The Night Before Christmas: A collection of four short Christmas Eve stories

by Angelique Jurd

  The Night Before Christmas

  A collection of four short Christmas Eve stories

  by

  Angelique Jurd

  The Night Before Christmas Copyright © 2018 by Angelique Jurd. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by May Dawney Designs

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Angelique Jurd

  Visit my website at www.angeliquejurd.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  Published by

  Small Black Cat Media

  2018

  ✽✽✽

  DEDICATION

  With love and gratitude to every reader who has shared the adventure so far

  PARTRIDGE

  (Lucas & Connor)

  “You want a what?” Lucas takes a step back from the bar and looks around for Connor. When he offered to help out tonight, he thought he’d be serving beer and wine. Maybe he’d make some coffee; he’s pretty good on that coffee monstrosity Connor had installed. What he hadn’t counted on was just how busy a gay bar would be on Christmas Eve. Or how many cocktails people would want. He’s been able to hand most of those off to Connor and to Jerry but he can’t see either of them right now. And that is going to be a problem.

  “I want a Jack Frost and a blow job.” Tall, blond, and drunk rests his elbows on the bar. He crooks a finger at Lucas, beckoning him forward. “The first one involves that blue stuff and vodka and the second involves my dick and your mouth.”

  “Okay, Robbie, you’re done for the night.” Connor seems to materialize out of God knows where and lays a hand on Robbie’s shoulder. “I’m calling you an Uber.”

  “Hey! No!” Robbie hiccups. “What’d I do?”

  “You just asked the guy I’m going to marry to give you a blow job. Since I know you wouldn’t do that if you were sober, I’m calling you a car.”

  Wait? Why wouldn’t he do that sober? Doesn’t Connor think he gets hit on? He gets hit on all the time. Well… sometimes. Okay that’s the first time someone’s hit on him in ages and he’s drunk but that’s not the point is it? Lucas hears a sniffle and when he stops worrying about whether Connor thinks he’s cute, realises Robbie’s eyes are looking very wet.

  “I… It’s because Clarke’s not here. They said they were sending him Stateside for Christmas but he’s not here because there’s some stupid delay.”

  Lucas doesn’t know who Clarke is any more than he knows who Robbie is, but clearly Connor does. Maybe Robbie comes in at some weird time of day which is why Lucas doesn’t remember him. For the record, Lucas isn’t jealous, just curious. Either way Lucas is relieved to not have to make a Jack Frost. Or give the guy a blow job for that fact.

  “I’m sorry for hitting on you, Connor’s fiancé. I didn’t mean to.” Robbie scrubs at his eyes and leans on the bar again. Now that he has Connor for back up, Lucas feels a little sorry for the guy. “I might be a little drunk and lonely and you’re very cute.”

  “His name’s Lucas and he is very cute but he’s also mine and your car is here. Come on buddy.”

  Lucas watches as Connor guides Robbie toward the door. Someone raps the counter and when he looks back demands three glasses of chardonnay and two glasses of bourbon. Chardonnay and bourbon, he can handle. No blowjobs required. Good. He can handle that.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Jerry hooks up the new keg and shunts the empty one aside with his foot. Lucas drags it out of the way and leaves it by the kitchen door. He’d take it out the back but the last round of grafts on his side are only a couple of weeks old and Connor will kill him if he tears the skin or muscles.

  “Know how to make an Irish Coffee, baby?” Connor comes around the corner of the bar with a tray of empties and begins sorting them. Glasses and plates to the dishwasher. Bottles and napkins to the plastic bin.

  “Uh coffee with whiskey and cream on top?”

  “Good man. Need four for the table by the door.”

  Lucas reaches for a cup, but Connor stops him with a quick head shake and points to some glass mugs.

  Oh okay. Oh… crap! “I don’t have to do that thing with a spoon and make layers do I?”

  “Nope. Just put the whiskey in the cup, add the coffee, top with whipped cream. Good to go.”

  Lucas starts grinding coffee beans and studies the top shelf. Squirms when Connor brushes the back of his neck with a kiss.

  “Use the house bottle, babe.” He winks and disappears into the crowd with his tray of drinks.

  Slotting the portafilter into place on the coffee machine, Lucas looks around for the whiskey. He knows which one Connor means but has no clue where it is. The normally clean and tidy bar area is chaotic. Connor really needs more help in here regardless of what he says. At least on nights like tonight. Lucas twist to look at the time on the old clock hanging over the bar. Still two more hours to go until ten and then they’ve got to get everyone out of here and clean up. With a sigh he bangs the second portafilter into place and reaches for the whiskey. Each glass mug gets a double shot, then is placed beneath the portafilter. He lets the double pump of espresso settle in each one, then tops them off with a swirl of whipped cream. After a moment’s hesitation he drops two coffee beans on top of the whipped cream and lifts each mug onto a tray.

  “Nifty.” Jerry nods in apparent approval as he takes the tray. “Connor should hire you.”

  “He’s marrying me. Does that count?”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The sound of breaking glass cuts through the babble of the crowd and Connor groans. It’s not the breakage that bothers him – although it doesn’t thrill him – it’s trying to clean it up with all these people. He hands the young couple in the corner their drinks and waits while one of the guys digs for cash. Smiles and thank him when he tells him to keep the change, then turns on his heel and heads for the back room. Lucas meets him half way with the bucket and mop, plastic brush and shovel under his arm to get the glass. Connor tries to take it from him and he shakes his head.

  “I’ve got it. You keep serving.” He tilts his chin in the direction of the breakage. “This I know how to handle.”

  Ducking around a couple doing a tipsy bump and grind, reminding them it’s not a strip bar, he gathers up glasses to take back to the bar.

  “You should get go-go dancers,” someone calls.

  “Not happening,” Connor yells back. In truth he’s been toying with the idea of making Thursdays a cabaret style night. He’d have no trouble getting the permits, it would appeal to the regulars, and attract new people. Of course, he still needs to talk it over with Lucas and run the numbers and … holy hell, what is that noise coming from the bathroom?

  “Uh boss,” Jerry leans over the bar and jerks his head toward the toilets, “you wanna deal with that?”

  “Not really.” Connor drop the tray of glasses on the bar and rubs his eyes. Damn it, is it ten yet? He looks at the clock. No still forty-five minutes to go.

  “Above my pay grade, dude.” Jerry flicks his pink and orange hair over his shoulder. Grins.

  Mutt
ering to himself about shutting next Christmas Eve like any sane person would do, Connor storms into the bathroom. There’s a guy at the urinal and two washing their hands, all grinning at the noise coming from one of the stalls. Loud moaning and some very graphic encouragement that Connor’s pretty damned sure he’s heard in almost every porno he’s seen. Not to mention the fact that they’re making the door they’re leaning against shudder and jump. Connor pounds on the door.

  “Knock it the fuck off and get out of there.” Silence fills the bathroom, only to be broken by a ragged moan as one of the stall occupants obviously reaches the finish line. “Out! Now!”

  “Dude, just gimme a min –”

  “Now!” He’d feel sorry for the guy but he’s tired and would very much like to be finished and at home with Lucas making him moan instead of doing this. Behind him the three other occupants slip out the door, sniggering and whispering.

  After a minute the stall door swings open and the couple exit. One has short red hair and a very smug grin; Connor guesses he’s the moaner. The other, tall and dark, is scowling and has a slight limp. Connor pokes the red head in the chest.

  “Take him home and make it up to him because if you hadn’t been so fucking loud, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He points to the door. “And next time keep it in your pants until you are home.” He folds his arms and waits for them to exit, then braces himself, and goes into the stall to inspect and make sure he doesn’t need to scrub the damned walls down. Thankfully there’s nothing but wadded up toilet paper in the bowl. Connor flushes it away, goes out and washes his hands.

  When he returns to the bar, he’s relieved to see the crowd is starting to thin. Jerry is packing the glass sterilizer and Lucas looks as though he’s making more Irish coffee. He joins him behind the coffee machine and peers at his face.

  “How are you feeling? Not too tired?”

  Lucas rolls his eyes and sighs. “I’m fine. I told you I would be fine and I am. Stop fussing.”

  “How’s your side?”

  “Read my lips. I’m fine.”

  Connor snorts and walks around him to take some glasses off the bar and begins rinsing them. “Can think of a lot of other things I’d rather do with your lips.”

  “Boss. Innocent ears down here.” Jerry gives him a pained look that Connor doesn’t buy.

  “Oh please. Do I look that stupid?” Connor points at him when he looks like he’s about to reply. “Think of your bonus before you answer that.”

  Lucas stretches past him and takes a tray. A wave of emotion – love, lust, and fatigue all rolled together – engulfs Connor and he wants nothing more than to chase everyone out and bury himself body and soul in this man. To hold him and love him with every breath and fiber of his being. Make him cry out and tremble before holding him close to his chest while they both sleep for a month. For now, he contents himself with pressing his lips to Lucas' neck, scraping his teeth over the warm skin, and breathing in his scent. When he straightens up, Lucas cocks an eyebrow and gives him a quizzical smile. Connor shrugs and pulls him into a real kiss, ignoring the catcalls from the crowd. Scarlet cheeked and breathless Lucas breaks away.

  “We’ll be here all night if you keep distracting me.”

  Connor waves him away and picks up a glass. Takes an order. As he makes the requested White Russian, he watches Lucas move through the crowd. He’s gained some weight and his eyes no longer have black shadows beneath them. It’s been weeks since he had a really bad night. It fills Connor with warmth to think he has something to do with that. To know he helped chase the sadness from his eyes.

  He glances at the clock again. Nearly ten. Hopefully Mike has managed to let himself into the apartment and deliver the gift Connor has chosen for Lucas. Hopefully Lucas will like it.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Lucas hugs Jerry. “Have a good Christmas.”

  “Yeah, Merry Christmas, happy holidays, blah blah blah.” Jerry nods at Connor turning the lights off “Make him rest, will you?”

  Lucas snorts. Yeah, they both know how that’s going to work out. Connor joins them, sliding his arms around Lucas' waist. He relaxes back into the embrace, grimacing at the dampness of their shirts. They probably both stink, not that he can tell. All he can smell is coffee and alcohol.

  “Go home. Love your man under the tree. Make your cat blush.” Connor's voice is muffled against Lucas' neck. The circles he’s drawing with the tip of tongue are distracting and Lucas squirms away before he embarrasses them all.

  Jerry disappears into the night as Connor locks up. Cabs and Ubers are all overloaded and they decide to walk the few blocks to the apartment. The air is cold but not unpleasant after the stuffiness of the crowded bar. Slipping his hand into Connor’s, Lucas clears his throat as they begin to walk.

  “I had an idea.”

  “Mmmmm?” Fatigue surrounds Connor like a cloak, making his reply soft and distant. For a second Lucas hesitates. “What was your idea babe?”

  “How would you feel if I cut my hours back at work and helped out at the bar?”

  “Why?” Oh. That isn’t what he was expecting. Doesn’t Connor want him to help out? Connor squeezes his hand. “Not what I meant. You could probably double our income with your Irish Coffee alone. Why do you want to cut back your hours?”

  “Well I hate my job for a start.” Actually saying it out loud finally, Lucas realizes just how much he hates his work. “And I’d like to help with the bar. I mean if you wanted me to. I could just get another job I guess and I’m not very good with cocktails and things, but I love making coffee and -”

  “And you’re babbling.” Connor has stopped walking and is studying him with an amused gaze.

  “It’s just an idea,” Lucas rushes to add. “The bar is yours, I know, and I don’t want you to feel like I’m trying to …unfff.”

  He’s silenced with a kiss.

  “Lucas, I always planned to have your name put on the lease. I just didn’t want you or anyone else to think I was doing it for the money.”

  “By anyone you mean my mom?” Lucas brushes the half-hearted protest aside and starts walking again. A light snow has begun to fall, and he wants to get inside before it gets worse. “I want to help. I don’t want to step on your toes, it’s your bar, but I want to help.”

  “It’s our bar, sweetheart.” Connor lets go of his hand and sweeps his arm around his shoulders. “And it’s making more than enough to cover our expenses without your salary if you want some time to decide what you want to do, but are you sure you want to work in it? No, don’t make it about me. What do you want?”

  Lucas leans into his side, aware he’s limping a little and not wanting Connor to notice. What does he want? He wants to leave his job. He wants to build something with Connor. He wants …

  “I don’t think I’m ever going to be as good behind the bar as you or Jerry. I like making the coffee and I can handle the wine and beer list. But I’d really like to get a handle on the business side.”

  They cross the road toward their building and as they climb the steps, Connor nods.

  “Okay let’s kick it around and see what we come up with then.”

  Lucas tugs off a glove and keys the security code into the front door. Holds it open for Connor then follows him inside. In the elevator, he rests his head on Connor’s shoulder and covers a yawn with the back of his hand.

  “How sore are you? And don’t bother denying it, I saw you limping.”

  Damn it! Why can he never hide anything from Connor? There’s not even any point trying to protest.

  “About a six. Nothing a pain killer, a hot shower, and climbing into bed won’t cure.”

  The elevator doors swoosh open and arm in arm they make their way down the hall. At the door, Lucas pulls his keys from his coat pocket, but Connor closes his hand over them.

  “Before we go in, I have to tell you something.”

  Lucas frowns. What the hell? What does he have to tell him that can’t w
ait until they’re inside? He’s cold and wants a shower and he’s just remembered there’s some left-over fettucine in the fridge. Nope, apparently it can’t wait; Connor is now standing between him and the door.

  “I got you something. For Christmas and your mom and dad helped me hide it. Your dad brought it over a little while ago.” Connor’s face has taken on a pale green tinge and Lucas starts to worry. “I hope you like it. I like it and I think you will too and Mike, that is your dad, said you would and –”

  Okay this is weird. Connor doesn’t get nervous. Not like this.

  “I know who Mike is. What exactly did you get me?”

  Connor fidgets and bites his lip, hand still hovering over Lucas’. Even when he proposed he wasn’t this nervous. Waits for Connor to answer him.

  “It’ll be easier to show you.” Connor takes the key and slots in the lock. Turns back toward him. “Promise you won’t be mad.”

  “Um okay. Can we go inside now? I’m cold.”

  That gets Connor moving, just as Lucas knew it would. He unlocks the door and pushes it open. From the depts of the apartment comes a whimper and then the sound of scratching. What the hell?

  “I asked your dad to put her in the office.”

  Wait. What? Her? What sort of her are they talking about? Lucas lets Connor pull him down the hallway toward the spare room they’ve converted into an office. The door which is always open…isn’t. The scratching increases and Connor opens the door.

  Before Lucas can say anything a bundle of fawn fur, made up as far as Lucas can tell, of paws, a tail, and some ears, canon balls into their legs and sits down with a small ‘whump.’

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  “If you think it’s a Great Dane puppy then yes.” Connor looks worried. “That is what you thought right?”

  “Dork.” Lucas crouches down, ignoring the twinge in his leg. The puppy licks his hand and clambers onto his knee. “Does she have a name?”