3. Gray

CHAPTER 3

Gray

S unny was, unfortunately, appropriately named. From what I could tell he’d slept most of Wednesday, but was up on Thursday before the sun, walking the dogs, getting to know my neighbors and generally being underfoot before I’d even had my first cup of coffee.

He’d also practically eaten me out of house and home. To be fair, I didn’t keep a lot of food on hand, but still.

By the time Friday rolled around, I was regretting offering to take him with me to breakfast. I’d gotten up this morning—a little later since it was my day off—and he was sitting in my living room looking freshly showered, and both Sweetie and Lunchbox were sitting on his lap.

Seriously, what the hell was he smiling at? Why did people smile for no reason?

“Have you been up long?”

Sunny shook his head. “Only since six-thirty. Oh, and I already took the dogs for a walk.”

I checked my watch. It was eight forty-five.

“Are you always this happy in the morning?”

“Yep,” he answered cheerfully. “Where do you think I got the nickname from?”

“So, what’s your real name?”

“Mervin,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

“That . . .”

“Doesn’t quite fit, does it?”

“Uh, no.”

Sunny lifted a shoulder. “I was named after my father, who spent most of his time away, building empires.”

“So, like father like son?” I asked.

“Absolutely not.” His answer was sharp, like his smile. “When I have kids, they’ll actually be able to remember what my face looks like.”

The assured way he said that twisted something in my heart. I’d been single most of my life, but one of the things I wanted most was to be a father. Not that I’d ever admit that to anyone.

Pessimistic assholes probably shouldn't be fathers.

Switching subjects, I asked, “You ready for breakfast?”

“I stay ready.”

“If that were true, you would’ve known that flying around in treacherous conditions on a new license with your dog in the plane was a very bad idea.”

Unperturbed, he shot back, “I swear, you and my brother are never going to let me live that down.”

“Whatever. Let’s go.”

“Considering that your refrigerator contains only out-of-date condiments and American cheese slices, that would be great,” he said affably, then ushered Sweetie and Lunchbox into the fancy kennel-slash-end table at the far side of the couch.

Sweetie looked at me, expectant.

“I always give her a T-R-E-A-T when I kennel her up,” I said, pointing to one of the handmade treat containers I’d purchased from Roy at last year’s Christmas festival.

Sunny opened the lid. “Mind if I give Lunch one as well?”

“That’s fine.”

Sweetie took the treat and sat, eating it like a lady. Lunchbox did hot laps around the kennel with the treat in his mouth, then spat it on the floor before going after it like a starved animal.

Sunny shook his head, laughing.

“What is wrong with your dog?” I asked, glaring down at it.

Sunny stopped laughing and looked me straight in the eye. “Not a damned thing.”

Fair, I guess.

I grabbed my keys from the hook in the foyer and Sunny followed me out to my truck. A few minutes later, we arrived at the Snowflake Shack.

“Is that graffiti?” Sunny asked, getting out of the truck.

“I’ve never thought of it as graffiti,” I said of the scene with kids and Christmas gifts. I bit back a smile. Pointing to the sign, I said, “Don't let the name fool you. They have the best French toast in town.”

We walked in past the mistletoe arch, and it made me wonder what kind of a kisser Sunny was. Soft? Shy? Insistent? Passionate?

Swearing under my breath, I glared at the mistletoe for invading my thoughts. The Christmas spirit in this town was insidious.

Adam, my uncle and the owner of the Snowflake Shack, limped over on his crutches, accosting me. Everyone knew I hated small talk, but I gave a small exception for Adam. When my aunt died, it had been a real gut punch. And he'd always been good for the community.

Adam pointed over to the corner where I always sat. “Look, I put a few finishing touches on your spot.”

Sunny followed his gesture, and threw his head back, laughing. “Gray with a chance of Frost. Hilarious .”

Adam beamed. “And if this rude asshole would introduce me to you, I'd explain.”

My jaw dropped open. What the hell. “Are you even supposed to be walking around?” I asked, pointing to his crutches. “Remy still hasn’t forgiven me for not telling him you’d been hurt.”

Adam waved me off. “Remy’s fine.”

Sunny ignored me and stuck out his hand. “Sunny Day. Nice to meet you.”

“Don't you own a big tech company in Chicago or something?” Adam asked, hobbling with us over to my corner. “I’m glad you were able to land safely after the issues with your landing gear.”

Never let it be said that the gossip network in this town had ever fallen behind. The people here made it their solemn duty to dig up the dirt on everyone and everything.

“Thanks, and I do own a big tech company in Chicago. As for the landing gear, this one'll tell you that I was lucky because I’d decided to fly in less-than-favorable conditions in a plane I’d only flown once before.”

“Well, I’m just glad it all worked out okay. How long do you think you'll be in town for?”

“I’m in for the season. I'm looking for a place to live that’s a little less busy than Chicago.”

“Doesn't get much better than Christmas Falls,” Adam said as we sat down.

I harumphed.

“Ignore this one. He loves this place as much as anyone else.”

“The town is fine,” I answered, waving him off, “but you have to admit that it’s a bit much at Christmastime.”

A few regulars wandered in, spotted the corner and laughed.

“Happy now? They're laughing at me.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “They're not laughing at you, Gray. They're laughing because it’s a funny corner. Which you’ve willingly been occupying for weeks now.”

“How is that not laughing at me?”

“Because it’s done with affection, you grump.”

Sunny chuckled.

I glared at him. “You can go sleep in your plane tonight if you'd prefer.”

He held up his hands. “I'll be good. Besides, I can’t make fun of you because I hate Christmas as much as you do.”

Wait, what?

I shook my head. “How is that possible?”

For once, Sunny seemed to dim. “Lost my mom around this time of year. Just makes it hard, you know?”

Huh. As much his determined cheerfulness frustrated me, it was tough to maintain that sentiment in the light of context. It sounded like he’d had to choose between jolly and drowning and went with the one that kept him sane. Good on him.

Still, it didn’t seem right, someone like Sunny not being able to enjoy the holiday.

Adam patted him on the shoulder. “I lost my wife, and it’s hard around that time of year for me, too.” He then pointed at me. “This one just hates Christmas on principle.”

“Why are you picking on me?” I asked, then gestured at Sunny. “And why would you move to a place that is hellbent on celebrating a holiday you don’t like?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Everything else was a perfect fit. I thought I should give it a shot.”

“Sounds reasonable to me,” Adam said, then grinned at me. “I promise, I’ll stop teasing. Want me to bring your usual, nephew?”

“Yes, please.”

Sunny rubbed his hands together. “Gray here says you have the best French toast. Is that true?”

“You know it,” Adam said, smiling proudly.

“Then I'll have an order of your French toast with some coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.”

“You've got it.”

“Do you make friends everywhere you go?” I asked, not sure if I was irritated or jealous.

“I do. I can't help it. I just like people.”

“What about grumpy people?” I asked, gesturing to myself.

“I especially like grumpy people,” he answered, his eyes twinkling.

I didn't believe that for a second. I wanted to, though.

We managed to get through breakfast with minimal interruptions. Adam had moved on from me and was now teasing Jett Davis—who was clearly sleeping with my cousin Remy—about giving him his own spot. I volunteered my corner, but then Sunny had to pop off and now everyone thinks he’s hilarious.

On top of that, Sunny paid before I had a chance to even look at the bill.

“You didn't need to do that.”

“Most people just say thank you, Gray,” he said, knocking into me as we hit the sidewalk. “So, are you gonna show me your town?”

“Yes. Even though I’ll probably live to regret it.”

I don’t know why he thought that was funny, but he did.

As we started walking, I thought back to what he told Adam.

“So, why are you really looking to move away from Chicago? Are you trying to, what? Sell off your business?”

Sunny shook his head. “My team can do everything online. As long as we meet up regularly, I think it'll work pretty well.”

“I’d think Chicago would be a great place for all of you tech bros.”

“Well, I don't know that I'm actually a tech bro. And Chicago is great, but it can be overwhelming.”

I stared at the side of his head. “A guy who goes up in a plane with the bare minimum of training doesn't strike me as someone who gets easily overwhelmed.”

“You’d be surprised.”

He didn’t expand, so I didn’t pry, but the thought of him being overwhelmed bothered me almost as much as the thought of him no longer enjoying Christmas. Seriously, why the fuck did I care?

Tucking that thought away, we strolled next door to Ginger’s Breads, and it was as if the entire town plus every single tourist had decided to go there all at the same time. I pushed through the crowded seating at the door, then headed toward the back wall where Joel was putting out fresh pastries.

“Do you have any allergies or anything?”

When I didn’t receive an answer, I checked the space to my side, and Sunny wasn't there. I turned around and saw him just inside the front door, anxiety marking his features.

Shit . He’d just said that he was leaving Chicago because of the crowding.

I pushed my way back through the throng of people, ignoring the grunts of protest until I could put my hand on his arm. Even though he was facing me, Sunny jumped as though he hadn’t seen my approach.

“It’s me,” I said, as though that weren’t obvious.

Sunny blinked, recognition settling his features. “Oh, good.”

His quick return to equilibrium lessened the unexpected tightness in my chest. In our few days together, I seemed to have earned his trust, which was surprisingly— no, annoyingly —endearing.

“We’ll come here another time. It’s not usually this busy.”

“Oh, that would be great,” he said, his voice uneven.

Gripping his arm, I walked him half a block away. “You okay?” I asked, noticing that he still had an uneasiness about him.

“I get a little claustrophobic in crowds,” he admitted, bouncing on his feet. “So ridiculous.”

I shook my head. “My mom hated crowds, too. She always went to visit her family this time of year to avoid the craziness.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

I wondered if he’d realized that this town was regularly crowded this time of year, and was curious whether that would work for him in the long run. The thought that it might not settled weird in my stomach.

Don’t go soft just because you saw something vulnerable in him, Gray. This man clearly doesn’t belong.

I walked us right past Santa’s Workshop—that place was a madhouse—and aimed toward Sugar Plum Park. Unfortunately, there were a lot of people there, too.

“Maybe we can go back to the truck and find a quieter spot,” I said, feeling anxious for him.

“No, wait.” He had a soft smile on his face.

I followed his line of sight and couldn’t help my own smile. We were standing in front of Dancing Sugar Plums, watching the little kids smash their noses against the window, begging their moms for candy. One of the moms, Tara, was holding firm, but exchanged a glance with us, clearly trying not to laugh.

“This is absolutely where I would fail as a parent,” Sunny said, laughing as he shivered.

I glared at his coat, which was far too thin for the weather. “Is this the warmest thing you brought?”

He shivered again. “I didn't think it would be this chilly. I have more layers at home.”

“Fine. But for now, you can wear this.” I unwrapped my scarf from my neck.

“I can’t take your scarf, Gray.”

“You’re not taking it, you’re borrowing it,” I said, putting a stern look on my face.

“Okay.” Sunny bit at his lower lip as I wrapped it around his neck. “Did your mom knit this or something?”

“No, I got it from Costco the last time I visited the city. But it’s a warm scarf,” I grumped, annoyed by the terribly unimportant fact that he looked good in it.

His hands went to the material, and he buried his nose in it, inhaling. “This smells so good.” He shimmied, as if to spread the warmth.

“Mr. Frost! Mr. Frost!” Jilly, Tara’s littlest, said with a lisp.

Most of the time kids didn't really spend much time in my presence, but for some reason, Jilly thought I was the best thing since sliced bread.

“Hi, Jilly.”

“Did you see what momma bought me?” she asked, holding up a massive pink-and-white sparkle candy cane.

Sunny laughed and gestured to Tara’s three other children. They all had candy canes and the glazed-over look of too much Christmas sugar.

Tara grimaced. “What can you do?”

“Wow,” I said, addressing Jilly. “That’s quite the candy cane. You’ll smell like peppermint till next summer.”

Jilly giggled and bounced on her toes, then spun in place, swishing her candy cane about like a magic wand.

“Well, we're gonna go ahead and go now. It was nice seeing you,” I said stiffly, then sent her a very small wave.

Jilly smiled as though I'd bestowed upon her the grandest gift imaginable, and waved back at me with both hands, nearly dropping her prize.

“She likes you,” Sunny said, bumping into me as we rounded the corner.

I noticed that he tended to do that—move and sway even when he was meant to be standing still. I didn’t wanna like it, but I did. I liked it a lot.

“It’s just like with dogs,” I said, shaking my head. “I made it clear to everybody that I don’t enjoy them. Not at all.”

“Don't tell me: dogs love you.”

“I don't know why.” I threw up my hands, exasperated. “I basically ignore them.”

He touched his shoulder to mine. Again. “Then how did you end up with Sweetie?”

I rubbed my jaw, a little embarrassed by the truth. “Old Mr. Cranston passed away and Santa’s Helpers—that’s the local animal shelter—was overcrowded.”

Sunny put on a knowing look even as he stepped in closer to avoid the growing crowd on the sidewalk. “That was awfully sweet of you.”

“Whatever,” I said, shaking off the desire to put my arm around his waist and keep him protected from the unwashed hordes of people.

“No, don’t diminish that.” He fake-glared at me. “Dogs can tell when someone’s a good person, even if they are a bit of a grump.”

I cut my eyes to him, noticing his nearness as I shook my head.

“Speaking of, I need to make a quick stop at Tidings & Joy for breakfast fixings and then we should get back home so that Lunchbox doesn't pee in the crate.”

Sunny’s hand went to his chest, and his mouth fell open. “Excuse me, sir . Lunchbox does not pee where he is not meant to. Also, I took him on a very long walk, and he emptied his bladder all over your neighborhood.”

“Great,” I said, imitating him by pressing my shoulder to his. “My neighbors are going to hate me.”

“Are you kidding? They all fell in love with him. Immediately.” He dramatically touched the back of his hand to his forehead as he leaned against my chest. “And your scrumptious ass will too.”

“Doubt it,” I said, peeping the outline of my ass in a window.

Is that what passes for scrumptious these days?

I inhaled subtly, taking in his expensive cologne with its undercurrent of sunshine. Or maybe that was just him. Sunny chuckled and wrapped his arm around mine, shivering again.

I re-wrapped the scarf around his neck. “Come on, let’s get this done so you don't freeze to death.”

“You know what, Gray?”

“What?”

“For an asshole, you’re actually kind of a softy underneath.”

I snarled in response, but Sunny’s bright grin told me that he wasn’t convinced.