Chapter 8

eight

HARVEY

T he afternoon could not have dragged more. Even Martha’s chatter, once she got back from the store, couldn’t distract me from obsessively checking the time every few minutes on my phone. We had a few visitors in the afternoon—the Arts and Crafts Fair always brought us some traffic—and I spent a little while showing them through and answering any questions they had. The most popular question, unfortunately, was one nobody had an answer for. It was “But why ?” and it was directed at the 1993 mechanical Santa.

An older couple stopped and read every information card on every display, making humming sounds to draw the other one’s attention when they found something particularly interesting. They also bought a postcard and a keychain before they left, which was about as exciting as things got at the museum. But it gave me an excuse to check the inventory and make sure I wasn’t going to run out any time soon.

Spoiler alert: I was not, because hardly anyone ever bought anything.

The museum wasn’t at all profitable. The only reason it was still running was because nobody would dare suggest closing it, although sometimes the mayor liked to sigh loudly in my direction at budget time. I had a hundred different ideas of what I could do to improve the museum, but unfortunately most of these cost money the mayor didn’t want to give me. Which was fair. It wasn’t as though I was a qualified curator or anything; I was just the guy who was willing to sit here for a smidge over minimum wage every day and keep an eye on the place.

But, for all that the museum wasn’t profitable, the people of Christmas Falls loved it. We even had a wedding booked for the building this year, which was a first. And, by some of the noises the wedding planner had made as he’d run through everything he needed versus everything the museum had, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Still, exciting, right?

When my phone chimed with a text, my heart skipped a few beats in a rush of anticipation, but it wasn’t from Sterling. It was Chloe, wanting to know if I wanted to go over to her place tonight for beer and pickles. Look, we’d tried to be civilized with charcuterie boards and stuff like that, but we’d since had to face up to the fact that somewhere along the way our interpretation of ‘charcuterie’ had devolved into ‘a jar full of pickles.’

I sneaked into the storeroom to call her. “Hey, on a scale of believability, one being ‘I stubbed my toe today’ and ten being ‘There’s a full-scale alien invasion happening outside the museum right now,’ where would you put, ‘I actually have dinner plans already, with a guy?’”

It took her a justifiable moment to parse that, and then she said, “Holy shit, are you serious? What guy? Wait. Is it the guy everyone’s seen you around town with? Is this finally the year you meet a hot tourist and have a holiday fling?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Christmas Falls is known for attracting hot, single tourists. It’s totally the demographic we attract.”

“Omigod, it is !” She made the same excited huffing sound my neighbor’s cocker spaniel made when someone brought out treats. “Harvey, is it serious?”

“No!” I ignored the flutter in my stomach. “How could it be? We only just met. But he’s nice, and he’s hot, and he’s invited me to dinner, so it’s a rain check on beer and pickles.”

“I mean, that’s clearly the smart decision even if there’s no hot guy involved,” Chloe said, her voice warm. “Have fun! Give me all the details later.”

“I’m not going to give you all the details later,” I said, even though we both knew that I was, and Chloe laughed as she ended the call.

I checked the time.

Again.

It wasn’t even four yet.

Had time stopped? Was it going backward ?

I sighed, and rearranged a few of the boxes in here that Sterling and I had dug through previously. Old newspapers, photographs and the detritus of decades of parades. I really needed help to go through it all and catalog it properly, but that was a plan for the future.

I left the storeroom and returned to the main room, killing a few minutes by straightening the postcards on the rack on the counter. And then rearranging them. And then straightening them again.

“Oh, dear,” Martha said. “I know that look.”

“What look?” I asked guiltily.

She raised her eyebrows. “That look that says you’re head over heels for that young man from earlier.”

“I am not,” I said, and tried to laugh it off. I wheezed instead. “Okay, fine. He’s cute, and he’s nice, and he’s invited me to dinner tonight.”

“Oh, you lucky thing! If I were fifty years younger and didn’t have a plastic hip, I would bang him like a drum.”

“Martha!”

“What?” She gave me a wicked smile. “Let me tell you, Harvey Novak, you might get a little bit wrinkly and saggy as you get older, but that doesn’t mean there’s no gas in the tank anymore, if you get my meaning.”

“I wish I didn’t!”

She cackled and patted me on the forearm. “You young people! You think you invented sex. How do you imagine you all got here, hmm? The stork?”

“Excuse you. Everyone knows I was found in a pumpkin patch.”

She laughed, swatting me on the shoulder. “And you were cute as a bug too. You still are. Now go and change the toilet paper in the restrooms before it runs out. I was going to do it earlier, but you locked the storeroom.”

I’d locked the storeroom because that’s where the ladder was, and ever since I’d gotten back from lunch a few months ago and found her wobbling away on it as she dusted the ceilings, I’d been terrified she try it again.

“Ah,” I said, “that glamorous museum lifestyle! I’ll get right on it.”

At least it kept me from checking the time for another ten minutes.

Sterling and I went to Frosty’s for dinner and ordered quesadillas and nachos, because Frosty’s was that kind of place. It was warm and friendly and laid back, and had a family atmosphere. Christmas lights twinkled on the shelves of liquor behind the bar and on the Christmas tree in the window. A little paper bag sat on the table by Sterling’s elbow; he’d been carrying it since the museum.

I felt a little awkward, because I didn’t know if this was just a meal between two new friends, or if it was a date. Given that I’d straddled Sterling earlier and stuck my tongue down his throat in my grandma’s car, you’d think there’d be less ambiguity in the whole situation, But no, the ambiguity was hanging thick as a fog over the table, and I searched desperately for a topic of conversation before I did something unthinkable, like communicating like an adult.

“Did you buy something at the Arts and Crafts Fair?” I asked, nodding at the bag.

He smiled. “I did.” He opened the bag and pulled out a little wooden reindeer. It was painted green with red spots, and had sparkling gold antlers and, naturally, a bright red nose. “I’ve named him Rudolph.”

“Well, of course,” I said. “Look at the nose on him. I didn’t know Rudolph was part Dalmatian, though.”

“His spots are very striking,” Sterling agreed. “It’s so weird they didn’t mention them in the song when they’re clearly even more impressive than his nose.”

“Maybe it’s one of those things they figured they didn’t need to mention because everyone already knew. Except then everyone went and forgot about it.”

“Like your feast of medieval birds in The Twelve Days of Christmas .” Sterling’s mouth curved into a warm smile.

“Well, to be fair, we’ve had a lot longer to forget about the birds,” I said. “Rudolph is less than a century old.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re going to tell me he never had spots, aren’t you?”

“Or antlers.” I picked up Sterling’s Rudolph and making him trot across the table through the forest of sauce bottles and salt and pepper shakers. “Rudolph’s story was commissioned by Montgomery Ward, the department store, as a promotional coloring book, so I guess you could have drawn your own antlers on.”

“And spots,” Sterling said, his smile growing. “You really are a Christmas encyclopedia, aren’t you?”

“It’s part of the job description.” I waited to feel the sinking sensation in my stomach I did whenever Steven made some comment about my interests. The feeling didn’t come, and I realized it was because Sterling had made an observation, not a criticism. There was nothing barbed in his tone, or sharp in his smile. I ducked my head to hide my sudden flush, and pushed the spotty reindeer gently back to his side of the table. “He’s very cute.”

“He’s not the only one,” Sterling said, stealing one of my corn chips and popping it in his mouth.

Well, I guess I knew what kind of dinner this was now?

Usually, the added pressure of this being a date kind of dinner would have made me even more awkward, but it didn’t with Sterling. Maybe it was his spotty reindeer or his nacho-stealing ways, or maybe it was because we’d already spent the last few days hanging around together, but this felt fine. And not dog-in-a-burning-room fine. Actually fine. This dinner reminded me of how comfortable I’d felt on my recent date with Jett, except there was an undercurrent of tension running between Sterling and I that had been absent with Jett. Not bad tension. Good tension. It was the electric crackle of attraction and anticipation, and I hadn’t felt it in what seemed like forever.

Even if Sterling was a nacho-stealing asshole.

We didn’t order dessert and, when we left Frosty’s, we walked so closely together that our arms brushed with every step.

The night was cold, but the street sparkled with lights. It was still early enough that Santa’s Village was full of activity, especially up toward Sugar Plum Park. At night, the park looked magical, and I sometimes liked to go there on my way home from work just to grab a hot cider and watch the couples ice-skating on the pop up rink that was installed every year. But we didn’t go to the park now; without discussing it, we walked out of downtown toward the Pear Tree Inn, arms still brushing.

Bells jingled as a reindeer pulled a sleigh along the street.

“This place is crazy,” Sterling said, but he said it with a smile as though he liked it.

We continued on to the hotel, and I followed Sterling into reception and along the corridor to his room.

Sterling’s room at the Pear Tree was nice in a cozy sort of midwestern way that didn’t suit him at all. The comforter was patchwork, in shades of green, red and gold, and there was a fabric hanging on the wall of an appliqué Christmas tree that was giving off some serious 1970s craft magazine vibes. Were those lights on the appliquéd tree real ? I stuck my hands in my pockets before I succumbed to the urge to investigate.

No, the room didn’t suit Sterling, but it definitely suited Rudolph, who Sterling took out of his bag and set on the nightstand. Then he looked at me and gave a rueful shrug. “There’s not much in the minibar, I’m afraid.”

“Minibars are for suckers. There’s a gas station right across the street.”

He gave me one of those looks that reminded me we were from very different worlds. I wasn’t even sure how different they were, but it was pretty clear that Sterling Van Ruyven had never done an emergency snack run to the nearest gas station.

He glanced at the door though, as if he was considering it now.

“I’ll bet it’s not as dire as you think,” I said, and leaned down to open the wonky little refrigerator underneath the TV. A mini sized can of soda and a couple of candy bars stared back at me. “Score!”

Sterling gave me a dubious look as I helped myself to one of the candy bars that would probably cost him five dollars when he checked out. I assured myself it was fine; I’d seen the platinum card he’d used to pay for dinner. A candy bar wasn’t going to break the bank for him. Still, I put the candy bar back and straightened up again.

It felt as though there should have been a moment of profound awkwardness—my life so far had been punctuated by those, and never more so than in potentially intimate moments—but Sterling’s smile took up all the space my awkwardness would have filled. When he closed the gap between us, I felt nothing but that same electric crackle of anticipation I’d felt back at Frosty’s.

We kissed, and it was amazing. One of Sterling’s hands rested on my hip; the other cupped my cheek gently, keeping my face angled correctly into the kiss. The kiss was firm and heated, with none of the hesitation we’d shown earlier in Sugar Plum Park. This time we both knew what we were doing. I closed my eyes and relished it, trying to commit every detail to memory, even though I knew it was pointless. I didn’t have enough blood in my brain at the moment to retain anything. My whole body was alive with the kiss: my lips tingled, my skin prickled, and arousal swirled low and heavy in my gut.

Sterling’s hand slid from my cheek to my hair. His fingers curled around the back of my skull as he deepened the kiss for a moment. Then he pulled his mouth slowly from mine.

“Harvey,” His breath was warm against my lips. “Will you stay the night?”

“Yes.” An entire team of reindeer couldn’t drag me out of here.

I shrugged my coat off, and Sterling did the same.

This was another path that should have been awkward, both of us diverting scarves and coats and beanies and gloves. That bed with its patchwork comforter was just there, lurking or something. Not in an ominous way, exactly, but there were always expectations, right? Expectations that you wouldn’t suck in bed. Performance-wise, at least. All other sucking was encouraged. I wasn’t very good at this part. I’d never been confident I was good at any of the parts, and Steven, my most recent relationship, hadn’t exactly provided much positive feedback. Just another thing he’d said I was boring about.

I pushed that asshole out of my mind. I wasn’t boring . I was a Christmas encyclopedia, and a Trixie Belden fan, and by the heated look that Sterling was giving me right now he thought I was hot as fuck. And, okay, I knew it wasn’t the smartest thing in the world to build my self-confidence around someone else’s opinion of me, but Sterling Van Ruyven wanted to sleep with me? That was a hell of an ego boost.

I pushed Sterling backward, and he made a surprised sound as he sat on the bed. He was still smiling though, and he had a wicked gleam in his eye.

I stood in between his knees, meeting his smile with one of my own as I began to unbutton my shirt. He reached out and put his hands on my hips, skin sliding against skin as I opened my shirt.

“Gorgeous,” he said, his gaze slowly finding its way up my torso before finally settling on my face.

I straddled him, just like I’d tried in the car, and we kissed again.

Things got a little fuzzy after that.

Sterling’s hands on my skin turned my arousal from simmering to a full boil, and as we kissed, we both worked to squirm out of our clothes. Sterling got his head stuck in his shirt because of his failure to undo his top button, and I forgot to take my boots off before my jeans, which meant the whole undressing thing hit a very sudden roadblock. But it was fun, and funny too, and we snickered between heated kisses.

“I don’t have anything,” Sterling murmured as we stretched out on the bed, down to our underwear by now. His were a lot fancier than mine.

I pulled him into another kiss while my scrambled brain tried to figure out what he meant. “Like, condoms or STIs?”

“Jesus.” He laughed. “Both. But I meant condoms.”

“Okay.” I sounded breathless. “We can just?—”

Sterling made an approving sound as I angled my body toward his, pushing my knee between his thighs.

“Yeah?” I asked, shivering as our dicks came into contact through the fabric of our underwear.

Sterling gave an experimental thrust, and we both gasped. “Yes!”

The bed creaked softly as we figured out a rhythm. Sterling rolled me onto my back. I wrapped my legs around him, and his strong arms bracketed my body as he leaned down to kiss me again. Then he rocked against me, and I jerked and cried out as our dicks made contact again. The rasp of my damp underwear against my dick wasn’t enough; I wanted it harder. I grabbed Sterling by the ass and pulled him ever closer.

“Should have gone to that gas station,” he gasped against my ear.

“Now isn’t the time to think about Pringles,” I said, even though I knew exactly what he meant, and he gave a burst of startled laughter that totally messed up our burgeoning rhythm for a moment. It didn’t take us long to find it again though, and soon I was tilting my hips up to meet each one of Sterling’s thrusts, my fingers digging into his warm flesh, as we shared increasingly desperate kisses between ragged breaths.

When I came, it was with no more warning than a gasp, and then my whole body seized and I shuddered my way through my release. Sterling thrust faster against me for a moment, his hips jerking, and then he was coming too, groaning hard in my ear.

“Harvey,” he whispered as he sagged against me, and I splayed my hands against his sweaty back, counting the knots in his spine while I enjoyed my dozy post-orgasm high. I stared blankly at the ceiling and breathed in the scent of Sterling’s hair products.

That was fun and hot and awkward and amazing .

Merry Christmas to me!