by Elle Keaton
Jaime answered her own question. “The people around this table are some my best friends in Hollyridge, Dag’s too. I don’t know your sons as well as Zach and Jeff, Bennett’s kind of a quiet guy and this is the first time I’ve met Elliot, but we were honored to be invited and not having to cook is a bonus. Wyatt has been teasing me about his cooking skills since he started working for us, there was no way we were missing this.”
Bennett’s dad finished chewing the bite of biscuit he’d popped into his mouth. “These biscuits are incredible. Nancy, you should try one.” Which was the closest Bennett had ever seen his dad come to telling his mom to be quiet. Maybe there was something to the way to a person’s heart being through their stomach.
“The biscuits were my grandmother’s recipe,” Wyatt offered, “and so are the brussels sprouts.”
His dad took another biscuit, placing it on his mom’s plate. “Here you are, try it with that spicy butter.” He looked across the table at Bennett. “Thank you for having us, son.”
By nine, everyone had left, and the house was quiet again. Regardless of her claim about not doing dishes, Jaime and Dag had insisted on helping them clean up. So, by the time all the guests had departed, the kitchen was almost back to normal and the few leftovers tucked into the fridge. Zach and Jeff were the last to leave, taking Jura with them. Both dogs were so exhausted, Wicket had barely raised his head from his dog bed in the living room to say good-bye to his friend.
Wyatt flopped dramatically onto the couch, throwing his forearm over his eyes. “That was exhausting. I’m so tired, why did we do that?”
Bennett grinned, taking in his boyfriend’s long, lean form draped over the cushions. “I think you were trying to either piss my mom off or impress her and I think you managed to do both.”
“Yeah? And you asked me to move in with you, in front of everybody.”
Once he made sure the front door was locked, Bennett crossed the room and climbed onto the couch with Wyatt. They didn’t both fit very well, so Bennett decided to simply lie on top of his boyfriend—not a hardship.
“I did.” Bennett nuzzled Wyatt’s exposed neck, nibbling on his collar bone before heading up to his earlobe. He tasted a bit floury, which made Bennett smile.
“For real?”
Bennett lifted himself up onto his elbows, tugging Wyatt’s arm off his face so he could see his eyes.
“You didn’t just offer because everybody was listening?” Wyatt had an uncertainty to his voice that Bennett was not used to hearing.
“Wyatt Reeser, now that we’re alone and no one is listening, except possibly Wicket who I suppose might have a stake in this too—would you please to do honor of officially moving in with me? You make all the things that I think are difficult about my life easier.”
“Yes, Bennett Meyer, I will officially move in with you.” Wyatt wrapped his arms around Bennett’s neck and pulled him back down. “What made you ask though? I basically snuck all my stuff in during harvest and moved myself in anyway.” He shot Bennett a glance from underneath his thick lashes. “I should be sorry for that, but I’m not.”
Bennett grinned. “I asked because I’ve spent the last couple of weeks paranoid I would come home someday soon and find you gone. I thought this was a harvest hookup or something.”
“What the hell is a harvest hookup?” Wyatt demanded, his arms still around Bennett’s neck.
“So many questions.” Bennett leaned in and pressed his lips against Wyatt’s, which parted, letting Bennett’s tongue slide inside. Just kissing lazily like this had Bennett’s body responding, and he could feel Wyatt’s erection against his hip. Wyatt released a tiny whisper of a moan. “Bennett.”
Reluctantly Bennett rolled off the couch, offering a hand to Wyatt. “Let’s go to bed. Tomorrow we’ll move the rest of your things in. And maybe we can shop for a tree.”
“A tree! Together?” The way Wyatt’s eyes lit up Bennett almost wondered which he was more excited for, moving in the rest of his belongings or finding a Christmas tree.
“Do you want to get one? We don’t have to.”
“Yes, dammit, I want to get a tree. But right now, I need to get you in bed so I can ravage you.”
“Ravage? Where do you come up with this stuff?” Bennett chuckled as Wyatt dragged him down the hallway to his—their—bedroom.
“I may have read the romance novels my mom left lying around the apartment. They filled me with ideas, ravaging is one of them. After my Legolas period I moved on to pirates.”
“Let me guess… Johnny Depp.”
“Well, yes, the man is unfortunately good-looking. But…” they rounded the bedroom door and Wyatt dropped Bennett’s hand to lift his T-shirt up and over his head. Bennett loved Wyatt’s lean body, his smooth chest and abs that were extremely ticklish. “I also have my own idea of a pirate.” He waggled his dark eyebrows as he pushed his jeans down along with his boxer briefs.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Wyatt crawled into the bed, not bothering to pull down the comforter, and turned to lay on his back. “Pirate…”
The way he enunciated pirate had Bennett’s cock rock hard almost instantly, he was lucky he didn’t get dizzy.
“I thought you were too tired,” he said after he’d stripped and climbed onto the bed, lowering himself onto Wyatt.
“I’m never too tired to play pirate.”
Wyatt’s wicked smile and playful eyes were his, and Bennett was the luckiest man in the world.
Epilogue
Wyatt
One year later
“So, do you think Wicket will spend the next three weeks barking at the Christmas tree?” Wyatt wondered out loud.
Last year they’d gone to a local scout lot and picked out a tree which, considering it was a tree and would only last a few weeks, had taken a ridiculous amount of time. Bennett had opinions when it came to Christmas trees. Not too tall; full, but not too full; no twisty branches; etcetera, etcetera. Wyatt was drawn to the sad trees, the ones that leaned and maybe had a big hole in one side along with some scraggly limbs. They’d compromised and this year it was Wyatt’s turn to get last say.
Bennett chuckled as he parked in the lot between another pickup and a SUV.
“I guess we’ll find out.”
Wyatt climbed out of the cab, pulling his jacket around him and a knit cap further down on his head. There was a wicked wind today, but that wasn’t stopping him from picking out a tree. Wicket yipped his displeasure at being left on the seat, so Wyatt snapped his leash onto his collar and set him down on the ground.
Last year after they’d dragged the tree into the house and set it up, Wicket had lost his little doggy mind. From the first minute he laid eyes on the beautiful blue spruce, he’d hated it, and spent his waking hours barking and growling at it. Bennett had thought once they decorated the tree, he’d calm down, but the sparkling lights and decorations made no difference. In Wicket’s world, trees were not meant to be inside.
Wyatt had come up with a solution, he hoped; Wicket was going to pick out the tree this year.
“Let’s go see what they’ve got,” Wyatt announced, wrapping the end of Wicket’s leash around his wrist and stepping over the cement parking barrier to reach Bennett.
This year they were shopping at Wyatt’s favorite Christmas tree lot. The family who owned the tree farm had built it up over the years and aside from trees they offered cider and hot chocolate, fresh wreaths, and cheesy holiday music. Wicket happily led the way, sniffing and snuffing his way along the pathways between the trees.
“This is going to take forever,” Bennett grumbled.
“You got somewhere better to be?” Wyatt teased.
“At home, still in bed.”
Wyatt lifted his wrist looking at an imaginary watch, “Dude, it’s nearly noon. You don’t sleep past eight.”
Bennett slung one arm over Wyatt’s shoulders, tucking him in close to his side. His lips brushed against Wyatt’s ear and he rumb
led, “I’m not thinking about sleeping, Wyatt.”
Wyatt’s cock immediately reacted, making him stumble, but, of course, Bennett didn’t let him fall.
They were at the back of the lot deep in what Bennett called “pathetic tree land” when Wicket started barking and wildly wagging his tail.
“Hush, Wicket, you’re going to get us thrown out of the tree lot!” Wyatt scolded. The dog was acting as if he recognized someone, but Wyatt only saw bundled-up fellow tree shoppers ahead lifting a tree from the rack, twirling it, and generally deciding it wasn’t good enough. They plopped the tree back where it had come from and headed around the corner.
“There was nothing wrong with that tree,” Wyatt hissed, as they drew closer to the rejected sheered pine.
“Let’s look over here.” Bennett said, tugging Wyatt along.
“But—fine, we’ll come back to that one.”
The couple ahead rounded a corner heading to where a group of shoppers had paused by a particularly depressed tree. Its top was so twisted that no star or other ornament would fit on it, and, even from half a row away, Wyatt could see it was missing random branches and needles were dropping from it like rats fleeing a sinking ship. He looked closer at the people who appeared to be guarding the forlorn conifer; Wicket yipped and charged, pulling free of Wyatt’s grip and racing to greet… Jordan?
“What’s Jordan doing here?” He took in the rest of the crowd: Zach, Jeff, Jason, Bennett’s brother Elliot, and his mom. The couple they’d followed turned to be Jaime and Dag. The hell?
“What is everyone doing here?” Wyatt glanced at Bennett. “Did I miss something? Are we going out for brunch?”
Bennett gave him a wobbly smile; instead of answering, he dropped down to one knee in front of him. “Wyatt Reeser, I know I’m no Legolas or Jack Sparrow. Regardless of my failings, would you do the honor of marrying me?” He dug into his coat pocket, pulled out a small square box, and popped it open. Inside, a set of plain silver rings glittered in the winter sunshine.
Wyatt eyes widened. He opened his mouth and shut it again. He was going to cry, there was no way for him to stop the tears from falling. Bennett gazed up at him waiting for his answer, his sky-blue eyes full of love and trust and also, hope. Jesus, Wyatt was a lucky man.
“Yes, Bennett Meyer,” Wyatt finally managed, the threatened tears spilling down his cheeks. His voice was raspy, but he got the words out. “Yes, I will marry you.”
Their friends cheered and whistled as Wyatt took Bennett’s hand and pulled him up to plant a big fat mushy kiss on his fiancé. Wicket barked and spun in a circle in appropriate doggy celebration.
“Give me your hand,” Bennett said. Wyatt complied and Bennett slipped the heavy silver band onto his ring finger; the weight of it felt perfect.
“I love you, Bennett, I can’t believe you set this up,” Wyatt whispered, pressing his face into Bennett’s neck and breathing in his unique scent.
Bennett grumbled, his breath tickling Wyatt’s ear, “Now we just need to get rid of them so we can celebrate properly.”
Yes, there will be more stories from Hollyridge! Keep your eyes peeled for the next one coming spring 2020.
Did you miss Love Limited Edition, first in the Hollyrdige series? Will bookish magic, an adorable dog, and a little assistance from their friends, help Brett and Rory realize the world is what you make of it, that a chance at happiness is something to be seized, not tossed aside?
Check out the first in my Hamarsson and Dempsey romantic suspense series, Conspiracy Theory. A jaded big city detective and a small town Sheriff meet again…murder brings Niall and Mat together, will it tear them apart?
Don’t miss my Accidental Roots Series, beginning with Storm Season, Death brings him home, will love keep him there? Agent Adam Klay is home to bury his father, not fall in love. Storm Season is a dual POV about a terminally grouchy Federal Agent who discovers his softer side and a sweet man who thought he had nothing to live for.
A Thank You From Elle
If you enjoyed Love Finds a Home, I would greatly appreciate if you would let your friends know so they can experience Wyatt, Bennett and the rest of the gang. As with all of my books, I have enabled lending on all platforms in which it is allowed to make it easy to share with a friend. If you leave a review for Love Finds a Home or any of my books. on the site from which you purchased the book, Goodreads or your own blog, I would love to read it! Email me the link at [email protected]
Keep up-to-date with new releases and sales, The Highway to Elle hits your in-box approximately every two weeks, sometimes more sometimes less. I include deals, freebies and new releases as well as a sort of rambling running commentary on what this author’s life is like. I’d love to have you aboard! I also have a reader group called the Highway to Elle, come say hi!
About Elle
Elle hails from the northwest corner of the US known for, rain, rain, and more rain. She pens the Accidental Roots series, the Hamarsson and Dempsey series, and Home in Hollyridge all set in the Pacific Northwest. Elle is chief cook and bottle washer, the one always asking ‘where are my keys and/or wallet’ and ‘why are there cats?’ (This question not yet answered).
Elle loves both cats and dogs, Star Wars and Star Trek, pineapple on pizza, and is known to start crossword puzzles with ballpoint pen.
Thank you for supporting this Indie Author,
Elle
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Converse, Chevrolet, Ford, Levi and Wrangler. Wyatt and Bennett would be shoeless, pantless and truckless without you.