Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

S andy's hand balled tightly into Patrick's flannel button down. As Patrick cupped the sides of his face, he sank deeper into the heat and pine scent of the delicious man. Sandy stepped closer and rested his other hand on the jeaned hip of the lumberjack. The wiry beard rubbing against his face elicited a grunt of pleasure laced with pain.

As Sandy sank further into the moment, Patrick suddenly dropped his hands and stepped back. Wearing a tortured look, he bumped the step stool behind him and tipped it over. The loud crash broke whatever spell Sandy had fallen under.

"I shouldn't have done that."

Disappointed, and more than a little hurt, by Patrick's abrupt rejection, Sandy moved forward to stop him from— what? I don't know.

But it was too late. Patrick turned his back to him and folded up the step stool, tucking it into a closet. "There are fresh blankets in the guest room, toothbrush and toothpaste in the bathroom. Excuse me while I get you something to wear."

Before Sandy could utter a word of protest, concern or disbelief, Patrick was gone, off to his room. Sandy frowned at Moonshine. "What the hell?"

Moonshine tilted her head.

"That's what I'm sayin'." Sandy leaned against the counter, too befuddled to go anywhere.

When Patrick returned, he barely came close enough to Sandy to hand over a pair of red and green flannel pajamas.

"I tend to keep it on the cooler side at night," he said from the edge of the kitchen. "Extra blankets are in your room."

"You said that already." He snatched the sleepwear from Patrick's out-stretched arm.

"Good night." Patrick practically stalked away, leaving an astonished Sandy in his wake.

Sandy shook his head as he led Moonshine to the guest room. He flipped on the overhead light and tossed the flannels onto the bed. Sandy couldn't figure Patrick out. One minute we're flirting, then he's brooding, then the kissing, and then the one after that — what, we go separate ways? Who is he, Sybil? Sandy turned on the bedside light and pushed the door closed with the back of his foot. He grabbed a couple of blankets from the closet, one for him and one for Moonshine and placed them at the foot of the bed.

Changing into the flannel, the scent of the fuzzy material reminded him of Patrick. "Is it his detergent?" He slipped into the pants and then the button down before performing his nightly rituals.

Patrick was right. The temperature of the house rivaled a meat locker. Sandy spread the blanket over the comforter on the queen bed and then snuggled in. He lay there blinking at the ceiling. This morning he had just met Patrick, got a seasonal job, and now he's here in the guy's home. This day was too much. He flipped the blankets off his body, ran to the chair, and retrieved his phone from his pants pocket.

Sandy hovered his finger over the FaceTime icon by Julia's name. It'd be so easy to call her right now. He needed to vent to his best friend, but he wasn't certain he had the actual energy for it, and saying that he'd made out with his new boss didn't really fit into her relationship plans for him. Not that it was her life, but something gnawed at him about Patrick. What is it — I don't want him to be another notch? Ugh, that's what I need: a rural, flannel-wearing, brooding jock . Instead, he texted her.

Hope your flight was good xoxo

Then he clicked open a search engine and typed in McCormick's General Store. The site was so lifeless and dull. On his Notes app, he started to type some ideas. It was doubtful that he'd get Patrick to change everything all at once, but at least he'd have an approach, a way to spruce it up. He genuinely wanted to help Patrick. The store meant so much to him. But of course, Sandy's hormones—or maybe the alcohol—made a betraying thumb press on the About navigation button.

Three members of the McCormick family popped up as the banner image. All of them were decked out in McCormick branded shirts. With her short curly hair, cheerful smile, and sweet round face, Patrick's mom looked like everybody's favorite mother from the heartland. McCormick senior resembled a beer-drinking sports enthusiast with his polo stretched over a beer belly. Whereas Patrick, with his rippling muscles and winning smile, sandwiched between his shorter parents looked like a model. The mysterious brother was missing in the promotional shots.

As he scrolled to the bottom of the page, Sandy's eyes nearly bugged out when he gawked at a photo of Patrick in his UW-Madison wrestling gear. Ha! I knew it. Somehow, when he'd first perused the site, he missed that photo. Although how he missed that tight unitard was a puzzler. The body hugging Lycra left very little to the imagination. And I thought banana hammocks were revealing. Holy Guacamole. Back in Patrick's college days he was much more defined with sculpted shoulders and a chiseled jaw, which irritated Sandy. How did he find the time to maintain that physique and attend his business classes?

Their college experiences were vastly different in that sense. Patrick skipped the party scene, and Sandy immersed himself in it. Even after he finished university—and to this day—he still loved going out and having fun. It didn't seem like Patrick's life consisted of anything outside of work. How did he survive? How did he get laid? Maybe that's why their kiss had freaked him out. Patrick was out of practice.

The next morning, Sandy awoke to the alluring smell of coffee and eggs. He rolled over and groaned. Moonshine hopped up on the bed. She stared Sandy down. "I really don't want to have to go out there and deal with mixed messages over bacon."

Moonshine tilted her head with one ear raised.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're annoying?"

Moonshine's bark refuted the opinion.

"Fine. We'll go, but I'm not giving you my bacon. You get kibble. Dry. Boring. Kibble."

Moonshine growled although she wagged her tail in triumph.

Sandy forced himself to get up, get dressed and face Patrick. He stopped at the front door for Moonshine to do her business.

Patrick's head popped around the corner from the kitchen. He waved. "Hi, there."

Sandy grunted a hello.

"Cream and sugar or black?"

"All of the above."

A moment later Patrick brought him a cup of coffee doctored with everything.

He blew on the life-affirming beverage before taking a sip. "Okay, good morning."

Patrick looked down and shook his head, but Sandy caught the slight smile. The lumberjack avoided Sandy and took a shaky inhale to say whatever he had to say. "I shouldn't have been so thoughtless last night. You're an employee and I want you to know that I didn't plan?—"

To kiss me?

"To take advantage of you."

"You did?" Sandy tilted his head, pretending to have no idea what Patrick was talking about.

As if on cue, Patrick stopped studying the floor and mustered the courage to meet Sandy face to face. The dumbfounded look on Patrick's features shouldn't have caused such a thrill to surge though Sandy, but it did.

How long do I let him squirm? Is ten minutes too long? He basked in the chaos as he sipped his coffee for a minute. "I'm kidding."

A puff of air escaped, Patrick's lips. His broad shoulders lowered. "You're mean."

"Only when someone is being an asshat."

"I'm the asshat in this instance?" Patrick hooked a thumb toward his chest.

"Uh huh. I wanted to kiss you as much as you did me, so, you know, get over yourself."

"But in our business relationship I have the power?—"

A bark from the other side of the door interrupted them. Sandy popped open the door wide enough for Moonshine to enter. "Oh please, Moonshine has the power. This girl's got all of us wrapped around her paws."

Worry lines creased Patrick's forehead.

"Relax, okay?" Sandy squeezed Patrick's shoulder. "You don't need to report yourself to HR. It was a consensual."

Patrick's winkles didn't disappear. But instead of continuing to discuss the matter, he grabbed the towel from the night before and dried off the dog. "Go help yourself in the kitchen. I got this."

Someone please, get the lumberjack to chill. But what if there's more to it? Is Patrick embarrassed? Sandy dragged his ass to the other room, fearing that he might be the reason why.

The table was set for two, and a nice spread was laid out with toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, fruit, and three different types of jam. He thought he died and went to breakfast heaven. Patrick is so thoughtful. If he's really embarrassed of me, why would he do all this?

Sandy snuck a piece of bacon off a plate. He moaned his approval just as Patrick walked into the room. "That sound wasn't for you. That's for my deep appreciation for a dead Porky pig and for the large quantities of fat that are clogging my arteries."

Patrick pulled a bag of dog food and filled Moonshine's bowl.

Nervous, Sandy crossed his legs to keep from bouncing them. "Where the hell did you get that?"

"I went for a run earlier this morning and picked it up at the gas station. Hope this brand is okay?"

They watched as Moonshine went to town on the food.

"Okay, if you're gearing up to reject me, you can stop romancing me with food." Sandy stuffed another piece of bacon into his mouth. "Also, running early in the morning? Who are you?"

A gradual smile graced Patrick's lips as he put the dog food away. He washed his hands and then sat diagonally from Sandy. He placed two large scoops of eggs on his plate and added a bunch of ketchup over them.

"Ah, you're that guy. The crazed condiment eater."

Patrick popped a piece of bacon in his mouth. "I don't really like eggs. I need the protein. And I'm not rejecting you."

"And you really like ketchup."

"And bacon and a lot of other stuff that's high in calories and fat."

Sandy speared fruit onto his plate. "And so you run to chase all of that away?"

"That and other things. I try." The strong man stuffed a forkful of the ketchup and egg concoction into his mouth with gusto.

As Sandy sipped his coffee, he studied the lumberjack over his mug. Patrick hadn't expanded on his rejected comment. Did that mean they were supposed to forget about the kiss and move on? Bothered by that idea, Sandy sat up straighter in his chair. "We need to talk."

A crease formed between Patrick's eyes as if he wasn't following the direction of the comment.

"Our chemistry. Specifically, last night."

Patrick swallowed and wiped his mouth. "Sure. The thing is . . . " He stopped and swallowed again. "The thing is . . . we just met. I'm your boss, and we don't know one another. I had a couple of drinks. And you're cute."

Sandy perked up at the idea of being called cute.

"But we have to work together. I didn't mean to overstep last night. Please accept my apology."

Patrick looked like he was waiting for Sandy's reaction, but he didn't have a clue what to do or say. No rejection. No embarrassment. His weirdness is about work? Do I accept it and move on? This was irritating. Something about Patrick's wooden words resembled a business arrangement. No, he didn't like this at all. "You didn't overstep—I liked kissing you. I've decided to take you up on the guest room offer."

Patrick's fork clanged against his plate. His raised brows and wide eyes caused a tickle of wicked delight to run through Sandy. Oh yeah, big guy, I think we're gonna have an awful lot of fun together.

Patrick shifted in his Santa chair. The store's florescent lights already pierced his eyes like ice picks, and it was only midmorning. The Santa suit made him especially itchy today, probably because he hadn't gotten any sleep last night. As he tossed and turned, he'd thought about the kiss. And then he'd thought about Sandy, alone in the guest room, and how easy it would be just to walk to the other side of the house. But he hadn't. He stayed in bed until he couldn't take it anymore, and then by four in the morning he'd had enough. Even though the temps had only hit the teens and it was slippery outside, he tied his running shoes, put on his winter gear, and braved the day.

Although, somehow, he didn't feel very brave. The word coward sprang to mind instead. But he'd been right to put the brakes on the kissing. They didn't know anything about one another, and just because Sandy was kind, cute, and funny didn't mean they should date. No, not date. The most he could handle was a fling. A holiday fling sounded just right. Some sweaty sex was what he needed. He didn't have time for anything more.

All his emotions and focus had to be on the store. His family was counting on him.

A throat clearing broke Patrick out of his reverie.

Sandy leaned a foot on the step. "It's really dead in here."

Patrick glanced around the store. They'd only had a couple of kids with their grandparents stop by for Santa photos so far. And there was all of one customer wandering around the first floor. Patrick hadn't seen anyone else enter the store since they opened.

Sandy pursed his lips. His very red, very kissable lips.

Sandy flagged a hand up and down in front of Patrick's line of sight. "Are you with me?"

He nodded. "Maybe take Moonshine and yourself for a break."

Sandy patted his leg and Moonshine followed him.

Patrick closed his eyes and rested his head against his palm. A wave of exhaustion hit him like a sledgehammer.

"Hey…are you alive?" Chelsea plopped down on the velvet footstool.

A grumbly sort of groan slipped out as he shrank into his chair. "If you couldn't work here anymore, what would you do?

Frowning, they folded their arms. "That's not cryptic at all."

He thought about telling them about the eviction notice. The sooner he told them, the sooner they could start looking for a new job. "I think we're going to have to close the store."

"Geez, that bad?"

Patrick made a crashing and exploding sound.

Chelsea's head shot back with raised brows. "You're being loopy." They placed their hands on their knees and leaned forward with a serious look. "If the store closes, I'd probably have to take a job at that new super store. I'd hate it. I'd hate the people. I'd hate the bright yellow vest they'd force me to wear. And I'd hate it when they'd screw up my pronouns. But mostly I'd hate it when they'd force me to stop coloring my hair. In essence, Mom and I would be fine, but I'd absolutely fucking hate it. What's the plan?"

Patrick leaned his forearms on his knees. "I really hoped you had one."

They took off their elf hat and scratched their head. "Use your resources."

"If I had any left—the bank can't help."

"The new guy."

"How can he help?" He sat upright at how happy it made him to think that Sandy might be able to help.

Sandy and Moonshine stepped onto the stage as he bit into a frosted Christmas cookie. "What's the haps now?" he asked as he chewed.

Chelsea raised a challenging brow at Patrick. Patrick knew that silent facial expression well. And currently he hated that stupid thing. And also loved it. Since he had no other options, he looked directly at Sandy. "I could use your help."