Sleigh Ride (Minnesota Christmas Book 2) (7 page)

Because he felt some of his walls trying to lower on him too.

They talked about dumb stuff—TV shows and the way Frank Jessup lorded over the counter at the cafe like it was his personal fiefdom—but what they said didn’t matter. While they talked, invisible lures kept casting out between them—and catching. Every smile drew Arthur closer, anchored him. When Gabriel rested his arm on the table, his long fingers extending ever so slightly onto Arthur’s side, Arthur went out of his way to brush those fingers, wishing he dared capture Gabriel’s hand. Normally he would have gripped him full on—to make Gabriel flustered, to bully him into yielding. Tonight he couldn’t.

For one, Gabriel was already all but laid flat for him. More importantly, though, Arthur felt pretty fucked himself.

When the check came, he paid. Gabriel made the briefest of noises about his half, but it only took a glance from Arthur to quiet him. The surrender did crazy things to Arthur’s insides.

That’s right. Let me take care of you.

On the way back to the truck, he got brave and rested his hand on Gabriel’s elbow, thrilling when this gesture met no resistance. As he let Gabriel into the passenger side, his brain began painting erotic pictures of everything he was about to do to his hot little librarian. Not little. Lanky. Lithe.
Lengthy.

As Arthur got behind the wheel, he was hit with a mental image of Gabriel laid out in Arthur’s bed, long arms and legs splayed, his curved cock arching prettily to the left. Arthur had to shut his eyes, grip the wheel and take a deep breath before he could turn the key.

“You need to come see the sleigh sometime.” Arthur kept his eyes on the road as he spoke, but not because the weather was bad. “It looks pretty nice.”

You should come hang out with me. I want to show you the things I can do, not just in bed.

“I’d like that very much,” Gabriel said.

His voice was so soft. So pretty. Arthur’s head filled with the image of kissing Gabe, pressing his body to a wall, dragging him down to where their height difference didn’t matter.

Catching himself on the wrong side of the road, he swerved back over, heart pounding—and not because he’d been about to hit anything, either. “Sorry.”

Arthur tried to think of other things to say, but it took everything in him not to make pornos in his head starring himself and Logan’s finest librarian. Except they weren’t porn half as much as they were retreads on those cheesy Lifetime Christmas specials Paul had watched on his laptop every damn Christmas. When Arthur attempted to turn up the
bow-chicka-wow-wow
on his mental movies, they kept mellowing into kisses, touches and the way Gabriel had looked at Arthur across the table. Soft. Tentative, but hopeful. Searching, seeing underneath Arthur’s bullshit and wiseass crap…and smiling.

Nobody had looked at Arthur that way before.

By the time he pulled into the library parking lot beside Gabriel’s car, Arthur felt out of body. Drunk but with his head crystal clear at the same time. He climbed out of the truck and went around to see Gabriel in a kind of daze, mostly certain what his next step in this dance was supposed to be but suddenly unsure about actually going through with the motions.

In his head, he saw himself put his hand on Gabriel’s waist, his other hand on Gabriel’s cheek. He’d stare into his pretty face, maybe take off those glasses, trace the rims with a knowing smile. He’d pull Gabriel to him, gently at first, then more insistently as he kissed him, delving deeper and deeper into that sweet mouth. Arthur would press Gabe against his car, making his librarian go slack and soft with want. Then he’d pour him into his truck, take him home and fuck him boneless.

That wasn’t what happened.

Arthur reached for Gabriel, his heart beating an SOS in his rib cage. He touched Gabriel’s shoulder, steadying himself as he stood on tiptoe and, with his lungs constricted in tension, brushed a tentative kiss against Gabriel’s cheek.

He let him go, head spinning as he walked away, feeling Gabriel’s stunned gaze burning into him all the way to his truck.

Gabriel stared at Arthur’s retreating back as Arthur climbed into his truck and shut the door. He stood there several seconds, acknowledging Arthur wouldn’t leave until he did.

He wondered if Arthur planned to follow him to his house.

He was reasonably certain Arthur wouldn’t.

Climbing into his car, Gabriel tried to act as if nothing was wrong, like he wasn’t so off-kilter his hand shook as he started his engine. His breath came out in white clouds over the steering wheel, staccato puffs as he scraped the key over the ignition hole until he could get the metal inside the grooves. For a terrible moment he feared it wouldn’t start and Arthur would return to extend the awkward, but then it turned over, and Gabriel went slack with relief.

At the first moment his car was warm enough to drive without stalling, he put it in gear, blasting the defrost to burn off the thin film of ice crystals that had formed as evening set in. He watched in his rearview mirror as he wove his way home, heart lifting as Arthur followed him for several blocks, spirits sagging as he turned off on the road leading out of town. Gabriel drove on, parking in the garage, shutting the car off, closing the garage door, letting himself into the kitchen. After hanging up his coat and setting his gloves on the top shelf of the closet, tucking his boots beneath, he put the kettle on to make himself a cup of tea. Placing a tea bag into a mug, he stared at it while he waited for the water to boil.

He only ever said he was taking you to dinner.

You only wanted him to take you to dinner. In all honesty, you didn’t even want that.

The kettle whistled, and Gabriel poured the water with a steady hand. Picking up the tag and string, he dunked the tea bag several times into the water.

He’s not your type. Not so much as a distant cousin of your type.

Gabriel withdrew the tea bag and set it on a saucer. Cradling the cup, he went to his desk and opened his laptop. He sipped at his tea while he read news headlines, scanned his Twitter stream and replied to message boards.

He faltered as he tried to type a message, remembering the way Arthur had looked at him across the table.

It would have been messy, he told himself as he brushed his teeth. The sex would have been good, but it couldn’t have ended well, and then every trip to the grocery store or cafe would risk awkward encounters.

It wasn’t until Gabriel turned out his lamp and pulled the comforter over his ears that he let the hurt leak out around the edges as he put his walls back into place.

It would have been messy, but I still wanted it.

He tucked those feelings carefully away, vowing he wouldn’t let them out again. Not around Arthur Anderson.

The cabin was dark as Arthur approached, and the silence echoed around him as he let himself inside. When he turned on the lights, no one lifted a sleepy head from the couch or appeared on the stairs. Marcus didn’t grouse at him to take off his boots. Paul didn’t smile and ask if he wanted some cocoa, an invitation to sit and talk—or fuck—in his eyes.

There wasn’t anyone in the cabin, and there wasn’t going to be anymore. Arthur never enjoyed that truth, but tonight he hated it, and it cut him to the bone.

He didn’t want to live by himself. He didn’t like
being
by himself. It was lonely and unnerving.

It wasn’t
right
, and tonight especially his solitary state made him angry. He was
supposed
to be able to come home from whatever the hell the evening had been and talk it through with Marcus and Paul. This wasn’t in the script, wandering into a dark cabin with nothing but the whirr of the fridge to keep him company.

He was aware he’d just turned away company. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew Gabriel had wanted Arthur to kiss him—
really
kiss him. Would have done the kissing himself if Arthur had hung around another thirty seconds. Which was why he’d ducked and run.

Which he didn’t understand, because he sorely wanted to kiss Gabriel, and then some. As he’d stood there in the cold, Gabriel looking at him like that, he couldn’t. He didn’t know why. He needed to talk about it, or bitch about it, or yell or something. Except there was nobody here.

He’d go to Marcus in the morning. He didn’t know what in the hell he’d say, but he’d talk to him. Not tonight, because Marcus was in bed with Frankie, and it was one thing to wake up somebody on your couch, quite another to call them.

God, it was so
fucking quiet
in this goddamned cabin.

Grabbing a beer, Arthur plunked down on his couch, turned on his TV to a damn infomercial and drank until the quiet didn’t bug him anymore.

C
hapter Eight

T
wo days after his date with Arthur, Gabriel went into work early. He played Five for Fighting over Spotify while he cataloged, and sipped coffee as he indulged in a back-and-forth chat with Alex. He held story time, where he read books on different winter holiday traditions, then fielded concern from community members. To his delight, in addition to the usual complaints about Kwanza (“You know that isn’t a real holiday, just a bunch of liberal hooey,”) and Hanukkah, he was also scolded by an atheist for talking about religion at all. The poor man was so confused when Gabriel beamed and thanked him instead of arguing with him about exposure to all culture. Mostly, though, the day was normal once more, notable only for the fact that Arthur wasn’t in it.

It was a discordant note, though, because in two nights Arthur had undone Gabriel’s carefully cultivated sanctuary of work. It wasn’t just lonely to go home alone at the end of the day and browse message boards instead of getting ambushed on his couch or driven against his will to Eveleth. It hurt and made him think constantly of how good it had felt for those few hours. It made him want it again, though he knew it could only end in tears—it had, in fact, already gone there.

Time to stop thinking about him, Gabriel told himself. Which meant getting rid of all reminders. He’d finished filling out the grants that morning. After putting them in a folder, he tucked them under his arm, locking the door behind him before heading across the street to the law office.

Marcus wasn’t in, and the note on his receptionist’s desk instructed him to inquire next door in the salon. After laying the folder down, Gabriel stuck his head into the salon.

Frankie was wiping down his chairs with disinfectant, and he smiled as he saw Gabriel. “Well, hi. Come on in.”

Gabriel remained safely in the doorway. “I don’t want to keep you. I just wanted to let you know I dropped something off for Marcus. I left it on the desk. Tell him thanks.” With a wave and a thin smile, Gabriel ducked out the door.

Or rather, he tried to. Frankie had closed the distance between them, and he held the door open against Gabriel’s effort to pull it closed. “Hey—it’s okay, you’re not keeping me. Don’t rush off. I wanted to talk to you anyway about this fundraiser. Arthur told me all about it the other night, and I’m so excited.”

Gabriel tried not to visibly bristle. “You can talk to the library board. I won’t be involved, so there’s no need to inform me of anything.” He tried again to shut the door.

This time Frankie blocked it with more force, and his smile died. “I knew it. He fucked it up, didn’t he? Arthur,” he clarified when Gabriel tried to give him a blank look. Frankie pursed his lips. “Damn it, I
knew
this would happen.”

“This has nothing to do with Arthur.” Gabriel glanced across the street in case his face gave away his lie. “The library opens in ten minutes. I’m sorry, I can’t stay.”

Frankie snorted and reached around the back of the door, remerging with a red ski coat in his hand. “I’ll walk you.”

Gabriel didn’t want to wait for him, but it would be rude not to, so he waited, sullen and weary as Frankie locked up his store and the law office. Once finished, he looped his arm through Gabriel’s and led him across the street.

“He came over the other morning, you know. We were barely out of bed, and I wasn’t dressed. I’ve never seen him so frazzled.”

Gabriel said nothing, but he admitted to himself the news made him glad—then squashed the ray of hope like a bug.
No.
He was done with this nonsense.

Frankie continued. “I’ll be the first to admit he’s a piece of work. He’s a wonderful man, though, with a heart of gold. And I’ve never seen him like this. He must be quite taken with you.”

Gabriel wasn’t listening to any of this. “While I appreciate the recommendation of your friend, I need you to know you’re wasting your time. I have no interest in dating Arthur. And he made it clear the other night he has no interest in that either.”

“Well, whatever he said then wasn’t what he said the next morning.”

“What he said at any point in time is irrelevant. I’m not interested in him.” He produced his keys. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a great deal of work to do, Mr. Blackburn.”

Frankie touched his arm as he tried to unlock the door. “Gabriel—I’m sorry. I can tell he hurt you.”

Gabriel tried to wrap himself up tighter, raising his internal walls as high as they would go. “No one hurt me. I’m perfectly fine. Just not interested. At all. If you’d be so kind as to pass the information on to Mr. Anderson, I’d appreciate it very much.” He stared pointedly at Frankie’s arm.

With a sigh, Frankie lowered it. “He
really
hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“Have a good day,” Gabriel said.

He leaned on the door for several seconds after he’d closed it, shutting his eyes and taking deep breaths to steady himself. After about four he felt normal. He unlocked the door and went to his office, putting Arthur Anderson firmly behind him. For good.

“What in the world did you do to him?”

This explosion came from Frankie as he burst into the cabin, and Arthur set down the radio he was puttering with and blinked at him, surprised. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I
was
at work. Gabriel came over, his face like stone, to tell me he’d left something on Marcus’s desk. When I tried to talk to him about the fundraiser, he told me he wasn’t having any part of it. When I asked what you’d done to him, he said nothing, and to tell you basically to fuck off and never talk to him again.”

Arthur winced, something tight in his chest going a hell of a lot tighter, turning from an ache into a sharp, terrible point.

Frankie slammed his keys on the counter and peeled out of his coat as he advanced. “What. Did. You. Do?”

“Frankie,” Arthur whispered.

“Don’t you
Frankie
me. You didn’t see him. He looked wrecked. He’s been so lonely for so long, and
now
he’s
worse
.” He glared. “And
you
did something.”

Arthur averted his gaze to the table in front of him. “I didn’t. Honest. But…I think that’s the problem.”

Frankie folded his arms over his chest. “
Fix it
, Arthur. Fix it right now.”

Arthur shrank into himself. “I can’t, Frankie. I would but I can’t, because I don’t…I don’t understand.”

Softening a little, Frankie pulled out a chair. “Tell me.”

Arthur didn’t want to. But he took a deep breath and told Frankie everything that had happened. About them hooking up, going on a date and the kiss he couldn’t follow through with in the parking lot. Then he looked up, not sure what he was hoping for.

Frankie melted. “Oh, Arthur. How can you not see it?”

“See what? Frankie, I can’t tell what the hell is going on.”

Frankie took Arthur’s hands in his. “What’s going on, Arthur Anderson, is you’re in love.”

Arthur drew back. “The hell I am.”

“If you aren’t in love yet, you’re well on your way. What else would you call how you’re reacting?”

Arthur started to argue—faltered as the truth hit him, a ton of bricks in the middle of his face. Gabriel-sized bricks.

“Fuck.” He sank so deep in his chair he nearly slumped in a puddle to the floor. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“Fix it. Go to him.”

Arthur shoved the radio away from him. “I can’t. Anyway, you just said he doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“Because you rejected him, and he’s hurt.
Go to him.
”

Frankie was right. He should. But every time Arthur thought about knocking on that door, his insides quaked. “I can’t,” he whispered at last.

Eventually Frankie stormed off, muttering about pigheaded loggers, but Arthur didn’t argue. He couldn’t make up with Gabriel. He had to let this blow over and die.

Gabriel Higgins might be hot, and Arthur might have feelings for him, but that was all the more reason to stay home and hide. The librarian wasn’t the only one afraid of rejection.

After Frankie’s visit, Gabriel knew there would be an intervention, and all week Gabriel expected Arthur to show up at the library or at his house. He’d worried Arthur might show up during the day, or after the library closed as he’d done before. When Arthur didn’t show up, not even on Saturday night, Gabriel should have felt relieved.

Gabriel didn’t. He went to sleep feeling sorrier for himself than ever. The self-pity lingered in the morning, amplifying as he showered and blow-dried his hair. Gabriel felt sullen, wounded, and increasingly pissed. When the next day and the day after resulted in the same absence of Arthur, those feelings remained.

Which was probably why when he was at the grocery store on Sunday morning and he ran into Paul Johnson, he smiled at him and acted as if they were friends.

Theoretically he knew most of the people in Logan, but in general he kept to himself because that’s how he was. He’d spoken to Paul on occasion, and he had a bit of insight on the man from his DVD rental habits, but nothing more. He had no reason to talk to him today, except this was Arthur’s self-proclaimed ex, and suddenly Arthur Anderson’s ex-lover was someone he wanted to get to know better. It turned out it didn’t take much to get Paul talking. He was a gregarious man eager to make friends, particularly with other gay men. Paul was, Gabriel quickly realized, hitting on him.

Paul wasn’t his type. But when Paul asked if he wanted to grab lunch at the cafe, Gabriel said he’d love nothing more.

This was how he ended up on a date with Arthur’s ex, an outing during which he learned many, many interesting things. Because Gabriel didn’t have to bring Arthur up. He appeared in conversation all on his own.

“He’s my best friend, and I love him,” Paul said around a mouthful of chili, “but sometimes I want to punch him in the face.”

Gabriel definitely knew the feeling. “He’s a bit of a bull in a china shop.”

Paul snorted and spooned up more of his lunch. “He’s bullheaded, for sure. Once he gets something in his craw, you need a two-by-four to get rid of it.” He shook his head and ate his next bite before continuing. “We sort of dated, but mostly we were fuck buddies. And while we were never exclusive, I realized by making him my main sexual partner, I couldn’t ever be more than casual with anyone. So I broke it off. I’m not even hanging out with him now that I’ve moved out, which is rough, because for ten years we lived together.”

Gabriel blinked. “Goodness. I can’t imagine he took your leaving very well.”

“He’s still shitting bricks over it, near as I can tell.” Paul rolled his eyes. “That pisses me off. He doesn’t
want
to be my boyfriend. He enjoys the convenience of having me handy. I don’t want to be handy. I want a real relationship. I didn’t realize how much until I saw Marcus and Frankie get together. Thing is, I can’t figure out who I want it with yet.”

Gabriel poked at his sandwich. “I stopped trying to find a relationship a long time ago. No one wants one. They just want to hook up. And the ones who do want one…aren’t what I want. So I don’t bother trying.”

“Except with Arthur.” When Gabriel looked up in surprise, Paul laughed. “Hey, this is a small town. He started sniffing around you? I was the first person everybody came to. They were hoping for drama.” His eyes twinkled as he bit into his roll. “Now, this what we’re doing right here? This is gonna cause some nice fireworks.”

Gabriel paused with his sandwich halfway to his mouth. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re the guy Arthur took to a fancy steakhouse, and now you’re having lunch with me. Frankly I’m surprised he hasn’t showed up here yet to piss a circle around you and mark his territory.”

“What? Ew.” Gabriel tossed down his sandwich. “That’s disgusting.”

Paul chuckled. “Well, I didn’t mean it literally. Though he’d probably about try anything once. He’s a lot of things, but he’s not shy in bed. And, I admit with regret, a tough act to follow.”

Gabriel tried not to let his cheeks color. He was pretty sure he failed. “Hmm.”

Paul winked at him as he ran his roll around his nearly empty bowl, sopping up the last of his beans. “It’s all right. I already know you two got busy. Everyone else assumes, but I know.”

Now Gabriel was appalled. “He told you?”

“What? Oh hell no. He wouldn’t ever. But—” He cut himself off as he glanced out the window, then grinned as whatever was outside got his full attention. “Yeah. There he goes. Ooh, shit, but he’s pissed.
Heh.
Good for you, Arthur. And good for you, Gabriel.”

Heartbeat quickening, Gabriel peered out the window past the frost in time to see Arthur’s red truck peeling out of the parking lot. His spirits sagged. “Why is that good? He left. Why didn’t he come in?” He realized how much he’d revealed and blushed.

“Are you kidding? He saw me on an actual date with a guy the other day and got annoyed that I fucked the status quo. He heard a
rumor
you were out with me, saw us in the window—which is why I had us sit here, for full disclosure—and now he’s driving around like a hotheaded sixteen-year-old who got cock-blocked. This is fantastic. If you don’t get laid tonight, and epically so, I’ll eat this plate.”

Gabriel glanced around, but no one it seemed had overheard them. “I don’t have any plans to get laid tonight, thank you.”

“Oh good. Make him work for it, the cocky son of a bitch.”

“I mean—” Gabriel lifted his eyes to the ceiling, trying to find his footing in this conversation. “I don’t think we’re a good fit. Yes, we had an enjoyable evening together, but I’m not interested. And despite what you’re thinking, I don’t believe he’s interested either.”

Paul leaned forward onto the table. “Here’s the thing. Arthur doesn’t date.”

“Yes, so I’ve been told. But we did. Or…something.”

“Exactly. Usually he just hooks up. If he dated you and didn’t take you to bed after? Honey.” Paul shook his head. “Whenever you want to reel him in, feel free, because this one is on the fucking line, hook firmly embedded in his mouth.”

The image made Gabriel shudder. “I don’t want to put anything in Arthur’s mouth.”