Home for the Holidays: Mr Frosty Pants, Mr Naughty List

by Leta Blake

  “Uh-huh,” Courtney said, glancing down at Casey’s chin. She shot him a knowing look and then turned to her sister. “Okay, don’t you need to get going?”

  His mother cursed lightly when she glanced toward the clock on the microwave. “I’ll be back in plenty of time for the party. Don’t you two be late! Do you hear me? Jonathan will do his thunder god impression if Casey isn’t ready when the Ronsons get here.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Courtney said, tossing her hair and smiling sweetly. “Have a good time, Dee. Love you.”

  As soon as the door out to the garage shut on his mother’s back, Courtney grabbed Casey’s hand. “Oh, wow. So, she hasn’t figured out that you’re totally hooking up with that crabby kid?”

  “He’s twenty-two, like me.”

  Her eyes glowed. “Did he grow up hot?”

  “Aunt Courtney,” Casey scolded. “What are you getting at exactly?”

  “Why are you being coy? I’m not stupid like my sister. You’ve spent the last two nights there. You’re not a child anymore. These haven’t been slumber parties. Your old friend Joel is queer as a two-dollar bill, and you’re tapping that.” She frowned. “Do the kids still say ‘tapping that’? Or do they say ‘getting it’? What do you say these days?”

  Casey ignored her question. “I’m in love with him.” His heart giddy-upped in his chest, and a smile broke over his face. He knew he probably looked as silly as he felt, but love was an undeniable emotion.

  “Ah! Well, Deanna will have to put her romantic machinations aside, won’t she?”

  “How bad is it?”

  “The Ronson heir is going to be here tonight. Apparently, you made a good impression on him when you last saw him.” She waggled her brows. “You’ve grown up to be a real man-killer.”

  “Aunt Courtney… Stop.” Casey sighed.

  “Why don’t you just tell your mother what’s really happening with you and this boy?”

  “Because he’s not out. I shouldn’t have even told you.”

  “You didn’t. I guessed.”

  “But I think he’d come out if he was sure of us, or more sure of us. I’m trying to convince him that I’m serious and that this isn’t some kind of holiday fling. I invited him to the party tonight, as my date. As my boyfriend.”

  She gasped. “Oh, my. I mean, yes, you should let your folks know you’re involved before they dig themselves deeper into this Ronson setup, but springing it on them at their Christmas party? With their friends and co-workers, and their boss and his son? Couldn’t you have just told them this morning? The drama that’s going to bring!”

  “Don’t worry, he turned me down. Said there was no way in hell he was going to come to a party where everyone would look down their noses at him.”

  “Smart kid.”

  “He runs his own store. He’s not a child. And I’m not either.”

  “No, no, of course not. I’m just… I remember when you were born, and, to me, you’ll always be that baby. But you’re right. You’re a grown-up now, and you know what you want and who you love. I’m here for you. If things go pear-shaped tonight, or, well, ever? Your Aunt Courtney has your back.”

  His heart swelled with love for her. “Let’s get those shoes.”

  “Hey boss,” Angel sang, following Joel as he entered the store. “I cleaned the drawings off the Blow Mold Nativity scene, like you asked.”

  “Good.” He headed toward the back, hoping she’d already started a pot of coffee because he was feeling bleary-eyed and shaky. Maybe it wasn’t good for the system to get so much touch all at once, especially after years without it.

  “You have a visitor,” Angel said, still following him through the rows of merchandise.

  His heart leapt. Casey? Had he been unable to stay away?

  “My stepbrother.”

  “What?”

  “Ashton.”

  Joel frowned, his lip coming up in a sneer. But just then he rounded the corner and clapped eyes on the most insanely good-looking man he’d ever seen outside of his television screen. The guy picked up a container of rosebush fertilizer and cocked his head, reading the directions on the back carefully.

  “Do the right thing here,” Angel whispered.

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  Just then Ashton turned around. Joel didn’t see any resemblance to Angel, but then he wouldn’t since he was a stepbrother and not related by blood.

  “Hi, I’m Ashton,” the faultless face said from a pair of lush lips surrounded by perfectly sculpted stubble. “Angel said you might be able to help me out.”

  Joel patted his hair, hoping he didn’t look as discombobulated as he felt in the face of gorgeous bright eyes of some indiscernible color between green and gray. “Uh, hi. I’m Joel. Yeah, so how can I help you?”

  Angel giggled behind him, but she scampered off when he pointed toward the register and the customers that had lined up there with purchases in arms.

  “I know this sounds insane, since I literally just met you and all,” Ashton said, blinking long lashes that couldn’t possibly be real, “but I have a problem.” He laughed nervously. “I have to go to this family Christmas party tonight, and I’m in desperate need of a date. That would be you. Hopefully.”

  “Me?” Joel grimaced.

  “Yes, you.” He smiled even brighter. “Angel said you were gay and liberal-minded. Hopefully she’s right.”

  “Angel said… Angel said…” Joel sucked on his teeth and turned to glare toward his employee as she rang up five poinsettias for a small, brunette woman with two strangely well-behaved children.

  Now that Angel knew he was gay, he should have known better than to think she’d keep it a secret. Now it would get out. News of his homosexuality would spread like wildfire in a town the size of Knoxville. Soon all of his customers would be eyeing him strangely—if they even still came in to make their purchases once they knew. They’d all speculate about what he did with other men. He closed his eyes and waited for the panic to hit.

  Instead, a wave of relief seized him, and he felt like his knees might go out.

  Fine. They’d all know. It’d be done and over with. He’d be honest about himself for the first time in his life. He’d be a big giant queer and own it. He would not, however, wear eyeliner, like he was pretty sure Ashton was wearing.

  And was that lip gloss? Christ. Angel was right when she’d called this guy extra.

  Ashton chewed on his shiny, plump lower lip. “God, this was already awkward, but now it’s downright humiliating. You’re not gonna hit me, are you?”

  “Look, I’m…flattered?” Joel cleared his throat and tried again. “Yeah, I’m flattered that you’d ask me as a date to a party—can’t say I really get why, or why you’d even need to ask someone like me when you look like that, but anyway. It doesn’t matter. I’m not—”

  “Has Angel set me up with some kind of humiliating prank?” Ashton’s eyebrow went up.

  “No, I don’t think so.” Joel rubbed a hand over his upper lip. “I’m just not available. I’ve got a—” He swallowed. “I’m involv—” What was he to Casey? Had they declared a relationship yet? He chewed on his lip and laughed under his breath. “Christ, I’m in love with a guy. All right?”

  “Oh, is that all?”

  “And we’re monogamous.” He hoped.

  Ashton’s eyes twinkled as he shrugged. “I understand, and I guess it didn’t hurt to try. Angel did seem overly optimistic about my chances with you.” Ashton laughed. “Oh well, there’s always Grindr. There’s more than one way to lure in a man to solve my problem.”

  Grindr? For a date to a family Christmas party? That seemed chancey. And why did a guy as handsome as Ashton need Grindr or help getting a date anyway? He supposed he’d never know. “Couldn’t you go alone?”

  “My grandma is a total homophobe. This is going to be my last Hudson family party ever because I’m coming out to them all tonight. I’m going for massive emotional explosions. I need some
one to go with me who’d be willing to put on a good show. If you know what I mean?”

  “And Angel thought I was that guy?”

  “She said you have enough grit to survive the family meltdown when I show up with a man on my arm.”

  Maybe Angel was setting him up for the prank, not Ashton. “Yeah, well, sorry. I hope you find someone.”

  “Me too. I want to see my Grandma’s head spin around as Bible verses spew out of her mouth.”

  Joel coughed. “You and Angel have a lot in common. Sure you’re stepsiblings?”

  “Absolutely sure. But she and I get along great.”

  “I see why.”

  Ashton smiled prettily. “Well, thanks for even entertaining the idea. You don’t have any queer friends that might be up for scandalizing old ladies on short notice?”

  “Sorry. I’m not much for friends.”

  Ashton laughed like Joel was joking. “If you fall out of love or find it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, give me a call.” Ashton pushed a card into Joel’s hand. “I’m always up for a quick pull and suck. Or more. I’m easy like that.”

  Then the most handsome man Joel had ever seen in his life swept by him like some kind of six-foot-tall Christmas fairy from a story. Joel shook his head, returned to his quest to find coffee, and considered Ashton’s proposition.

  He wasn’t the least bit tempted. If he was going to cause drama at any Christmas party tonight, it was going to be at Casey’s folks’ party.

  And he’d need a decent tie and shoes.

  Jesus, he was insane for even considering it. Wasn’t he?

  He wondered if he still had shoe polish in one of the unpacked boxes from the old house. It’d be in the one marked for the contents of his father’s closet. There’d be ties in there too. Decent-looking ones, and he had a clean, white button-up and a navy sports jacket he kept ironed in the closet in case he needed to attend a funeral.

  Would Casey’s mother’s head spin when he showed up? And what, if not Bible verses, might spill from her mouth? How did a meltdown look on Casey’s class-obsessed father?

  Maybe it was time to find out.

  Chapter Twenty

  Sneaking into the kitchen and away from his parents’ newly arrived party guests, Casey checked his phone again. He hadn’t heard back from Joel since their last text exchange around five-thirty, and he worried that in Casey’s absence Joel might be getting cold feet about their relationship—or whatever they had now. It made him twitchy.

  His father had hired a trio of classical guitarists from the university’s music program to play from the broad upstairs balcony over the living room. The upbeat, plucky carols, no doubt chosen by his mother for the evening, pattered over the guests, smoothing over the clinking glasses and bursts of laughter like a waterfall of Christmas joy.

  Normally Casey would have enjoyed the infectious spirit of the party, but his phone remained stubbornly still. He read over their text exchanges from the day, trying to see if he’d inadvertently said something to piss Joel off.

  Around noon, after watching Courtney try on fifty-nine thousand pairs of shoes, he’d texted Joel with: I already miss you.

  You’ll be okay. You’re a big boy.

  He’d manfully restrained himself from making a joke about how Joel was gonna feel just how big he really was before too long if he kept begging to get fucked. Instead he’d said: I’m out with Aunt Courtney. She thinks we’re a couple.

  Cool.

  Really? You’re okay with that?

  Sure. Then there’d been a pause and the clarifying question: I mean, if we’re a couple?

  Casey’s heart still flipped over remembering the way his fingers had trembled with excitement as he’d tried to reply quickly. Autocorrect was his enemy, though, and he’d sent: Yes, we’re a coupe.

  Then: Coupe.

  Then: COUPE.

  Then: COUPLE. Damn it, autocorrect.

  Joel had sent a crying-laughing emoji and asked: Spend a lot of time texting about four-door coupes, do you?

  Screw you, Casey replied, but included a winking emoji to make sure Joel knew he was teasing. Autocorrect is demented.

  I know. One time I accidentally texted Angel that we needed to restock deck cleaner, and autocorrect changed it to dick cleaner. I’m lucky she didn’t charge me with sexual harassment.

  He’d replied with his own crying-laughing emoji, and they’d gone radio silent for nearly two hours after that. Casey had felt like he was walking on air the rest of his shopping trip with Courtney, even letting her talk him into buying a new “ugly” Christmas sweater for him to wear to the party. His dad would hate it, which gave him a twist of satisfaction.

  They’d texted lightly off and on for the rest of the day. Then, around five-thirty Joel had texted asking, When does your folks’ party start? Sure you can’t come over after?

  7:30. Sure you can’t come to it? I’d be so proud to introduce you as my boyfriend.

  Joel hadn’t replied after that. Had Casey messed up by pushing the issue of the party? Or was it the word “boyfriend” that had sent Joel running? Or was he just really busy selling Christmas trees to people who’d waited until the very last minute to decorate for the holidays?

  Casey typed in a message and hesitated only a moment before sending it.

  I still miss you.

  He rounded the corner back to the living room and stepped right into Walker Ronson. Their collision sloshed Walker’s wine and narrowly missed staining their clothing.

  “Oh, man. I’m sorry,” Casey said, gripping Walker by the elbow to steady him. “I didn’t see you.”

  “Well, I was hiding in a corner, trying to avoid talking to people, so I can’t blame you for that.”

  “Oh yeah?” The confident young man he’d met at the club for breakfast the other morning didn’t seem like the type to hide from a party. But what did he know? “Not a fan of crowds or just allergic to meaningless chatter?”

  “I’m avoiding my father,” he said, chuckling into his glass. “We don’t agree on many things, but politics we disagree on most of all. He started praising our current president to Nancy Kilmer-Jones from accounting, and I had to make an exit from the room before I said something we’d both regret.” He gave Casey a long once-over. “Nice sweater.”

  Casey glanced down at his newly purchased joke that was only truly meaningful to one other person in the world and smiled. His sweater was blue and white, with a buff, sculpted snowman on the front and the words I’M WITH FROSTY in gold holiday lettering across the chest. It was ridiculously perfect, if a little warm, and he felt closer to Joel just wearing it.

  He should have taken a picture of himself in it and texted that to Joel. It would have said more than his last text message. He met Walker’s eyes and realized he’d never responded to the compliment on his sweater. “Thanks. You look nice too.”

  Walker smiled warmly, his eyes taking on a gleam Casey recognized from many hookups past. “So, is there a private place you and I could go to talk?”

  “No,” Casey said, smiling with as much friendliness as he could muster while shooting down his father’s boss’s son. “Afraid not. We’ll have to just brave the crowd.”

  Walker laughed. “C’mon, Casey. I’m attracted to you, sure, but I’m not talking about anything like that. Let’s just head out to the deck for some fresh air and to escape this endless round of ‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen’. I don’t think these guitarists know when to quit.”

  On the back porch, Casey gazed out across the lake to the Christmas lights lining the edge of the rectangle that was Joel’s trailer. The interior lights were out, and he squinted, trying to see through the darkness, looking for Joel’s Chevy. He leaned against the porch railing as the cold night wind off the water raked through his hair and stung his eyes.

  Walker leaned against railing beside him, his wine glass still grasped loosely in his fingers. He took a sip and murmured, “Nice. Your parents should buy that property across the
way, though. Control the view.”

  Casey pressed his lips together. Circumstances having led to Joel being their backdoor neighbor once again seemed like fate. Separated by a lake instead of a fence this time. He hoped that wasn’t symbolic. And even if it was? He’d deal with it. After all, he could swim.

  “I know earlier I said I was avoiding my father,” Walker murmured, his voice pitched in a decidedly seductive tone that made the hair on Casey’s neck stand up. “Which is true in a way, but I was also looking for you.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I enjoyed our breakfast the other morning, and when your mother let me know that you needed a date for the night, I was happy to fill the spot. But you don’t seem to be in on the fact that I’m your date, so I’m wondering what’s going on.”

  Casey sighed. “Walker, you’re right. I need to clear something up. There’s been a mis—”

  “Casey!” Aunt Courtney’s head thrust through the door from the house, her eyes wide. “You need to come inside. Now.”

  Casey’s heart jolted at the wild seriousness in his aunt’s eyes. “What’s going on?” She didn’t wait to tell him, leaving the door open behind her. “Excuse me. Sorry,” he said to Walker, pushing through into the house. He heard raised voices coming from the entryway as soon as he crossed the threshold. The words were indistinct, muffled by the ongoing chatter and still-playing guitar trio, who were, yes, still doing rounds of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.”

  Casey pushed through the guests, following Courtney’s strawberry-blond head weaving through the crowd. Walker Ronson was at his heels, and as he drew closer to the front entrance, his heart started to race.

  “I was invited. By your son.” Joel’s dark eyes burned in his pale face. His hair was carefully combed and held back with some sort of product. His crooked mouth was set in a frown, and he clutched a bottle of wine. The one Casey had bought for him.

  “Courtney’s trying to find Casey now,” his father said uncomfortably, glaring around the room and not inviting Joel in. Finally, his gaze landed on Casey. “Son, your friend is here.”