list in my phone.” Hudson popped back up. “Did you get any writing done?”

“Shhhh, we’re not talking about that. I talked to my mother, texted Veronica. Dusted.” He rested his elbows on the counter.

“How’s Veronica holding up?” Hudson’s voice got strained.

“I don’t know. She didn’t text me back. Mom’s pissed though. She thinks Roan should stand up to his parents and tell them to back off.” He sighed. “I don’t disagree.”

“Neither do I.”

“Hey – everything okay?” Will’s attention was brought back to Hudson at his tone. His face.

“Yes. Sorry. Work news I didn’t much care to hear.” He disappeared into the fridge with a handful of fresh produce.

Will didn’t say anything. He slid off the chair and walked around into the kitchen, silently helping put away the groceries. Every time he brushed past Hudson in the small space, he gave him a kiss on the cheek. By the time the last thing was put away, he was smiling.

“You’re determined to keep me from a foul mood,” Hudson said, pulling Will into his arms.

“It’s Christmas Eve and we’ve both been saved from a sucky holiday, at least for one more day. Let’s just enjoy it.” Will ran his hands over Hudson’s shoulders, giving him a little shake.

“Deal. And I bought wine and a lovely roast. Let me get started with that.” Hudson kissed him on the nose. “You should go sit down and try to write.”

“This is my ‘blah I don’t want to do that’ face.” Will sighed but he didn’t protest. There was a little shuffling and dramatic breathing but he went to his desk as Hudson began puttering around in the kitchen.

Two hours later, Will had nothing except the smell of a beef roast in red wine with country vegetables distracting him.

“Anything?” Hudson handed him a glass of wine.

“Nope.” Will smiled as he swung the chair around. “It’ll come. I feel like it’s just right there, waiting for me to go get it.”

“I don’t understand the process,” he admitted, settling on the corner of the desk.

“Ah, neither do I. I merely channel.” Will sipped his wine.

“So there’s nothing right now…”

“Actually.” He rubbed his palm on Hudson’s thigh. “I know what I want to write. I just can’t give myself permission to do it.”

“Does it make sense?”

“Sorta.” Sheriff Black wanted to live. Even after everything – he wanted to keep going. Who was Will to tell him no? “It flies in the face of reason but I think I can sell it.”

“So take your own advice.”

“Which brilliance are you referring to?”

Hudson touched his face gently. “Gut check and jump.”

“I don’t usually make that a habit,” Will said, full stop honesty, as he looked up into Hudson’s face. “It’s a two times in thirty years sort of thing.”

“Third times the charm.”

Or maybe it’s the fourth, because butterflies were dancing in Will’s gut and he wasn’t thinking about the book right at that moment.