Christmas Delights 3 (61 page)

“Dayumm.”

“Wait until you meet him. He’s not happy though since I’m
having the annual Christmas Eve party downtown and a family Christmas day here
at the manor. He’s busy making food and cocktails for everything within the
three days.”

“Busy man.”

“Stephen’s son became his personal sous chef, go-getter,
whatever until the holidays are finished. Get in here before we both freeze,”
he said as he took hold of Trace’s free hand and tugged him inside.

“Careful, I’m not steady,” Trace said as he followed Cam.
His fingers closed over Cam’s warm fingers.

“Tell me everything inside.” Cam looked him from feet to
hair and back. “We’ll go to my sitting room. Stephen, bring a pot of hot tea
and whatever sandwiches you have.”

“Will do, “the older man said and disappeared.

Trace lifted an eyebrow, looked to one side, and back to
Cam.

“Their family has been caretakers of this house from the
beginning. They’ve become good friends since my first term,” Cam said as he led
him to one side of the parquet-floor hallway.

“Yeah, umm, what the hell? Mister Mayor?”

“I was tired of the continued bigotry, so I got on the
ballot and figured what the hell. I could make things worse.”

“So the bigots got themselves a gay mayor for not one, but
two terms.”

“Perhaps more if my luck holds. There’s nothing to stop me
from keeping this position.” Cam led Trace inside the warm blue-and-earth-tones
room with a seating area, L-shaped desk, and several bookcases. Against a wall,
opposite of the windows, was a massive stone fireplace lit with a crackling
fire. There was even a decorated and lit tree in the corner.

“I’m glad to see your need to decorate hasn’t changed.”

“I love decorating. Why shouldn’t I bring it up to the hill?
This house has been stuffy for so long. In the town hall, I set up multiple
trees and had the different elementary classes decorate one. There will be a
judging contest on Christmas Eve. The older kids decorated the doors for their
contest,” Cam said as they went to the sitting area by the fire.

After Trace followed him to sit on the sofa, Cam placed a
hand on Trace’s left leg and stopped when he felt the hard socket and metal
contraption. “Oh, Trace, what happened? Why didn’t you come home to me after
your tour like you promised?”

“I was ashamed of being half the man you knew.”

“Damn it all. While you have a smoking hot body, it was your
heart I loved,” Cam said as he tightened his grip. “Talk to me.”

There was a knock on the door before Stephen appeared with a
tray. He set it on the coffee table. “If I may, I would like to borrow your
keys. We can move your truck inside the garage before the blizzard this
evening.”

“Oh, sure, thank you.” Trace dug his keys from his pocket
and passed them to the older man.

“I’ll need the Jeep ready by eight,” Cam said.

With a nod, Stephen left them alone.

Trace looked from the door to Cam and back. “So strange. How
did you get used to the change?”

“I’m not the umm…typical mayor.”

“Snobby and all-about-me type of attitude and forgetting why
you’re in this house and position in the first place.”

“A good start,” Cam said before he laughed. He leaned over,
cupped his fingers along Trace’s jaw, and brushed his thumb against Trace’s
lower lip. “Damn, you’re so damn gorgeous. I can’t believe you’re here.”

“A lot happened on the last tour.”

“I told you I don’t care what limbs are missing. This is
important to me…” Cam moved his hand until his fingers pressed against Trace’s
chest. “Your heart is beating.”

“It continues to be filled with love for you. Since we met,
my heart belonged to you.”

“Oh, tear…” Cam pressed a finger to fake a tear at an eye.
He added in a sniff for realism. “You’re damn poetic for a Marine.”

“Guess you influenced me with all those books you kept
pressing in my hands or stuffing in my backpack.”

“Are you trying to tell me you read some of those books?”

“Yes. All of them.”

“Not lying?”

Trace grinned. “No. Not to you.”

“Why didn’t you mail or email me about what was happening?”

“I was ashamed. I left you a whole complete man in his prime
and came home a cripple.”

“Hey, don’t call yourself such a horrid name. You’re an
honorable Marine who served his country with pride and gave everything and more
for freedom and everything we stand for in this country. As screwed-up as
things are stateside, our warriors are anything but the most honorable men and
women.”

“Damn. You’re one helluva politician,” Trace said.

“My partner was a proud Marine when I ran for office. Yes, I
used your status to help push my ideals and wishes for the office and town. I
wanted to yank the bigotry and ingrained phobias out of this place.”

“You used me?”

“You campaigned with me as my partner, an honorable US
Marine serving our country. I guess it helped some to see yeah, I’m a gay man,
but I’m not shoving my male partner in their faces. So…”

“You used me.”

“Some could pretend I wasn’t gay. I knew it would happen and
let it play out.”

“You used me?”

Cam chuckled at Trace repeating those words. “Would you
rather I ask another man to be my partner for the campaigns?”

“Hell fucking no!”

Cam laughed hard and leaned closer. He snagged hold of the
back of Trace’s skull and tugged him into a hard, passionate kiss of longing,
distance apart, and happiness to have him home.

Chapter 3

They talked late into the day, Trace explaining about the
day in the desert that left him without a lower left leg and numerous scars. He
talked a bit of the difficulties of rehab, learning to walk and move again,
figuring out life with the prosthesis, and working out the details and issues
within his head. After the discussion, Cam rose to give Trace a tour, leaving
him in an upstairs room.

Hours later, after a long hot shower, shave, and change of
clothes to a fresh pair of jeans, Henley shirt, and thick cable-knit sweater,
Trace slid the prosthetic foot in a sock and boot to match his other one. Once
secured, he went back to the bathroom and added a bit of gel to his hair to
bring out the natural curls and spikes. Finished, he slid necessary items in
pockets, grabbed a heavy coat and scarf, and his cane. Leaving the guest room
next to Cam’s room, not sure about moving right into the same quarters after
years apart, he made his way downstairs where Cam spoke with Stephen and a
younger man.

Hearing his odd gait, Cam looked up the stairs and met him
at the bottom. “Hello there, handsome. You always did clean up well. “He
smoothed Trace’s hem.

“Thanks.” Trace wound the scarf around his neck and slid
into the beaten leather jacket.

“Are you ready to meet the old gang?”

“Not really. How many folks do you think he gathered?”

Cam shrugged as he stepped away to pull on a Nautica navy
blue pea coat over his blue cashmere sweater and dark wash jeans. He stuffed a
stylish scarf in the opening and took the keys from the younger man. “We’ll be
back in a few hours. Neither of us desire spending all night at a bar with
Trace’s first night back.” He slid his fingers into Trace’s back pocket,
lifting on his toes, and pressed a kiss to Trace’s cheek.

Relieved by Cam’s cuddling and kiss, Trace settled down
against him. Perhaps their relationship was more solid than he thought. His
forced exile from everyone didn’t do damage to them. He pressed a kiss to the
top of Cam’s head.

Together they walked out to slide into Cam’s warmed Jeep
with Cam driving down the long driveway back to town. They noticed the parking
lot was stuffed full of cars along with the various roads. One of folks outside
waved Cam over and assisted him into a special spot right next to the bar.

“Do you always have this luck with parking spots?” Trace
asked as he unbuckled the belt.

“Nope, not unless it’s something on official business and I
have an assigned spot. This…I believe this must be for you.” Cam winked, turned
off the car, and climbed down. He went to shake hands with the man on the
street. He opened the door for Trace, who stepped down with his cane and
assistance from Cam. “Careful. It’s a little slippery.”

“I’m good. I ordered one of these HurryCane things
advertised on TV and they work with vets.” Trace released the cane and it stood
on its three supportive feet. He touched the hand to show how it wobbled back
and forth on pivoting base. “I can fold it up if there isn’t room.”

“Neat,” Cam said as he touched the handle to watch it move.

“Helpful when things are unsteady,” Trace said as he took
hold of the cane and walked next to Cam, who moved to his right side.

The door was opened for them and as they entered the large
central room, a warm shout of ‘Welcome Home, Trace’ rang out from everyone stacked
inside. Trace stopped short at the raised voices.

“I’m here. I’m right here,” Cam said next to him. He took
hold of Trace’s hand and squeezed it.

“Don’t let go. I can’t toss out the possibility of a panic
attack.”

“We’re good. Do what you can,” Cam said.

“Hey, man, I spread the word to a few pals about your
homecoming, and we couldn’t let it pass without a party,” the friendly deputy
said as he appeared out of the crowd.

“Wish you didn’t go through all this trouble,” Trace said.

“We thought this would be a small group,” Cam said.

The deputy studied a pale Trace and worried Cam. “Shit. I’m
sorry, guys.”

“No one can change the situation now. Get us to the bar,”
Trace said.

“We’re not staying long,” Cam said with a lifted eyebrow.

“Understand.” The deputy turned to the crowd. “Okay, back
up, everyone. Let’s not crowd our town’s finest devil dog and mayor. Been a
while since they seen one another.”

Most the crowd laughed at the hidden meaning, but some did
back away as requested. Others tried to move in on Trace, but other men
appeared to help with crowd control.

Reaching the long mahogany bar, Trace hiked his ass on a
stool, braced his fake foot on the lower rung, and tucked the cane to the side.
Instead of taking a seat, Cam stayed against his right side, shaking hands,
slapping backs, and smiling as the politician he had become over the years.

“Hey, man, welcome back. What can I get ya? Drinks are on
the house,” the bartender said.

Trace looked over his shoulder. “Cranberry juice with
seltzer.”

“Nothing stronger?”

“Can’t.”

“On the rocks?”

“Sure. Cam, what do you want?”

“My usual,” Cam said as he gave the bartender a nod. He
glanced at Trace, leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. “Doing okay?” He
brushed a thumb against Trace’s lip.

Trace nipped at Cam’s thumb. “Holding for now. You seem to
enjoy being a politician.”

“I know I’m doing something good for everyone instead of
continuing the hatred.”

“Go and be a social butterfly.”

“Always was the fluttering type of our duo.”

“As long as you always come back to me,” Trace said.

Cam braced both hands on Trace’s thighs. “You have the
sweetest nectar of all. I want some tonight.” He pressed his lips to Trace’s in
a deeper kiss.

Trace cupped his face and returned the kiss, forgetting the
thought of everyone watching them. He couldn’t care less what the others
thought of them. He was back with his partner, his lover, and he wasn’t going
to screw this up.

There were cheers. Others teased about giving them a room in
the back.

“Shush, my devil dog is home and I’m enjoying every moment
with him,” Cam said, sticking his tongue out. He leaned over and picked up the
bottle of local Colorado microbrew. “Yum. Ice cold.”

Trace sipped at his cranberry drink and watched Cam move
away from him, bottle in hand, as he chatted with various groups.

For the next hour, Trace nursed the drink, followed Cam with
his gaze, and gritted his teeth as various folks moved over to him, talking a
storm, wanting to touch him, or anything else. As if he was some kind of god or
something in their eyes for doing his job.

Feeling a twitch in his eye and a low throbbing in his
temple as the annoying attention continued for another hour, Trace gripped the
glass harder. He stared at the three ladies twittering.

“You three do know I’m gay and shoving your breasts in my
face isn’t doing a damn thing to my dick,” he said, snapping out the words.
Straightening his back, he looked for any sign of Cam in the growing crowd.

One of the girls stepped closer and rubbed her breasts against
his arm. “Come on, baby, you know you want to try and get some pussy.”

“I. Am. Gay. Get it, you twit?” Trace pushed off the stool
and threw the half-empty glass across the room until it shattered against the
wall, spilling liquid and shards.

The woman backed away, shock across her face.

“Whoa, Trace… Trace, baby, what happened?” Cam pushed
through the crowd and gripped Trace’s shoulders.

“Get me out of here before I punch these idiotic women who
think all gay men need pussy to turn them het,” Trace said, gritting his teeth
as pain throbbed in his temple.

Cam looked at the trio who stood in each other’s arms. “What
the fuck? How many times have I told you don’t fuck with us? We’re gay. We like
dick, cock, balls, and hard bodies. We don’t fucking want pussy. Get it through
your skulls or get lost.”

“Do you know these floozies?”

“They followed us throughout high school trying to get in
our pants.”

“Shit… Stupid then. Stupid now.”

“Oh, please, how can you not want this?” one female said,
pushing her boobs together.

“What? Plastic-stuffed, fat-sucked, face-yanked, and
stitched and sewn back together. I don’t think so. Even if I were into women, I
want the real deal,” Cam said.