Winter Ball

by Amy Lane

  Richie looked at him, eyes wide. “Oh, Skip—I think that would be… I mean, not easy, because… you know….”

  “Gay. I hear you. But it’s getting easier, right? But that’s not for a while. I’m sorry, I interrupted. Tell me what you want. And it’s not to wear a suit or a polo shirt or any shit like that.”

  Richie nodded excitedly. “See? You hit it on the head. I think I need to ditch the suit and go get me a real job.”

  Five days before Christmas Eve, he went out wearing a nice sweater and jeans. He showed up at Skip’s work just in time to meet Skip and Carpenter as they left the building for lunch. He was so excited he was hopping on his toes. He’d gotten a job managing an auto parts store, making twice as much as he’d made for his father.

  Skip picked him up—just scooped him up and whirled him around in front of Tesko. Richie held out his arms and pretended to fly, and just as Carpenter was snapping a picture that he swore he was sending to his parents, a good-looking guy with silver wings in his dark hair wearing a suit that probably cost Skip’s mortgage walked past them.

  He paused as Skip let Richie slide down to the touch the ground, though, and Skip caught his gaze and blushed.

  “Schipperke!” Mason said, genuine enthusiasm in his voice. “And this must be Richie?”

  “Yessir,” Skip said, happy. “Come meet him. Richie, this is Mason—”

  “Gentleman Caller,” Richie said dryly, since they’d taken to calling him that before the chance meeting on the golf course. “Pleased to meet you.” He stepped forward to shake hands, though, and Mason smiled at him pleasantly.

  “Yeah—it’s good to see you here. Last time we talked, Skip was missing you something fierce.”

  Richie’s smile was unguarded, so broad it was almost goofy. “Well, we live together now, so I’m lucky he’s not sick of me.”

  Mason inclined his head and met Skip’s eyes gravely. “Good,” he said softly. “You… Richie, you keep hold of this one. He’s a good one.”

  Richie nodded. “You think I don’t know that?” Richie looked up at Skip with what Skip could only call adoration, and Skip blushed. “He’s the best one.” He smiled at Mason guilelessly. “Which you probably guessed since you kept trying to hit on him.”

  Mason laughed. “True story. But now I’ve got no more excuses.”

  “Nossir, I don’t suppose you do. This one’s mine. Get your own.”

  Carpenter let out a slow guffaw behind them, and Skip blushed. “Uhm, Richie, that’s not necessary. Mason?”

  “Yeah, Schipperke?”

  “Oh God—I’m going to start yapping when you do that. I was just thinking—I mean, you said your folks were back east this Christmas and it was you and Dane. You, er, you’re both welcome to our place Christmas Eve. We’ve got a bunch of guys from our soccer club, and their girlfriends, and Jefferson’s mother—”

  “I did not know she was coming,” Carpenter said, sounding impressed. “Well done, Skipper. Jefferson will love you forever.”

  “Yeah, well, he wanted to get out of the house,” Skip said, remembering their brief, intense conversation after the game—and their time at Disneyland, when Jefferson had seemed to need to be free and happy almost as bad as Richie.

  “So, party at your place?” Mason said, interrupting wistfully.

  It was almost like he needed friends.

  Well, Skipper knew the feeling. “Absolutely. Call me after lunch, okay? I’ll give you the address. Dates welcome—it’s a small place, but we’re friendly.”

  And Mason Hayes, erstwhile pain in Skip’s ass, became a friend. “Well, it’s good to have friends,” he said, shaking on it. “I’ll get your details after lunch. Now go—you’re going to be late!”

  “Yessir!”

  They took off at a jog then, and Carpenter kept up. A slicing, soaring wind swooped out of the sky and between the buildings, and Skip, who was in the lead, was just so damned happy that he spread his arms like wings and whooped like a little kid flying down the sidewalk.

  As he approached the sandwich place, he looked into the plate glass and saw Richie and Carpenter behind him, arms outstretched too. He laughed as he grabbed the door, and gave them crap for being his flock of loons, but the truth was, he felt like a real Skipper.

  Somehow he’d sailed his team to a really happy place.

  SO THEY had company, and something to celebrate come Christmas Eve. They gave their guests bread baskets (with more bread) and cookies, and it turned out that the fire pit and the outdoor furniture had been a really good idea. The lot of them ended up outside roasting marshmallows, singing Christmas songs quietly into the night. Carpenter crashed on the couch—he was going to visit his family in the morning—but everybody else went home, and Skip and Richie were left whispering in the quiet of their room deep into the night.

  “So Jefferson was interesting,” Richie said, eyes alight in the glow from the strings of Christmas lights coming in through the window.

  “What was interesting about Jefferson?” Skip asked, yawning.

  “He and Mason were totally flirting!”

  Skip grunted. “Bullshit! Jefferson’s not gay!”

  Richie laughed, low and gurgling, probably trying not to wake Carpenter. “Oh yeah, and I’m sure he said the same thing about us for, like, years.”

  Skip thought about it and chuckled. “Well, yeah. But we were gay. We just didn’t know it.”

  “We knew it,” Richie said, nodding. “Every time I think about that conversation in the car and how you thought you just didn’t get hard—man, that was a big lie. You were just undressing the wrong people with your mind, that’s all.”

  Skip’s grin was not going away. “Yeah, right. So now I’m a horndog and I won’t leave you alone. You complaining?”

  Richie shook his head and buried his face in the comforter, apparently too happy about their sex lives over this past month to even pretend it hadn’t been awesome. “Not complaining,” he said, voice dropping. Then: “So when do we put out Carpenter’s present?”

  They’d gotten him brand-new shin guards and pads, because he’d been wearing Skip’s old gear for the whole season. They’d also gotten him a soccer ball with little hamburgers over it, so he could take comfort in the fact that they knew him for his weaknesses and still loved him.

  “Give it another half hour,” Skip said. “And let me go—”

  “’Cause you’ve got a gift for me you want to put under the tree,” Richie said, nodding.

  Skip grunted. “It’s nothing that big.” It wasn’t, really—some books with home improvement ideas, and two tickets to go skiing in February, because home improvement was great but sometimes going someplace fun was good too.

  Richie smiled beatifically, like a little kid, and stroked Skip’s cheek with that one knuckle. “It’ll be great. You’re good at gifts. Everybody loved the baskets with the cookies and the bread.”

  Skip caught his hand and kissed all the knuckles. “Well, it’s fun to give presents. Fun to have someone to give them to.”

  Richie sobered. “It’s okay, right? The thing I got for you?” he asked for the umpteenth time. He’d actually talked it over with Skip, because he’d been afraid Skip would be depressed or disappointed or something. “I mean, I know you wanted a dog, but I figured I’d get you… you know, dog trappings, and we could go find a dog at the shelter and sort of fall in love with him.”

  He moved so he could rest his head on Skip’s shoulder, and Skip toyed with his recently shorn ringlets. Oh how he hoped Richie would let it grow long again, now that he was starting his job on the twenty-sixth.

  “No, that’s fine,” Skip whispered back. His chest was filled with the most delicious sort of contentment, the sort of suffused sweetness that was definitely not the marshmallows. “That’s a really good idea.”

  “You think?” Richie rolled over and propped his chin up with his fist, regarding Skip intently, and their chattering over Christmas suddenly became very serious.
Skip had known—even though Richie hadn’t said a word—that he’d been hoping his father would relent and show up tonight after all. Ike hadn’t shown and Richie hadn’t complained, but it was the sort of hurt Skipper couldn’t take away.

  This worry, though. This worry, he could definitely manage.

  “Yeah,” Skip said decisively. “You know, we can get to know a dog really, really well before we bring him home. Sort of like with us.”

  “With us?” In the glow from the Christmas lights out front, Skip could see Richie’s lips twitch.

  “Yeah. We knew each other really well before we decided to play house, so we’ll do that with a dog.”

  Richie squinted at him. “I’m not sure if you’re kidding or not.”

  Skip laughed, not sure himself. “It worked out,” he said, eyes twinkling.

  “Yeah,” Richie said with some satisfaction. “It did. Merry Christmas, Skip. Here’s to rec league soccer and a brand-new year.”

  “And to teammates who play for the other team,” Skip said, knowing he was earning himself a pillow smack in the head.

  Richie kissed him instead, and that was even better.

  More from Amy Lane

  A Tale of the Curious Cookbook

  Emmett Gant was planning to tell his father something really important one Sunday morning—but his father passed away first. Now, nearly three years later, Emmett can’t seem to clear up who he should be with—the girl with the apple cheeks and the awesome family, or his snarky neighbor, Keegan, who never sees his family but who makes Emmett really happy just by coming over to chat.

  Emmett needs clarity.

  Fortunately for Emmett, his best friend’s mom has a cookbook that promises to give Emmett insight and good food, and Emmett is intrigued. After the cookbook follows him home, Emmett and Keegan decide to make the recipe “For Clarity,” and what ensues is both very clear—and a little surprising, especially to Emmett’s girlfriend. Emmett is going to have to think hard about his past and the really important thing he forgot to tell his father if he wants to get the recipe for love just right.

  When Teyth was but a child, a cruel prince took over his village, building a great granite tower to rule over the folk. Greedy and capricious, the man will be the bane of Teyth’s existence as an adult, but as a boy, Teyth is too busy escaping his stepfather to worry about his ruler.

  Sold into apprenticeship to the local blacksmith, Teyth finds that what was meant as a punishment is actually his salvation. Cairsten, the smith, and Diarmuid, his adopted son, are kind, and the smithy is the prosperous heart of a thriving village. As Teyth grows in the craft of metalwork, he also grows in love for Diarmuid, the gentle, clever young man who introduces him to smithing.

  Their prince wants Diarmuid too. As the tyrant inflicts loss upon loss on Teyth and Diarmuid, Teyth’s passion for his craft twists into obsession. By the time Teyth resurfaces from his quest to create immortality, he’s nearly lost the love that makes being human worth the pain. Teyth was born to sculpt his emotion into metal, and Diarmuid was born to lead. Together, can they keep their village safe and sustain the love that will make them immortal?

  A Candy Man Book

  Adam Macias has been thrown a few curve balls in his life, but losing his VA grant because his car broke down and he missed a class was the one that struck him out. One relative away from homelessness, he’s taking the bus to Sacramento, where his cousin has offered a house-sitting job and a new start. He has one goal, and that’s to get his life back on track. Friends, pets, lovers? Need not apply.

  Finn Stewart takes one look at Adam as he’s applying to Candy Heaven and decides he’s much too fascinating to leave alone. Finn is bright and shiny—and has never been hurt. Adam is wary of his attention from the very beginning—Finn is dangerous to every sort of peace Adam is forging, and Adam may just be too damaged to let him in at all.

  But Finn is tenacious, and Adam’s new boss, Darrin, doesn’t take bullshit for an answer. Adam is going to have to ask himself which is harder—letting Finn in or living without him? With the holidays approaching it seems like an easy question, but Adam knows from experience that life is seldom simple, and the world seldom cooperates with hope, faith, or the plans of cats and men.

  A Candy Man Book

  Rico Gonzalves-Macias didn’t expect to fall in love during his internship in New York—and he didn’t expect the boss’s son to out them both and get him fired either. When he returns to Sacramento stunned and heartbroken, he finds his cousin, Adam, and Adam’s boyfriend, Finn, haven’t just been house-sitting—they’ve made his once sterile apartment into a home.

  When Adam gets him a job interview with the adorable, magnetic, practically perfect Derek Huston, Rico feels especially out of his depth. Derek makes it no secret that he wants Rico, but Rico is just starting to figure out that he’s a beginner at the really important stuff and doesn’t want to jump into anything with both feet.

  Derek is a both-feet kind of guy. But he’s also made mistakes of his own and doesn’t want to pressure Rico into anything. Together they work to find a compromise between instant attraction and long-lasting love, and while they’re working, Rico gets a primer in why family isn’t always a bad idea. He needs to believe Derek can be his family before Derek’s formidable patience runs out—because even a practically perfect boyfriend is capable of being hurt.

  Johnnies: Book Four

  John Carey is just out of rehab and dying inside when he gets word that Tory, the guy who loved him and broke him, has removed himself from the world in the most bitter way possible—and left John to clean up his mess.

  Forced back to his hometown in Florida, John’s craving a hit with every memory when he meets Tory’s neighbor. Spacey and judgmental, Galen Henderson has been rotting in his crappy apartment since a motorcycle accident robbed him of his mobility, his looks, and his boyfriend all in one mistake. Galen’s been hiding at the bottom of an oxy bottle, but when John shows up, he feels obligated to help wade through the wreckage of Tory’s life.

  The last thing John needs is another relationship with an addict, and the last thing Galen wants is a conscience. Both of them are shocked when they find that their battered souls can learn from and heal one another. It doesn’t hurt that they’re both getting a crash course on how growing up and getting past your worst mistakes sure beats the alternative—and that true love is something to fight to keep if your lover is fighting to love you back.

  Readers love Amy Lane

  Immortal

  “…a fantastically rendered story of an extraordinary passion that echoes beyond the mortal world.”

  —Joyfully Jay

  “…a gorgeous novel, eloquent in its joy and sorrow, hopeful in its promise of forever, meaningful in the way of fairy tales that teach us we are each the crucibles of love, and love is the conqueror of hate.”

  —The Novel Approach

  Candy Man

  “Oh God…. I friggin LOVE Amy Lane!!! This book broke my heart wide open, and then filled it with kittens, puppies, candy, and most importantly love! It was so perfect!!!!”

  —Love Bytes

  “…this book was nothing short of amazing… if you haven’t read it yet, go do it RIGHT NOW.”

  —MM Good Book Reviews

  “Thank you, Amy, for keeping your promise. Candy Man is sweet, without being syrupy, and the gentleness of Adam and Finn's love story was heartwarming.”

  —Rainbow Book Reviews

  Beneath the Stain

  “Amy Lane at her best…”

  —Prism Book Alliance

  “…be prepared to fall in love in this book. Be prepared get crushed a little. It’s Amy Lane. You know it’s coming.”

  —It’s About the Book

  AMY LANE is a mother of two college students, two grade-schoolers, and two small dogs. She is also a compulsive knitter who writes because she can’t silence the voices in her head. She adores fur-babies, knitting socks, and hawt menz, and she dislikes mo
ths, cat boxes, and knuckle-headed macspazzmatrons. She is rarely found cooking, cleaning, or doing domestic chores, but she has been known to knit up an emergency hat/blanket/pair of socks for any occasion whatsoever, or sometimes for no reason at all. Her award-winning writing has three flavors: twisty-purple alternative universe, angsty-orange contemporary, and sunshine-yellow happy. By necessity, she has learned to type like the wind. She’s been married for twenty-plus years to her beloved Mate and still believes in Twu Wuv, with a capital Twu and a capital Wuv, and she doesn’t see any reason at all for that to change.

  Website: www.greenshill.com

  Blog: www.writerslane.blogspot.com

  E-mail: amylane@greenshill.com

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/amy.lane.167

  Twitter: @amymaclane

  By Amy Lane

  Behind the Curtain

  Beneath the Stain

  Bewitched by Bella’s Brother

  Bolt-hole

  Christmas with Danny Fit

  Clear Water

  Do-over

  Food for Thought

  Gambling Men: The Novel

  Going Up!

  Grand Adventures (Dreamspinner Anthology)

  Hammer & Air

  If I Must

  Immortal

  It’s Not Shakespeare

  Left on St. Truth-be-Well

  The Locker Room

  Mourning Heaven

  Phonebook

  Puppy, Car, and Snow

  Racing for the Sun

  Raising the Stakes

  Shiny!

  Sidecar

  A Solid Core of Alpha

  Super Sock Man