This month
I'm posting a series of holiday vignettes, featuring characters from my
books. Christmas morsels--bite-size scenes of the season. This is Beck and Zach from High Concept…
Christmas
Morsel #2
Beck slouched on the
sofa, watching It’s a Wonderful Life.
Two days before Christmas, and Denver had unseasonably warm temperatures and
not a hint of snow. Didn’t feel very Christmassy, especially with only two
fingers of bourbon for company.
Zach was late. Any
minute he might call to say he couldn’t get away, that some case had heated up
and kept him out in the field.
A key rattled in the
lock. Beck jumped up and opened the door to a surprised Zach, who grinned and
said, “Hey! You’re home!”
“I am.” Beck’s heart
gave a little skip at that gorgeous smile. Beautiful and happy and all his. He
tugged Zach inside, dragging in cold air and closed the door. “You made it.”
In answer Zach dropped
his duffel bag and pulled him in, hot mouth covering Beck’s and tasting of mint.
After not seeing each other for three weeks, it was easy to enter into the
spirit of things. Dueling tongues and bodies pressed together.
They broke for air,
and Zach said, “Merry Christmas.”
“It will be, now that
you’re here.”
Zach chuckled, pulled
off his coat, and draped it over the back of an overstuffed chair. “Want to get
me a drink?”
“Coming right up.”
“Where’s the tree?”
Zach looked around Beck’s apartment as if Beck had hidden a decorated spruce
somewhere.
It hadn’t crossed his
mind that Zach might want—expect—a tree. Of course Zach had grown up with a
more normal childhood, where a Christmas tree would be commonplace. “I…there is
no tree.”
“What do you mean, no Christmas tree?” Zach
looked like the Grinch had just stolen his Christmas.
Beck winced. As a
kid, there hadn’t been money for frivolities like Christmas trees. After he was
on his own, Beck had never bothered with a tree. Christmas was just another
day. Hence, no tree.
Sometimes it was hard to predict what Zach expected. New relationship learning curve at work, Stryker.
“I’m never sure if you’ll make it when we plan to be together, and I didn’t
need a tree…just for me.”
Zach opened his
mouth, closed it.
Was Zach mad? Frustrated?
Had Beck blown it utterly and completely by forgoing a tree? He'd wanted this to be perfect, and now...no tree. No decorations of any kind. No manifestation of holiday spirit. His gut clenched. Beck looked away from that intense blue gaze.
In a blink Zach was
across the room and Beck found himself taken in strong arms. He responded in
kind, drawing Zach to him. The now-familiar smell of Zach’s lemongrass
aftershave soothed Beck's nerves.
“I’m sorry I haven’t
been more reliable,” Zach whispered. “The job tends to be unpredictable.”
Understatement of the
decade. In two months, Zach had had to cancel more rendezvouses than he‘d
attended. Thanksgiving had ended up a solo holiday. So Beck had looked forward
to Christmas, hoping against hope that Zach could break away. A tree would have
been a glaring reminder if Zach had cancelled yet again.
Beck buried
his face in the crook of Zach’s neck. “I know. But it’s what you do. You’re
good at it.”
Zach pulled back and
gestured between them. “I want this. You know that, right?”
“Yeah.” Beck
understood wanting to be together and having it happen weren’t the same. They’d
known going in, the long-distance thing wouldn’t be easy. Knowing it was a
finite period of time had made it tolerable when Zach left Denver in October
and returned to Minneapolis. Beck hadn’t counted on just how tough Zach’s job
might make things.
Beck rubbed his palms
on Zach’s shoulders. “Let’s go get a tree.”
“I don’t need a tree,
as long as I have you.” Zach’s eyes were full of humor.
“Oh, you have me all
right.” That had been true practically from the time they’d gotten reacquainted
in October. After some initial antagonism over the case, fireworks had flown
and ignited a spine-melting heat between them.
“In that case, want
to open presents?”
“But it’s not Christmas for another two days.”
And he hadn’t wrapped Zach’s gift yet.
With a slow smile
Zach said, “Tonight, you’re my present.”
Now that was a
Christmas sentiment Beck could get on board with. He grinned. "Then by all means, let the unwrapping begin."
