RR-CDA (2 page)

“I brought this. I’d hoped . . .” Adam reached into his back pocket and pulled out a ring box.

Oh come on!

“Steven Mitchell Cibulskis, would you do me the honor of being my husband?”

Cole wasn’t sure, but he might have groaned. Loudly.

Fuck, he’d lost Steven. Though from the sound of things, he apparently never really had him in the first place.

His stomach churned as Steven pulled Adam to his feet and kissed him passionately one more time before embracing him. It was only then that Adam locked gazes with Cole. The other man at least looked embarrassed, though Cole had no doubt it had more to do with Cole being forgotten than the outcome of the scene. Adam whispered something into Steven’s ear.

“Oh shit.” Steven turned around and looked at Cole. He’d clearly been so caught up in the situation that he’d forgotten about him. “Cole.”

There were many ways he could handle this. He could lose his temper, he could cry and whine, he could hand over the tickets and encourage them to go on the trip. It would be a romantic gesture. That’s what would have happened in the movies.

He held his ticket a little tighter in his hand. “So, I take it our plans have changed.”

“I’m so sorry.” Steven left Adam’s side and came a few steps closer. “There was no way I could know this would happen.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t plan for him to come back into my life. I thought he was gone for good. That he didn’t want me anymore.”

“I know.”

“If there is anything I can do to—”

Cole held up his hands, his eyes squeezing shut. He’d been hurt far too many times to be overly gracious. “Stop. Please.”

“You had plans.” Adam’s voice made him open his eyes once more. “You were taking him on a trip? Steve, your parents didn’t mention—”

“Yes.” He swallowed down his anger. “To Banff.”

“Can you get your money back?” Steven reached back and took Adam’s hand. “Or can we take the tickets and I’ll pay—”

“I’ll get a refund. Don’t worry about it.” At least he hoped he could. He wanted to say something else but his throat tightened, blocking the way. With each second ticking past, his emotions threatened to tear him apart from the inside out.

He had to run. Get the hell out of here before everything exploded. “Just . . . Sorry, I need to get out of here.”

“Cole, wait!”

He yanked his suitcase behind him, ignoring Adam’s, “Let him go. I’m going to take you away. He’ll be fine.”

Would he? He’d been dumped before and survived. Well, not at an airport on his way to a romantic vacation a few weeks before Christmas. This was actually the third time he’d been left for another man. Did he pick guys who were on the rebound on purpose, or was it simply bad luck? Maybe a bit of both. His family wouldn’t tease him, but from the beginning none of them had been big fans of Steven. He hoped his mother and sister would at least wait a week before they started saying,
I told you so
.

The December air was sharp and bit into his skin as he made his way to the Park-and-Go. He wasn’t a big fan of the cold, despite living in Toronto, but for once it felt good to be out in it. The wind blew away his anger and numbed his emotions so he could catch his breath. His feet crunched against a thin layer of the snow that had been falling steadily since they’d arrived. He’d been concerned that the snow would delay their flight and they’d spend a long time in the lounge. That they’d lose out on a day of their vacation.

Oh, if only things had been that simple.

The car door creaked as he pulled it open. He should have put his suitcase in the trunk, but that was more effort than he was able to make. Instead he threw it into the passenger’s spot, the place where Steven had sat not thirty minutes earlier, excited to head out for their trip and chatting nonstop about wanting to try snowboarding. He was alone, cold, and wanting a drink.

This was like being trapped on the wrong side of a romantic comedy. Holy shit, he was the dude no one remembered at the end of the movie. He was the leftover. The drip no one rooted for at any point in the book. The putz. The loser.

Damn it
.

He fell into the seat, slammed the door shut, and turned the car on. The windshield had already frosted, lines of crystals covering the inside glass in long thatched marks. The frost meant another delay while the car heated up. Gripping the steering wheel, he fixed his gaze on the frost, watching as it ran away from the heat that blasted from the vents.

“Fuck!” He slammed his hands against the wheel, the force of the impact elevated by the cold material against his bare hands.

Why did this shit keep happening to him? He should have known things weren’t exactly right between them, that what they had wasn’t long-term–relationship material. Steven had always willingly followed him and his choices, but never seemed all that committed—like he was simply passing time.

There was something about Cole that kept others away. He was smart, good at his job, generous with his time and money. What more could someone want?

“Maybe I’m broken.” His breath rolled from his lips, chasing the words into the dark night.

The cold dampened his anger, bringing it down to little more than a wisp. By the time the window was clear enough for him to drive, he had relaxed. There wasn’t anything he could do about the situation. Steven loved Adam, which was obvious to anyone with eyes in their head. Cole couldn’t very well get upset, chase after Steven, or even demand compensation for the lost vacation. He might be many things, but he refused to become a villain. Not even at the cost of his happiness.

The highway wasn’t overly busy, and it didn’t take long for him to make the drive back into the city. Even the traffic in Toronto itself seemed to take pity on him, easing his journey home. He pulled into his parking spot for the condo building, turned the car off, but didn’t get out immediately. The thought of going in to his place—totally devoid of holiday decorations because he hadn’t been planning on being here for the holidays—made him ill.

What he wanted was a drink.

Maybe more than one.

Leaving his stuff in the car, he got out and made his way down the street to his favorite bar. It was after eleven, which meant McGregor’s would be packed. He’d be able to find a spot at the bar, have a beer, and lose himself in the surrounding noises. It would be enough to shake away the pain. At least for a while.

Walking through the doors of McGregor’s, he realized fate was working completely against him. He was greeted with a blast of hot air and “White Christmas” playing on the jukebox. Yes, of course, it would
have
to be Steven’s favorite holiday song crackling through the speakers. His shoulders slumped forward a tiny bit more as he stepped into the bar and let the door swing closed behind him.

Instead of the normal crowds that filled the place this time of night, the bar was barely half-full. The booths and tables were littered with small groups, folks who were celebrating the season. The only people sitting at the bar were a young couple: a man and woman who were so into one another the bar could have been burning around them and they wouldn’t have noticed.

“White Christmas” faded away and was promptly replaced with “All I Want for Christmas Is You.”

Goddamn it
.

This wasn’t going to work. He should turn around and go back to his condo. Nothing good could come from him sitting in a bar and inevitably watching a happy couple make out. He’d half turned when Owen McGregor came out from the back and stepped behind the bar. The bartender looked over and saw him, lifting a hand in greeting. Owen had gotten a haircut since the last time Cole had been there. His black hair was cropped close against the sides of his head, but still long enough on top to tempt a man to run his fingers through.

Maybe someday Cole might get up the nerve to touch it, see if the hairs would tickle his palm as he scratched Owen’s scalp.

Oh, that was a helpful line of thought.
Idiot.

Owen winked at him. “Hey, man. I’ll be right with you.”

Shit, there went his escape. He waved back and walked over to the opposite end of the bar from the couple. “Thanks.”

The only thing more cliché in Cole’s mind than wanting to bone a cop who’d pulled you over was the impulse to fuck your bartender against the bar. Owen had starred in several of Cole’s masturbation fantasies over the years. Which wasn’t surprising given how good the man looked. He didn’t have a clue if the bartender was gay or not, but it didn’t particularly matter on those nights. Owen was built, had a wicked smile and big hands.

Cole had to adjust himself as he slipped onto the stool. He wasn’t wearing the right outfit to hide a massive boner.

Owen had a smile that could make hearts pound, but a kindness about him that made everyone feel special. He was the reason Cole had started coming to McGregor’s on a regular basis. Not to flirt with Owen, but simply to be around and enjoy the warmth of his personality. If anyone could help get Cole into a better mood, it was him.

“Surprised to see you here.” Owen slid two bottles of beer to a waiting patron, then flipped his hand towel over his shoulder. “I thought you were going out of town for Christmas.”

“An unexpected change of plans.” The bar seat was hard beneath his ass, offering support as much as discomfort. “Draft, please. Whatever’s on tap is good.”

Owen grabbed a pint glass and started the pull. “That sucks, dude. Though it’s nice to have a friendly face in here tonight.”

“I was going to ask. It’s pretty damn quiet.”

“There’s a live band down the street. Some big holiday reunion tour thing. I couldn’t even tell you the name of the group, but they’re apparently popular. People started leaving here in droves about thirty minutes ago.” Owen shrugged. “I don’t mind. It’s nice to hear myself think for a change.”

When Owen placed the glass in front of him, the draft had just the right amount of head on it. “Thanks.”

There was something refreshing about swallowing down a cold beer when you were having a bad day. His body instantly relaxed in a way that he didn’t want to examine too closely. Steven always had thought he enjoyed his alcohol a bit too much. Which was ironic, since Steven often drank more than he did, with all the careless assurance of a young man who seemed blissfully immune to hangovers. Still, with his tension slowly bleeding away, he was able to calm his mind.

Owen chuckled. “That kind of night, eh?” and topped off Cole’s drink. “I’ll make sure you don’t run dry.”

“Thanks.” Cole reclaimed the glass, staring at the way the bubbles rose to the surface and popped into the warm air. “My boyfriend, Steven, left me. For his old partner.”

Owen wasn’t the kind of bartender who normally encouraged a man to pour out his heart. It wasn’t that he was unfriendly, quite the opposite, but he was busy running his business. Shit, Cole didn’t even know if the other man
knew
he was gay. He looked up to see a slightly bewildered expression on Owen’s face. “Sorry. I don’t know why I said that. You don’t need to know about my crap.”

“Hey, it’s fine.” Owen glanced around the bar, checking on everything before reaching into the fridge below the bar and grabbing a beer, cracking it open, and taking a drink. “It sounds like you need to talk.”

Unlike a few moments ago, Owen wasn’t quite meeting his gaze any longer. Great. Now that he knew Cole was gay, this was going to be an issue. “Naw, I’m fine. Just wanted a beer before heading home.” Swallowing down as much of the draft as he could stomach, Cole left a good inch in the bottom of the glass before slipping off the stool.

“All I Want for Christmas Is You” switched over to “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.”

“You don’t have to go.” Owen put his beer down and took Cole’s hand. His skin was cool, damp from holding the bottle. He gave Cole a gentle squeeze. “There isn’t a problem if that’s what you think. I’m more than happy to listen.”

Cole’s heart ached a bit more at the look of pity coming his way. No, fuck, that was one thing he couldn’t handle. “I shouldn’t have come. I’m not fit company for anyone tonight.”

He was going for his wallet when Owen held up his hand. “On the house. It’s the least I can do.”

“Thanks.” Normally he would argue, or at least toss down a generous tip to compensate, but tonight he tucked his wallet back into his pocket. “See you.”

The tension took root in his shoulders once again as he slipped on his coat and trudged toward the door. Still, it didn’t quite explain the feeling that he was being watched as he left. When he looked back at the bar before the door closed behind him, Owen had moved off to the side, wiping the bar down as he moved.

Typical. Another example of Cole misreading the situation. Owen hadn’t done anything to deserve him being an asshole. Just another reason for him to hide away from people. Pulling up the collar of his coat, he walked through the cold to his empty home.

One thing Owen truly appreciated about owning a bar was the opportunity to meet all sorts of interesting people. It was one of the perks that helped ease the stress of having taken over running McGregor’s after his dad’s stroke. Night after night he’d come in, meet with the staff, chat with customers, get local musicians to come play, and generally be able to forget about the rest of the shit in his life. Sure, there were those people who’d had bad days and needed to vent. Hell, he could relate. That didn’t mean he would let anyone wallow if he could help it. So he talked to his customers, learned all he could about them so when they needed it he could perfectly distract them.