Chapter Two: Drake

M y phone rings, startling me from staring out through the living-room window, which faces my long driveway. I was expecting Anson to arrive an hour ago, but so far there hasn’t been any sign of him. With the way the snow is coming down, I’m starting to feel unsettled.

We’ve been running in the same social circle at The Grove for the past year and, when I heard him trying to talk his way out of another Daddy’s invitation to join his family for Christmas, I opened my big mouth and invited him to my cabin instead. I don’t do Christmas. In fact, I don’t do any holidays.

Call me a grinch if you must, but I just don’t see the point. There’s currently nobody in my life to decorate for or celebrate with, and I can’t be bothered making the effort for just myself. That would be kind of sad, really.

And, because I got the impression that Anson wasn’t exactly in a festive mood, I figured we could hang out in solitude together. Drink beers, stream some action flicks, and shoot the shit without any tinsel or holly or stupid elves on shelves to be seen.

Even so, I honestly don’t know what prompted me to ask him to join me.

It’s not like I had any ulterior motives, no matter how pretty I think he is. We’re not compatible as anything other than friends. I mean, we’re both Daddies. Or, at least, I think he’s a Daddy. He’s been open about the fact that he’s been trying to discover exactly what makes him tick. I respect him for being willing to try a bit of everything while he figures it out.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe it’s the fact that I respect him, and with everyone else I know paired up and living their lives, and my sister having moved overseas, maybe my subconscious decided it was time to make some new likeminded friends.

It’s definitely not the fact that I think Anson’s pretty blue eyes are captivating. And it can’t be because I think his heart-shaped face and stylishly tousled blonde hair make him look equal parts cute and sexy. Nope. Not at all .

He’s just a kindred spirit, that’s all. I just want to be his friend.

We’re both Daddies. I remind myself. Being anything other than friends would end in disaster .

Okay, so maybe part of why I invited him is a dumb crush which I’m hoping will disappear if I spend some one-on-one time with the guy. Experiencing just how incompatible we are in a one-on-one setting should hopefully put my crush to bed for good.

I’d like to put Anson to bed…

Jesus Christ, I need these thoughts to stop. It’s getting creepy. Maybe after Christmas is over, I just need to get laid.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I frown when I see Anson’s name on the screen. “Hello?” I answer the call and put the device to my ear, rubbing my palm over my bearded jaw. I’ve let my beard grow out and it’s starting to feel lush and a bit wild. “Anson?”

The line is staticky and I strain my hearing, catching pieces of a sentence. “…ice…tree…airbag…stuck.”

I’m striding across my cabin’s living room before I know it. “Where are you?” I ask, grabbing my coat and struggling into it with my phone balanced precariously between my cheek and my shoulder. He tells me that he thinks he’s only a mile from my driveway, which, in this weather, is too long to consider walking. “I’m coming to get you, okay?”

“…car won’t start.” There’s a distinct note of distress in his voice that has me hurrying even more.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” I assure him. “Hold tight.”

I’m pretty sure I hear him sniffle and my heart squeezes. Don’t Daddy another Daddy , I tell myself, even though I’m grabbing my keys with a rescue mission planned. Just be his friend, Drake.

It’s hard to stick to that plan when I pull my truck up on the side of the road to find him soaked through and shivering. The front bumper of his little red SUV is banged up from where the vehicle has skidded on a patch of ice and subsequently connected with a tree.

“Are you okay?” I ask him as I approach, finally taking notice of what he’s wearing. I’m in snow boots, thick pants and a proper snow jacket. He’s shivering in jeans, sneakers, and a thin jacket which can’t be helping him at all in this weather. “Did you get hurt in the crash?”

His lower lip wobbles, but he shakes his head. I groan when I realize that he’s not even wearing a beanie. Or gloves! Does he want to catch his death out here?

I can’t help taking charge. “Get in my truck. Nobody’s gonna be able to make it out here in this weather. We’ll call for a tow after tomorrow once the holiday is over and the storm has passed.”

Anson bites his lip and then hurries over to my truck, his feet slipping and sliding under him as he goes. I grab the keys from his ignition, then spy a black duffel bag on the back seat. I grab that, too, before shutting the car and pressing the button on the key fob to lock it. It clicks and the lights flash twice, and I’m satisfied that that’s the best we can do right now.

After passing Anson his bag, I climb into the driver’s seat of my truck’s cab and blast the heat. The drive back to my place is silent, but after we’ve slowly traversed my driveway and I’ve parked my truck inside the attached garage to my cabin, Anson quietly says, “Thank you for coming to get me.”

His voice is small, and when I look at him, he’s staring down at his lap where he’s cuddling his bag like it’s a treasured stuffie.

“Anytime, bud,” I answer, even though every instinct inside me is urging me to pull him in for a hug. “That storm came on fast. I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.”

Anson nods. His throat works as he swallows. Then he finally turns his head slowly in my direction. His cheeks are bright pink, and I don’t know how much of that is caused by the cold, and how much is embarrassment. “I’m a better driver than that, I swear.”

Once again, my Daddy gut insists that this man is a Boy who needs my approval and praise.

I have to remind myself that I’m only feeling this way because my mind is desperate to justify my attraction to him.

Clearing my throat, I smile and shake my head. “Black ice is a bitch. It’s just bad luck. I don’t think you’re a bad driver, Anson.” When he shrugs and looks away, a little bit of that Daddy reflex takes over again and I say, “Come on, let’s get you inside so you can warm up. I think a warm ba— shower ,” I catch my near-slip just in time, “some dry clothes and a coffee in front of the fire will do wonders.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he sighs and undoes the clasp for his seat belt. “But, um, can I have something else to drink? I don’t do coffee.”

“Tea?” I ask as I climb out of the truck, waiting until he’s come around to walk next to me before I continue, “I think I’ve got a few bags in the cupboard.” I scratch the back of my neck, feeling sheepish. “I can’t tell you how long they’ve been in there, but—”

“Actually, uh, I was thinking more, like, hot cocoa? I prefer hot drinks to be sweet.”

I chuckle, leading the way from the garage to the warmth inside my cabin. “What kind of Daddy would I be if I didn’t keep a supply of cocoa?”